Free Soloing and the Edge of Possibility
On long flights, I watch movies. I always say I'm going to read, then I see the movie screen and my book or Kindle goes into the seat pocket in front of me and I begin perusing the video catalog. I start with new releases. On my most recent United Airlines flight from Amsterdam to Houston, "Free Solo" leapt out at me. I'd wanted to see it on the big screen (It honestly would have been dizzying in IMax), but I happily settled for the tiny screen in the seat back. Before we even began taxiing, I'd hit play. It was an easy choice - I'm a fan of rockclimbing and, after seeing "Meru," I'm also a fan of Jimmy Chin's talents as a climber and documentary filmmaker. I expected soaring visuals and a physical and psychological study of the feat in question (a 'free solo' - no ropes, no belay, no net, no nothing - of El Capitan) as well as a portrait of the man - Alex Honnold - doing the climbing. I got all of that and more.
Alex Honnold and I have little in common. He's a genius and clearly not afraid of heights. I'm ok smart and I started bouldering to challenge my fear of heights. As an illustration: Alex climbed 3,000-plus feet without ropes or anything to catch his fall. I still haven't recovered from barndooring off a bouldering problem last October. I fell maybe eight feet. Onto a mat. In a gym. I wasn't injured. At all. So, please, as you continue reading, know that I am in no way equating myself to Alex Honnold. I will say that we are both goal directed. Again, let's qualify that. Alex is several standard deviations ahead of the curve while I'm merely sliding down it. He dreamed, set the goal, planned, studied, and achieved something that no one may ever replicate. Ever. I'm putting together plans to travel to Poland in the fall and I'd like to run a forty-seven minute 10k this summer. Obviously, I'm no Alex Honnold.
All that said, Alex and I do have something very important in common. And until I watched "Free Solo" and listened to Alex talk about himself and his psychology, I could never quite find the right words to describe that part of me. It's the free solo. We are both at our best when we are alone, in our own space, doing what we love to do, no ropes, no net, no one to catch us if we fall. Granted, Alex's free solo is a bit more dangerous than mine; I don't travel to places with "extremely high travel risk," like Yemen or Libya (Invariably, though, someone warns me about the dangers lurking in Scandinavia...). Still, when he talked about his comfort zone, the only thought in my head was "YES!!"
"My comfort zone is like a little bubble around me, and I've pushed it in different directions and make it bigger and bigger until these objectives that seemed totally crazy eventually fall within the realm of the possible."
Because that's truly where life begins. Right at the edge of your comfort zone. The key - the goal, really - is pushing that edge little by little until the zone expands and you find yourself doing something you never thought you would do. For Alex, it was climbing higher and higher. Free soloing was just a natural progression. For me, it began with a cross-state move and progressed to a solo trip to Europe. Alex didn't become a daring rockclimber overnight, just as I didn't become a daring solo world traveler in one trip.
It's process. All of it. Even Alex and El Cap. He didn't go out one day and scale it. He climbed it the traditional way over and over, tried out different routes, and perfected the "problems" (bouldering-speak for the series of moves a certain section of rock requires). Then he studied and studied until he had memorized every inch, every move, and every hold. With each practice, he expanded his comfort zone. Yes, the danger still existed. One slip, one missed foothold, one finger off the mark and he would plummet thousands of feet to certain death. But, he felt in control and confident. Each and every risk was a calculated one.
For me, solo travel is just part of the process. Every trip I take expands my comfort zone. I encounter new challenges (a late plane, a migraine on a train, confusing, discomfiting streets that look like alleyways) and find my way. Alone. Yes, my goal is to travel the world solo to more and more challenging places (not more and more dangerous places....just so you know), but I have grander goals that that. Or maybe it's grander challenges. One lurks on the horizon. Next month, after nearly a decade, I will move away from Austin.
I remember how hard it was and how much I struggled nine years ago when I left Texarkana. It was a huge adjustment. I went from a large number of friends and a massive support network to next-to-nothing. When I arrived in Austin, I knew two people. That's it. Gradually, I met people and made friends, but before that happened my introversion was stretched to its limits. I was used to "safe people" and suddenly I had none. I struggled, nearly broke, and begged to go home. I ended up seeking counseling and learned a lot about myself, about managing my introversion. Slowly over the years, I expanded my comfort zone and, while having a safe person is still the ideal, it's no longer necessary. My hope is that my solo travel - my love of the free solo - will make this next move, and every subsequent move, easier.
It all remains to be seen but, like Alex Honnold, I feel like I'm at my best when free soloing, out there on my own, fighting the fight, pushing my limits without anything or anyone to catch me. It's been a long road; none of this happened overnight. Challenge and practice, challenge and practice. Finally, though, I've come to a beautiful place. I love what I bring. I love my strength, my hope, my determination, my fearlessness. There is truly no one in the world I'd rather step out into the unknown with than me.
Yeah, I may blow chunks and end up in the fetal position. Like I always say, it's a possibility. I think, though, that I'm decreasing the probability of it. I'm sure I'll continue to respect that part of myself. I've learned to take nothing in this life for granted. Not my strength and certainly not my fearlessness. Chunks can blow when you least expect them.................but regardless I have to take the risks, push the limits, and keep on fighting. Otherwise, what's the point? Life begins on the edge of possibility. The probability of success or failure notwithstanding.
