Almost ten years ago, my dad started taking my 6-year-old sister and me to a tiny, hole-in-the-wall climbing gym called ClimbTime Indy. Once a week, we would pile in the car and make the 20-minute trek for a few hours in the gym. Because I was still a tiny little four-year-old with chubby cheeks and a nonexistent attention span, there was very little actual climbing going on for the first few years. Instead, I bonded with the employees and other regulars and wasted my energy running around between my "friends". Pretty soon, we were introduced to "Team Indy Flash", which was coached by an old friend of my father´s. The coach, Johnny, convinced my dad to let us join the team, in which we would attend practices 3 times a week.
After about 2 years on Team Indy Flash, a new gym opened up in the area. Almost ten times as large, and probably twice as tall- this gym towered over our previous location. Sadly, we said goodbye to our team and joined Hoosier Heights. We met new climbers, new coaches, and were forced to learn to climb completely new walls. On our new team, we were better introduced to the idea of competitive climbing. We would travel to other gyms in the area and compete against over kids our age.
The competitions took us all over the Midwest, introduced us to people that my family still consider close friends, and taught my sister and me how to deal with success and failure. My first few years of competing, I usually placed somewhere on the podium for local and regional competitions, but everything was different on the National level. Not only was the plane ride to across the country disorienting and the elevation change nauseating, but the entire situation was nerve-racking.
My first time in Colorado for nationals, my entire family came to watch my sister and I climb. I got 40th.. out of 42 in my category, and my sister didn't do much better My next 3 nationals were very similar, with the exception of my sisters improvement. I was too focused on the competitive side of it- which is almost the exact opposite of what the climbing experience actually is. But at the time, competitions were the only way to define my personal climbing ability. I didn't know how else to prove myself a true climber.
For several years, every bouldering National Championships was in Colorado and every sport climbing nationals was in Georgia. My fourth time competing in Atlanta and my seventh time at any nationals, something had changed. I was genuinely excited for the chance to climb that day. My nerves had been pushed to the very back of my mind. I was excited to get to climb in the tallest gym in the country, with routes set by the best setters. Maybe I had soaked up too much hot Atlanta sun, but I was siked and ready to climb.
I placed 15th in Qualifications and moved on to Semi-Finals. Unfortunately, I couldn't squeeze my way into Finals, but 15th was enough for me. It was an entirely new experience and the ability to enjoy myself during the stressful week had made the ¨vacation¨ a lot more relaxing.
Despite the importance of the community within climbing, I never truly fell in love with the sport until I could focus on my personal journey as a climber.
