„My therapist told me I should try out climbing and bouldering. Cuz apparently I like to hold on things I shouldn‘t“ – Read somewhere in a funny YouTube Short as I‘m scrolling to find cat videos
Summer 2024 was kind of a rollercoaster ride. I stumbled upon bouldering while picking up the pieces of my broken heart, trying really hard to sit with loneliness, getting involved in all kinds of situationships, which clearly did not help with my mental health. It started as an experiment. I wanted to try new things, pick up new hobbies, and make new friends. I’ve always found it scary to step out of my comfort zone, but the alternative would have been staying forever in a bubble where I no longer felt happy. And to be fair, self-love isn’t self-indulgence; it’s not always about doing comfortable things. Rather, it’s about convincing yourself to do things you know will take you one step closer to becoming who you want to be.
Okay, enough pep-talk psychology already!!
I was dragged to a bouldering hall by one of my dates. Before I even knew it, I found myself enjoying bouldering so much more than I could have imagined. I ended up checking out most of the halls in Munich—without him. Instead, I managed to drag my best friend, who had never climbed before, to join me. There were as many productive sessions as there were frustrating ones. There were solo (and sometimes lonely) sessions where I just really, really needed to go somewhere—to escape the four walls and stop ruminating. There were sessions where I joined groups of bouldering enthusiasts, and we shared so much laughter that I managed to push my limits just a little bit further.
Unlike swimming, where most of my motivation and progress are built on wholesome childhood memories, bouldering came with a tough learning curve. But slowly, beyond the two days of sore arm muscles, bouldering has helped me gain new perspectives on life—and love.
The honey moon phase doesn‘t last long ….
I still remember how thrilling those first few sessions were. Maybe because I’d never considered myself athletic—it had been ages since I’d genuinely completed a workout. When I found myself conquering routes of Level 1 and 2, and even a few easy 3-er, I was ecstatic. It was the perfect sporty date with someone I genuinely liked and cared about, doing something exciting we both enjoyed. I’ll admit, I loved that kind of attention and impression I could get, as a complete newbie. Don’t we all get a little addicted to these refreshing new experiences at the start of every interpersonal relationship? We find something we enjoy, struggle a bit with challenging tasks, but the dopamine rush from each small victory keeps drawing us back. If only this phase could last forever, right?
The meetups at the bouldering halls gradually lost their sparkle. It became harder to convince him to spend time with me outside his place—deep down, he didn’t crave these shared experiences as much as I did. By the fourth or fifth time, frustration began creeping in. I wasn’t progressing to Level 3 and 4. The mental load from university and work made it harder to focus. The pressure to excel, to improve, and to always perform at my best seemed to work against me.
The practice of falling
The beauty of growth lies in the art of showing up consistently. Doing it for yourself. Doing it just for the sake of it. For the sore muscles and lessons learned after each session, whether from self-learning or valuable tips from your comrades. At my peak of frustration, sadness, and doubts about my ability, I decided to have solo sessions. Just trying out. Just experimenting, like I told myself early on. Just to make sure I gave it my all—and if it turned out not to be for me, I could quit happily, earning the right to say “Well, I tried!”. I soon realized my biggest problem was the fear of falling and potential injury. This fear made me hesitate to climb higher. I held back from trying bold movements and different hip, foot, and hand positions.
I learned how to fall correctly to avoid injuries. It took about 5-6 YouTube videos and a whole solo session to finally feel comfortable falling with the right techniques. I learned to treat each session as a “mission”—a main quest and (if I had enough strength and fun) a few side quests. It was lonely back then, but in solitude, I found complete quietness. I laughed at myself (joyfully, not critically!) when I slipped and fell. I patted myself (secretly) on the shoulder when I conquered a “nasty” route.
You can’t avoid failure altogether. You never can. But when you choose to actively confront it, with eagerness to learn and willingness to see it as a valuable opportunity, so many doors open up.
The trust issue – Letting go of what‘s not working and stand back up
When I began to feel less like a failure, I finally trusted myself to join one of the bouldering meetups every Thursday and Sunday. They are amazing people, pulling off Level 5-6 like daily practice, yet still cheering me up and encouraging me when I fail a 4-er route. It’s so strange that I feel comfortable around them and dare to try routes I would never dare tackle alone. At some point, when a group member says “You gotta have trust in your legs and just reach out for the next block!”—literally 1.5 m away and a few of us failed—I jokingly say “Ouch, truth be told while bouldering: seems like we all have serious trust issues then.” Ahahahaha… Hahaha… Haha… Ha… H… (You’ll laugh 3s ago if you are Asian)
The pep talk rings true. When you train your muscles, hone your positioning skills, and practice effective gripping techniques, sometimes you reach—or even jump—onto the next block without being 100% certain it will work. It’s faith in yourself, that feeling of “This is the sweet spot of balance!” or “My left leg will hold up long enough for me to reach the other side” that helps you take the leap. Well, recognizing this is one thing; achieving it is another. I still have a long journey of practicing ahead. But with the help of these lovely communities, I don’t feel alone. I’m inspired by watching them climb and asking for advice. Among them, I sometimes let my stand-up comedian personality shine. I share techniques I learned (from Youtube, duh) and learn from their techniques. I’m happy being not good (yet) at bouldering and have earned myself the role of “the scout”—looking for routes that are challenging but achievable, making us feel accomplished after completing them. Not too easy to feel amateur-ish, not too difficult to risk slipping or falling midway.
You have the choice, choose wisely and better be among those who‘re giving back the positive energy
I’ve never been a sporty person and wouldn’t describe myself as one. Initially, I tried sports as a way to escape my problems. In the beginning, it was impossible to boulder without thinking of—and missing—someone I deeply cared for, with whom I shared few fond memories. But to my surprise, it has become a sport I genuinely enjoy, whether alone or with communities and friends. I’ve made something meaningful for myself out of this experience. I’m grateful I didn’t give up. Of course, knowing when to let go of a challenging route (usually after the fourth attempt and a couple of unexpected slips) is important too. I’m happy about all the fascinating perspectives I’ve gained along the way (and thankful for no broken bones!). I really miss the bouldering sessions now. Being budget-conscious about the €18 entry fee and dealing with master’s thesis stress have kept me away from the bouldering halls lately. But this isn’t goodbye—I’ll update you soon on what new life lessons this fascinating sport teaches me in the next chapter!
With much love, from Munich
Bảo Bối 🎀