Sixty feet off the ground, my hands grip the rock tightly and my mind is laser focused on the next hold. My heart beats in my ears as I process the stress of being far outside my comfort zone. I want to fall — give in to my fear — but instead, I lower my center of gravity and exhale.
I tell myself, “Look for good footing. Breathe. Go.”
When I was climbing rocks, I felt alive.
On the wall, I faced my problems, pushed myself, failed countless times, and sometimes got to the top.
For almost a decade, climbing was everything to me. It allowed me to decompress from my hectic design job. It gave me much-needed positive social connections. I learned how to challenge myself with made-up rock puzzles and give everything to a piece of the earth that cared nothing about me or my progress.
I traveled from California to Utah, Wyoming, Colorado, Mexico, and Italy just to touch rocks.
Inspired by every adventure, I started drawing in my sketchbook — not pictures of landscapes or of climbers, but how it felt to climb. My simple brush and ink drawings captured the emotional highs and lows of climbing and all the beautiful relationships I made along the way.
Eventually, I started a business selling my art on t-shirts and stickers. I went to festivals for eight years and displayed my goods on borrowed folding tables and the scrappiest display setups I could find.
As my climbing art business grew, I noticed I had less and less time to climb.
No more 18-day road trips to Wyoming with my best friend. Gone were the days of impromptu group chats about cliffs in Mexico where ideas went from dreams to plans in just a few hours.
My messages are now peppered with unanswered texts from friends I haven't seen in a while: "Climb this Wednesday?"
Sometimes I would feel bad. Guilty, even.
Everyone was out there having fun and suffering without me. I felt a certain loyalty to my friends and to the rock, and by choosing my personal life over the adventure, I feared an inevitable identity shift from “climber” to “traitor”.
The thrill of making plans and being on the road that had so perfumed my life was gone. Not even a faint scent of it remained.
While everyone in my Instagram feed was climbing rocks in beautiful places, I sat alone in my cramped home office, staring at my computer screen.
Instead of reaching for climbing holds, I reached for knowledge about entrepreneurship and marketing. Instead of secure footholds, I created strategies I could reliably put my weight on. Instead of belay partners, I sought out peers I could collaborate with and learn from.
Even though scaling cliffs hundreds of feet tall is now a rarity if not a fading memory, I still face new challenges every day. There are times I want to cry. Shut it all down. Forget all of this stupid life I've chosen.
"It's too hard. I want to go back." The temptation to fall into my fear and let everything go is still there.
But thanks to what I learned out there, I know how to push through the fear. Breathe. Remember the goal. Don’t linger on the stressfulness of it or every way it could fail.
Go for it.
And if a strategy doesn't work, I’ll try it again. Adjust something. Make another attempt. Learn something new. Do it again. Day after day after day.
When I look down, I can see the mountain of progress under me.
I may have stopped climbing rocks, but it turns out I never stopped climbing.
Dear friends,
It’s been a few weeks since I’ve published an article.
For five weeks, I was a mentor for Write of Passage. Simultaneously, one of my design clients asked for maximum availability as it was their peak season. As it started to cool down, I traveled to Pittsburgh and gave my first lecture at a climbing gym conference. This past month has certainly been a wild ride!
I am incredibly grateful to Helen Jiang of
for encouraging me to continue writing despite the busy season. I am also grateful to Christin of , Ishan of , and for their feedback on the first draft of this article.See you all next week!
—Leslie
Leslie! It's been a while dude! How are you??
Loved this piece. Just wanted to point out this banger line - "I may have stopped climbing rocks, but it turns out I never stopped climbing."
It is so poetic and powerful :)
surrender is a big theme in my life as of late. I've embraced the value of resonance, and it seems so many things that once resonated no longer do. it's also given me the courage to walk away from that which only partly resonated. there is much sadness and fear, but with each new step away from all of those things, a new world is opening up. I hope I am able to embrace it. thanks for sharing your story, Leslie.