We Are What We Climb
Charles got into climbing later in life. The first time he tied in, he was in his mid-60s. He was a towering chap, well-built and strong as an ox. His hands had tough skin, and his fingers were stiff from a lifetime of use.
I was fortunate to work with Charles early in my coaching years. Charles was eager to improve his climbing technique. I had a reputation for being a movement expert, and as the only local climbing coach, I got the job.
Charles, determined to improve, was frustrated by his lack of progress. He would climb slowly, like a sloth, deliberating every move for what seemed like an eternity. It was like his brain would freeze, unable to decide which foot or hand to move next.
In particular, Charles struggled to step across his body–an important skill for effective climbing. Aware of this problem, Charles wanted to learn, and it was my job to direct him towards success.
Charles tried hard on every climb, hoping to practice a delicate step-through. He would eventually give up, resorting to brute strength to pull between the holds, running his feet up the wall. Alas, the new technique seemed elusive.
It was when coaching Charles that I first noticed a problem.
None of my verbal instructions seemed to work.
And the more Charles thought about his next move, the more he became stuck.
Charles followed my instructions for an occasional move–something we both celebrated as a success. That said, the second I stopped directing, he resorted back to his old, ineffective technique.
We repeated this scenario for months, and although we had a wonderful time together, my attempt at improving his “climbing technique” was an apparent failure.
He finished each session smiling but clearly frustrated. He always took responsibility for his subpar performance and committed to trying harder next week.
As an inexperienced coach, I also assumed Charles had a problem. Perhaps he wasn’t cut out for this.
This thought left me feeling uneasy.
Unfortunately for Charles, this story doesn’t end with a miraculous transformation.
For me, though, this was a turning point in my coaching.
Our Brain Doesn’t Control Our Movement
I had to do better if I hoped to become an effective climbing coach.
I realized then that I needed a theory to support my coaching decisions. I started to wonder if there was a scientifically supported approach to teaching climbing technique.
I began studying the science of movement, a journey that took me down a deep rabbit hole. I read everything I could find on the subject. Exploring 100 years of motor control science, I slowly gained a macro perspective of the current ideas.
I began to make decisions based on science rather than my own experience and gained confidence in my coaching approach.
So why was my early approach with Charles ineffective?
I discovered that controlling and learning movement isn’t exclusively a cognitive, top-down process.
Our brain, though involved, doesn’t control our movement.
Instead, we learn to move by interacting with our environment. And much of our movement is controlled directly by information from our environment.
I know these are big statements—we’ll explore these ideas further in future parts of the series.
So back to Charles. We can assume that my verbal instructions required a cognitive pathway through Charles’ brain. Charles heard my instructions with his ears, processed their meaning with his brain, and then had the option to act. He should have heard the instructions and, somehow, translated them into movement.
Unfortunately, that didn’t happen.
On my learning journey, I discovered that some of the most supported modern theories in movement science state that we don’t need explicit verbal instructions to learn how to move or climb. In fact, verbal instructions are often counterproductive, distracting us from detecting valuable information from our environment that helps us control and learn movement.
We Learn To Climb, Just Like We Learn To Crawl
Baby Bella, driven by the desire to reach her mother and drink some milk, hopes to move from one side of her room to another. Without instruction, Bella begins to explore movement, searching for a successful solution that will allow her to get some milk.
At first, her attempts are ineffective, as she flails around, stuck in one place. Gradually, she discovers sensory feedback by pressing her limbs against the floor. Through trial and error, Bella develops coordinated skills that allow her to crawl across the floor.
What’s important here is the interaction between Bella and the floor. It’s the floor that teaches Bella how to crawl.
In the same respect, it’s the climb (not the coach) that teaches the climber how to climb.
We learn to climb by interacting with the climbing environment, and by adjusting the environment, we can significantly impact the skills we learn.
So, what would I do differently if I could go back in time and work with Charles again?
Well, first, I would be more thoughtful about his practice environment.
There’s often a problem with climbs set for beginners in the gym–they lack creativity, especially on steeper walls. To reduce the difficulty level, the setter usually splatters the wall with jugs, creating unlimited climbing options.
Too many options create chaos.
Charles saw too many options to move, yet none stood out enough to tempt him into trying a new movement skill.
How might we solve this problem?
One solution would be to set some boulders specifically for Charles.
With thoughtful route-setting, I could create climbs inviting Charles to explore the skill we hoped to improve. I might create a boulder problem that could only be solved with a step through.
Secondly, I would stop distracting him with my verbal instructions.
My verbal instructions were no match for the chaos of the beginner climbs. My suggestions always fell short because they were contrived. There were always numerous other solutions that didn’t require Charles to try something beyond his skill set.
Just like the floor invites Baby Bella to crawl, my set boulder problems would invite Charles to step across his body, and without verbal instructions, the exploration and learning would begin…
This perspective shift has huge implications for understanding how we learn to climb.
Climbing technique emerges from our interactions with our environment.
And here’s the most crucial point.
We climbers are in control of our environment—we get to choose what we climb on.
The Coach As A Practice Environment Designer
In recent years, I have seen my job as a coach somewhat differently. Instead of being an explicit instructor, I consider myself a practice environment designer.
Rather than telling a climber HOW to climb, I help them decide WHAT to climb.
By taking charge of the climbs we choose to climb on, we can influence how our body adapts.
We often see examples of this happening unintentionally.
Climbers who spend time climbing on granite have refined balance and effortless footwork on lower-angle terrain.
Climbers who learn to climb steep limestone have drop knee skills and can control their body position on overhanging walls.
Climbers who grow up in a competition-style climbing gym have dynamic skills that allow them to discover the perfect position on a complex dyno.
More than anything, we are built by the climbs we choose to climb.
As we progress through this series, I’ll share ideas to help you choose climbs wisely.
I’ll help you reframe your training and practice, allowing you to control how your body adapts.
To wrap things up, I’d love to hear from you!
How do you choose your next climb?
Thanks for reading!
- Simon
Some references from this post
Wagman, J.B. and Blau, J.J.C., 2023. Introduction to Ecological Psychology: A Lawful Approach to Perceiving, Acting, and Cognizing. 1st ed.
Gibson, J.J. (2014). The Ecological Approach to Visual Perception: Classic Edition (1st ed.). Psychology Press.
Davids, K., Araújo, D., Seifert, L., Orth, D. and Button, C., 2020. Dynamics of Skill Acquisition: An Ecological Dynamics Approach. 2nd ed. Champaign, IL: Human Kinetics.
Gray, R., 2021. How We Learn to Move: A Revolution in the Way We Coach & Practice Sports Skills. 1st edition.
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