As the leaves change and fall, and stellar outdoor climbing conditions arrive with the lowering temps, there is also a hint of competition season in the air at ASCEND gyms. The Fall 2024 Bouldering League have wrapped up with their finals, and teasers for the Steel Town Throw Down at ASCEND South Side on December 7, 2024 keep popping up in email and on Instagram. There is even a Competition Training Camp you can take to get ready for it.
Will you be competing this year?
I often steer clear of climbing competitions. As an introvert, I’m somewhat overwhelmed by the sheer number of other people. The anxiety that the time limit and standing in line to try problems produces is also something I haven’t learned to love. I participated in a few small competitions back in the 90s, and did okay, but I eventually decided they weren’t for me. I began setting for them instead. Setting for a competition is a whole other blog post.
As I have aged as a climber and member of the ASCEND gyms, I’ve always felt a little lonely in my age-range— I’m 50, y’all— and unable to keep up with the younger crowd. I have wondered for years why there isn’t a Masters category, to which the response has kindly been, “Oh Jen, you aren’t that old!”
But to tell the truth, when I do compete, I don’t always like seeing where I land in the line up with all the youngsters. It’s an ego thing. I want to be stronger and better at climbing than a competition reveals to me. This has always been true, even when I was a younger and more limber climber myself.
However, last year I stuffed a sock in all of my old, tired excuses and competed. I’d noticed that there had been an uptick of older climbers showing up at the gym over the past couple of years, so I wasn’t the only one with gray hair anymore. And the management at ASCEND finally declared there would be an acknowledgement of Masters level climbers, even if there wasn’t an official category (which I’d still like to argue plead for). So, since they were willing to at least acknowledge us old fogies, why not? I intended to climb with Brian, my geriatric partner, which meant, we’d arrive together, but we wouldn’t necessarily climb together. He’s much stronger than me. Turned out, he was sick the day of, so I went by myself. All alone. I was so nervous. I almost didn’t go.
Arriving alone and finding a place for my stuff was definitely the most nerve-wracking part of the experience. Should’ve arrived a little earlier. But by the time the climbing commenced, and I got a couple of juggy warm ups under my belt, I began to notice the positive energy in the place. Everyone was buzzing with it, and it was contagious, maybe the result of being submerged in the hovering cloud of chalk. While I climbed alone, there were still plenty of people I knew, once I spotted them through the haze. I’d stop and chat, process how climbing was going, and also get some suggestions for good climbs to try (namely, problems that climbed easier than their given point value).
I enjoyed being on my own. It gave me a chance to walk around, watch what people were doing, and really assess whether each climb was something I wanted to attempt. I didn’t feel rushed, and the longer I had to observe, the better I understood the movement of each boulder even before I tried them.
Last year for the first time, the set up for the competition was different, and for the first hour or two, there were no point values on any of the climbs. This went along with the advent of the bouldering leagues, where the climbs set for the leagues aren’t given a rating until after they were done climbing them. As a league climber, you’d know that the lower-numbered climbs were easier than the higher-numbered climbs, though these were not point values.
I haven’t participated in the bouldering leagues yet, but I climbed with a few leaguers at ASCEND South Side a couple of weeks ago, and it was fun to try unrated boulders. It forces you out of the rut of limiting yourself to climbing problems that might seem outside of your perceived ability just because of the grade— if you have that problem. It helps you to be a little more adventurous in what you will try.
Ultimately, this ended up being a good practice for the competition. Last year at the comp, once the point values were revealed, there was still time to fill in any holes in my top five climbs. Your success at a comp comes down to, how well do you know yourself? What are you good at? What kinds of climbs fit your style? As well as how well you know the typical style of setting at the gym and what the holds are like. I played it safe— as a 50-year-old climber, first and foremost, I knew that I didn’t want to injure myself— and flashed all but one of my top five problems, which, in a comp, is ideal if you’re not trying to win the thing. The less tries, the higher the point value, the less tired you get on a boulder. I did better than I thought I would and made the podium for the intermediate women’s category and won some shwag, which was unexpected. Yay me!
The most fun of all, though, was watching the finals in the evening. I love watching finals, seeing what the advanced climbers can do, even after they already climbed in the main competition and are somewhat tired. Watching finals is where the rest of us can relax and enjoy the event, satisfied with the tiredness in our muscles and bones, and maybe just a little thankful we don’t climb hard enough to be alone in the spotlight.
The psyche lives on past the actual event too. During the week after the comp last year, I went back and looked around at the problems I didn’t do, and found one or two that, had I done them the day of, would have shifted me into the advanced category. Close to the bottom of that category, of course, but who doesn’t like being bumped up? I guess I had played it too careful, or not been observant enough. So I told myself, “Next year, I’ll do better.”
Next year!? I must’ve caught the competition bug.
Ah, but alas, this year’s Steel Town Throw Down swiftly approaches, and I’m still in recovery-mode from breaking my ankle in February. I’ve been bouldering a bit here and there, but enough to compete? Won’t I risk getting hurt again? Won’t I be disappointed when I don’t do as well as last year? If I know myself at all, I'll get caught up in the buzz and push myself— that is what I think is fun— I’ll take it all a little too seriously.
Perhaps the question I need to ask myself is, could I just go and climb some problems and have a little bit of fun? Competitions really are for everyone at any level of climbing. They aren’t only for the strongest, most practiced climbers. Would it be worse to always wonder?
I read somewhere recently that you can’t define a thing as play— aren’t these competitions just a serious form of play?— unless something is being risked. So do I risk it?
What would you do?
Photos taken by Tara Bennett from the 2023 Steel Town Throw Down.
