Aiming High: Climbing My First Tower

So many chances to die. Even at 10 feet, the possibility of death loomed ominously over me. Despite how much I wanted to, I just couldn’t give up. I needed to know if I was the kind of person that I thought I was.

The Non-Corporate Ladder

Alan paced back and forth, nervously murmuring to himself. “Palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy…vomit on sweater…mom’s spaghetti.”

“Not helping, man,” I said.

Alan’s fingers tapped rapidly on his right cheek. “This is so fucked. What are we thinking?! This is crazy!”

“Well, Alan—bet you regret not joining a normal company and climbing that corporate ladder instead huh?” I adjusted my binoculars and examined the tower.

Alan grabbed my shoulders, shaking me. “Why didn’t I take that cushy job back home?!”

“Because it would probably suck ass—doing something everyone else does. You wanna work in a boring ass cubicle or office somewhere for years and years? Retiring one day so you can finally do something different and exciting—only to realize that you’ll be too old and tired? We can do something exciting now.”

“Shit, Ace…”

“You know I’m right. We’re all here because we instinctively feel that way.” I scanned the tower once more. “Looks like they’re ready for the next climber.”

“Shit. I’m next right? Shit…shit…”

“Yeah. You should put on—”

“Ace, you’re next.” Robert, the instructor, appeared in the corner of my eye, waving his hand.

“Sheeeyut!” I threw the binoculars at Alan. “…Alright, then. Guess I’m gearing up.”

A Long Way Up

The objective was simple: climb a monopole—a cylindrical tower with tiny pegs for climbing.

I simply needed to perform a series of mini pull-ups and lunges all the way to the top—and not die. Seemed like a solid plan.

After securing my gear, I stood there for a moment, gathering my thoughts while trying to remain calm.

What the hell am I doing, I thought. This shit is going to kill me.

I stared at the top of the tower.

It’s just 70 feet. That’s it.

I grabbed a peg and thrust myself upwards.

As I pressed onward with a vice grip on every peg, a slow-burning tension ate its way through my chest, radiating outwards towards my arms and legs.

It was the most terrible case of butterflies I had ever felt—like a thousand butterflies were scrapping their legs against my insides. Somehow, it was even worse than the butterflies from skydiving or scuba diving.

Falling out of a plane? No problem. Just enjoy the view knowing that you have two parachutes. Gravity and equipment will do the work. You just have to pull the parachute and find a landing zone.

Scared of drowning or getting eaten during a scuba dive? No worries. The plentiful supply of oxygen can be monitored in real-time. The ocean and equipment will do the work. Besides, you just have to swim faster than the slowest diver to not be eaten.

When climbing, the anxiety remains the entire time, burning on the inside, radiating outwards, and persisting—physically and mentally.

During this climb, I was 100% responsible for everything. Unlike the other adrenaline-fueled activities’ equipment, climbing equipment did none of the work. It just might help if I fail. In fact, the climbing equipment weighed me down, making it harder to climb.

The tension was agonizing and enduring. My whole body trembled with every step.

As my palms were sweating profusely, I could feel the moist gloves slowly fusing into my hands. To make matters worse, the physical strain was intense.

My biceps and lateral muscles throbbed, and my legs started cramping. It was a full-body workout.

The tower swayed as a strong gust of wind rushed by.

I froze in place, glued to the tower, eyes closed shut.

Alan’s screams slowly came into focus as I held the pegs for dear life.

“Just keep climbing!” he yelled.

“Oh?! You sure?! Didn’t think of that!” I peered at the ground below. “I thought I could just FLAP MY FUCKING ARMS AND FLY UP THERE!”

“Bro! If you just keep hanging! Your arms will get tired and you’ll eat shit!”

“And you’ll eat shit if I shit myself on this damn tower!” I wrapped my arm around a peg. “It’s going everywhere, Alan! I had burritos for breakfast!”

I searched my thoughts. How the hell did I do crazy shit like this the first time.

I recalled my time working with radiation in the oilfield.

I’m supposed to be afraid, I thought. That’s the point. I Just need to be more brave than scared.

Next, I recalled my time working with explosives. It was a time when I mastered my favorite coping mechanism—cursing like hell and yelling to myself.

“Stupid!” I pulled myself towards the peg above while simultaneously pushing the opposite leg.

“Fucking!” I gripped the next peg above and pushed the opposite leg in unison.

“Tower!” I launched myself up once more.

“Damn!” Once more I pulled myself upwards.

“You!”

“Why!”

“Do!”

“You!”

“Have!”

“To!”

“Be!”

“So!”

“GOD!”

“DAMN!!”

“TALL!!!”

“THIS…”

“SHIT…”

“IS…”

“TRYING…”

“TO…”

“KILL…”

“…ME.”

“Okay…almost there!” I said, looking up. “Few more pegs.”

It was the most intense workout of my entire life. I never knew I could even perform such a feat. Death was certainly a great motivator.

In mere moments, my head was inches from the platform.

I grabbed the platform and push off with my triceps, propelling myself forward and rolling clumsily on the platform.

“YOU GOOD?!” Alan yelled.

Panting heavily, I could barely speak between breaths. “need…ose…weight.”

“WHAT?!” Alan replied.

“I SAID I NEED TO FUCKING LOSE WEIGHT!”

“OH! LOSE WEIGHT. YEAH OK. SOLID PLAN.”

The scenery was nice and peaceful—mostly desert and mountains for miles. I’ve never worked so hard for such a view.

The elation and pride overwhelmed me. I honestly almost shed a tear. Almost. I had never felt so alive in a long time.

Height of Excitement

“You should head back down now!” Alan yelled.

I looked down the tower, causing it to sway.

Fuuuuuck. I’m high.

I took a breath and lowered myself below the platform.

About 5 minutes later, I was back on the ground. The trip down was much easier. Adrenaline numbed the pain and gravity was on my side.

Alan walked over. “Soooo, Robert said we’ll continue this another day. We need to grab dinner.”

I started putting the equipment away. “You not going next?”

“Shit dude, I don’t know about this!” Alan said. “Maybe it’s not for me!”

“You haven’t even tried.”

“Sorry, Ace. I think I’m out, man. Don’t know what I was thinking!” Alan said. “You were cussin so much! Everyone was freaked, bro!”

“It’s just what I do. I curse like hell to summon courage and build confidence.”

“Yeah, well, I just can’t do that, man. I normally just cuss at people because they suck.” Alan stared at the tower. “Maybe some of us can only handle the office, bro. Anyway—how do you feel?”

“The best I’ve felt in a long time.”

Despite feeling a coward for most of my life, I had come a long way.

I felt at the top of my game—like someone capable of reaching great heights in life.

I rode that high for the rest of the day and had the best sleep in my life that night.

In retrospect, I am amazed that a 70-foot tower made me feel so incredible. That tower was one of the shortest I ever climbed—by far.

It turns out that the old adage is true: the first steps are the hardest.

But in the end, it really does come down to those simple first steps, because they are the ones that make all the difference.