No fear

Yesterday was my 34^th birthday, yay! Careening wilding towards middle age (when does middle age start anyway?) and I am officially (after a debate with the man about when a decade becomes early/mid/late) now in my mid-thirties.

I don’t like pondering on my age, so I simply don’t do it. It’s not something I can change, and yes we would all love to be 21 again (although I was actually quite depressed at 21 having still not learnt to be happy in my own skin, so I’ll take 25), but why be down about leaving behind wrinkle free skin, a level of personal freedom that you just can't appreciate and being able to seriously wear a crop top in public, when there is so much more to look forward to in old age? Having perfect teeth (false of course) and not needing to worry about fillings, being able to get away with huge social faux pas without a murmur of complaint from anyone else and spending the day watching telly and grumbling about the new presenter on Countdown, entirely guilt-free.

So anyway, I hadn’t expected much from my birthday. There comes a point when you just have to accept that your birthday isn’t as big a deal as it was when you were five. You can’t expect the same number of presents or a huge birthday party and chores still need to be done. And you don’t go to bed plump from birthday cake, or with a smile on your face knowing that kids will be talking about your party at school all week and you don't get to wear a pound shop plastic princess crown for the day, because birthday’s as an adult are no different from any other day. But the man outdid himself this year, and organised a morning of rock climbing for the two of us at Reading Climbing Centre.

I’m not great with heights. In fact I have rather a long list of fears. Heights (although technically not heights, just falling from a height), flying (although technically not flying, just being in a plane when it plummets to the ground) etc… all the usual phobias many of us are plagued with.  But the man knew that I really wanted to give rock climbing a try. Not because I thought I would particularly enjoy it, or be good at it, but because I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it, despite being shit scared.

So when we arrived at the rock climbing centre, we were given harnesses and these weird shoes to put on and shown into a huge hangar full of climbing walls up to the ceiling and very serious looking people of all ages, all looking incredibly blasé about the fact they were hanging on a wall 40ft from the ground. There were a few bouldering walls (lower walls for climbing with no harness - “no way am I going on that with no harness!” was my instant response) and a large number of 40ft walls. We were immediately led to a small (!) 20ft wall to practice on. I was first up. There was a point half way through when I suddenly realised that I was actually wearing a harness and climbing up a wall, and not sitting at home watching The Fabulous Baker Brothers as I had been telling myself (my new happy place - food + posh totty = food pornography for women), and I panicked slightly. But I ignored that and got on with the job in hand. The feeling of relief when I quickly got to the top washed over me and I sat back in my harness and abseiled to the ground, grinning like a crazy person. Having proved we could do it, we were then told we would be climbing the big walls and I honestly thought the instructor was joking. And you want me to go right to the top? Er, no you’ll never get me up there!

But a strange thing happens when you are climbing and you think you won’t make it. There’s a kind of distance warp, where you’re so focussed on what you’re doing that you kind of forget where you are and how high up you are. You just climb, one foot at a time, one hand at a time. And suddenly, all muscles screaming for mercy, you reach that final hold and realise you made it to the top. And that’s when you can look down and see for yourself just how far you’ve come.  

Wearing a harness, I climbed 4 different 40ft walls, and I even managed to get myself to the top of one of those bouldering walls, without a harness. But I'm so glad I did. The feeling of pride and excitement that I had actually done something I thought I wouldn’t be able to do far outweighed the discomfort of being terrified or the embarrassment at having my arse stared at by complete strangers for a whole 60 minutes.

We can’t choose whether or not we’re scared.  But we can make a conscious choice about whether or not to continue in the face of that fear or allow it to stop us in our tracks. There’s no point in fighting fear, because frankly it’s not going to go away when you are 40ft up from the ground dangling from a rope, but you can go on despite being scared. One foot at a time, one hand at a time.

Thanks to Reading Climbing Centre for a great lesson, and thanks to the man for taking me. xxx