Here’s a story about Younger Me.

Back then, and sometimes even today, part of me wanted to be really good at something, or at least better than my enemies.

A good climbing partner will outlast romantic relationships, know how your poop smells and in general see you at your most scared and insecure moments.

My dad has been visiting me this month and we’ve been climbing together a lot. Back when I was 10 he taught me to tie a figure eight knot and how to be scared to death belaying, and he’s still teaching me today.

Today is a practical message.  It’s for dealing with a moment when you thought you would die. A reminder to do instead of stay cool.

I’ve been hanging out with climbers since I was a little kid. What I’m about to say is born from my silent observations as a shy 12-year-old, to deep conversations murmured over campfires in the wilderness, to the stories my students share with me weekly.

There is no optimum state on my horizon, nor am I there now, nor do I plan on figuring out what it is.

I don’t believe in optimization.

So many people want my secrets for a better head.

What’s the fastest way to get better as a climber? Is it developing strength? It is refining your technique? Is it getting a really hot boyfriend?

Climbers like to think of themselves as functional people.