~
Ok, ok.... Las Vegas isn't exactly a free solo. I have people. My niece has assured me of this fact. Twice. I'm sure she will again. And maybe even again. So while I'll be on my own, I've got a support network in place, if I end up needing it. Truly, though, I see this move (and probably the next), as practice, an expansion of my comfort zone. One day the move won't be a nineteen hour road trip to a new home. It'll be a nineteen hour plane journey to a new country, a new language, a new almost everything. And I'll have no one there to peel me out of the fetal position. That'll be the free solo, the moment when I stand at the edge of possibility and know that everything - absolutely everything - I need lies within.
Alex Honnold and I have little in common. He's a genius and clearly not afraid of heights. I'm ok smart and I started bouldering to challenge my fear of heights. As an illustration: Alex climbed 3,000-plus feet without ropes or anything to catch his fall. I still haven't recovered from barndooring off a bouldering problem last October. I fell maybe eight feet. Onto a mat. In a gym. I wasn't injured. At all. So, please, as you continue reading, know that I am in no way equating myself to Alex Honnold. I will say that we are both goal directed. Again, let's qualify that. Alex is several standard deviations ahead of the curve while I'm merely sliding down it. He dreamed, set the goal, planned, studied, and achieved something that no one may ever replicate. Ever. I'm putting together plans to travel to Poland in the fall and I'd like to run a forty-seven minute 10k this summer. Obviously, I'm no Alex Honnold.
All that said, Alex and I do have something very important in common. And until I watched "Free Solo" and listened to Alex talk about himself and his psychology, I could never quite find the right words to describe that part of me. It's the free solo. We are both at our best when we are alone, in our own space, doing what we love to do, no ropes, no net, no one to catch us if we fall. Granted, Alex's free solo is a bit more dangerous than mine; I don't travel to places with "extremely high travel risk," like Yemen or Libya (Invariably, though, someone warns me about the dangers lurking in Scandinavia...). Still, when he talked about his comfort zone, the only thought in my head was "YES!!"
"My comfort zone is like a little bubble around me, and I've pushed it in different directions and make it bigger and bigger until these objectives that seemed totally crazy eventually fall within the realm of the possible."
Because that's truly where life begins. Right at the edge of your comfort zone. The key - the goal, really - is pushing that edge little by little until the zone expands and you find yourself doing something you never thought you would do. For Alex, it was climbing higher and higher. Free soloing was just a natural progression. For me, it began with a cross-state move and progressed to a solo trip to Europe. Alex didn't become a daring rockclimber overnight, just as I didn't become a daring solo world traveler in one trip.
It's process. All of it. Even Alex and El Cap. He didn't go out one day and scale it. He climbed it the traditional way over and over, tried out different routes, and perfected the "problems" (bouldering-speak for the series of moves a certain section of rock requires). Then he studied and studied until he had memorized every inch, every move, and every hold. With each practice, he expanded his comfort zone. Yes, the danger still existed. One slip, one missed foothold, one finger off the mark and he would plummet thousands of feet to certain death. But, he felt in control and confident. Each and every risk was a calculated one.
For me, solo travel is just part of the process. Every trip I take expands my comfort zone. I encounter new challenges (a late plane, a migraine on a train, confusing, discomfiting streets that look like alleyways) and find my way. Alone. Yes, my goal is to travel the world solo to more and more challenging places (not more and more dangerous places....just so you know), but I have grander goals that that. Or maybe it's grander challenges. One lurks on the horizon. Next month, after nearly a decade, I will move away from Austin.
I remember how hard it was and how much I struggled nine years ago when I left Texarkana. It was a huge adjustment. I went from a large number of friends and a massive support network to next-to-nothing. When I arrived in Austin, I knew two people. That's it. Gradually, I met people and made friends, but before that happened my introversion was stretched to its limits. I was used to "safe people" and suddenly I had none. I struggled, nearly broke, and begged to go home. I ended up seeking counseling and learned a lot about myself, about managing my introversion. Slowly over the years, I expanded my comfort zone and, while having a safe person is still the ideal, it's no longer necessary. My hope is that my solo travel - my love of the free solo - will make this next move, and every subsequent move, easier.
It all remains to be seen but, like Alex Honnold, I feel like I'm at my best when free soloing, out there on my own, fighting the fight, pushing my limits without anything or anyone to catch me. It's been a long road; none of this happened overnight. Challenge and practice, challenge and practice. Finally, though, I've come to a beautiful place. I love what I bring. I love my strength, my hope, my determination, my fearlessness. There is truly no one in the world I'd rather step out into the unknown with than me.
Yeah, I may blow chunks and end up in the fetal position. Like I always say, it's a possibility. I think, though, that I'm decreasing the probability of it. I'm sure I'll continue to respect that part of myself. I've learned to take nothing in this life for granted. Not my strength and certainly not my fearlessness. Chunks can blow when you least expect them.................but regardless I have to take the risks, push the limits, and keep on fighting. Otherwise, what's the point? Life begins on the edge of possibility. The probability of success or failure notwithstanding.
~
Ok, ok.... Las Vegas isn't exactly a free solo. I have people. My niece has assured me of this fact. Twice. I'm sure she will again. And maybe even again. So while I'll be on my own, I've got a support network in place, if I end up needing it. Truly, though, I see this move (and probably the next), as practice, an expansion of my comfort zone. One day the move won't be a nineteen hour road trip to a new home. It'll be a nineteen hour plane journey to a new country, a new language, a new almost everything. And I'll have no one there to peel me out of the fetal position. That'll be the free solo, the moment when I stand at the edge of possibility and know that everything - absolutely everything - I need lies within.
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