Hyperventilation and Limitations of Fear

Hyperventilation and Limitations of Fear

            Throughout our lives we are presented with choice points when we have to choose to act or do nothing; last night I was confronted with a personal challenge I was not sure I could overcome.

Rock Climbing is a sport that was introduced to me a few years ago. We climbed at a local gym for about six months consistently (3-5 times per week).  Life events stopped my climbing, and consequently his for about two years. Two years ago we began to climb again. We built a wall in my backyard to climb. Soon opportunities with other friends arose and I took advantage.

The people I was fortunate enough to go with were better skilled and more experienced so they would lead the routes. When sport climbing bolts are already drilled into the rock and have a hanger on the end that a climber has to clip a quick draw (two carabineers attached with a “dog bone”) to. This means the climber has to climb above the rope; setting them up for some scary falls.

Climbing outside is much more difficult than a gym or wall you could build in your backyard. The rock is smoother; the holds for your hands and feet are smaller; and the options available sometimes confuse newer climbers like me. These factors coupled with my intense acrophobia influenced my decision to continue to let others lead, even when my confidence in my own abilities had strengthened.

Fear is a fundamental impediment to the progress of any individual’s life. For me heights are the only thing I have encountered that numbs my senses, immobilizes my body, and disorients my cognitive faculties. However, when I choose to do something I try to become as good as I possibly can. Circumstances with work and a fractured foot resulted in an opportunity for me to start leading climbs.

Awareness of what my fear can do to me caused me to choose routes which were much easier. The first few I led I was able to breathe through the fear and complete the climbs. These 5.7’s and 5.8’s were easily done because they were not vertical and the direction of the holds caused me to stare directly at the wall in front of me. Last night this all changed.

The climb I chose was a 5.9 named choir boy. It starts with an early boulder-move crux where you have to pump over a roof. The crux (hardest part of the route) seemed very difficult to send until I found the juggy holds to help me up; foot placement was the key to making the move, the hands just kept me attached to the wall. Once you are above the roof the holds become less juggy and you have to lean into the slab and traverse to the right. Great placements for your feet are everywhere so this part was a breeze.

This line shared the first three bolts with another line that continued right, where it exposes the climber to the distance between them and the ground. Choir boy went vertical at the third bolt and this is where I started to fall apart. My breath steadily quickened and became shorter. An intense fatigue began to creep into my muscles. The final bolt was drilled into a slab that was completely flat. Instantly I knew the holds had to be located on the side of this square-ish slab of rock. This is when I lost all control.

I started to hyperventilate. My vision narrowed to a tunnel focused on the rock I had my right hand on. Yellow enveloped my line of sight and I immediately was disoriented. Fear gripped me more strongly than I have felt in the last twenty years. A memory appeared in mind’s eye- I was a little boy standing on the edge of a cliff in southern Utah with my family, tears rolling down my cheeks as they tried to get me to move forward; that was first time I experienced my acrophobia.

This memory did not last long. My eyes caught sight of the ground, intensifying the effects of my thoughts. The world spun around my head in circles until I was too confused, too scared to move. I tried so hard to regain my composure with breathing techniques I have learned from yoga and other sports; nothing could quell the tempest in my mind. My friend on belay yelled incoherent words of encouragement from the ground. As they reached my ears the syllables fell silent.  A thought repeated over and over in my mind, “I can’t. I can’t. I just can’t.”

Somehow in my delirium I climbed down to the bolt below. It was here, as I was about to give up, an epiphany struck my mind with such a phenomenal force I was dumbfounded. “You just climbed. You can do this. Fear is the only thing stopping you.” The limitations of my fear slowly dissipated around me as I regained my vision and my breathing started to slow down. I sighed deeply and wiped away the tears. In front of me was a new wall. The hand holds and feet holds that would move me up the wall to the chains suddenly were apparent.

Fear, a simple thought of “I can’t” is what stopped me and almost caused me to quit. When I reached the top and touched the chains I was ecstatic and immediately overwhelmed by a sense of extraordinary joy. Endorphins, dopamine, and adrenaline surged through my entire body like I have never felt before. It was so intense I felt like screaming, laughing, and crying all at the same time. This is why I climb. This is why I live.