Thoughts From An Injured Coach
Full rupture of left Pectoralis Major before surgery
Hindsight may not always be 20/20, but it's far more precise than gazing into the future. I certainly didn't expect to get injured, but looking back I can see some clear warning signs.
For much of the year, I struggled to get traction on goals. Spring left me humbled by a nemesis route at Lookout Point. Then, fires shut down access to projects while “real life” also began to require more of my time than expected. With limited time and few local options to direct effort towards, I started pouring focused effort into a link up project in the Bomb Shelter at Eagles Rest. As Summer’s heat subsided, I was pleased to be entering the “any go” zone. The stage was set. Then, a big fall on a cruxy deadpoint one move from the chains sent me into the massive tree that I was sure would never be an issue (had tested the fall more than once, because a fall here seemed probable). Raking my back across the trunk of a tree mid flight on a 30 footer certainly didn’t bolster mojo on future attempts….
Sometimes things just don’t click. And I was well aware that all signs pointed towards taking a step back. So when my wife and I set out on a short getaway to check out Mazama, WA, I had every intention of focusing on high quality moderates in a beautiful place. As we began exploring the area, things were going 100% according to plan. It was instantly clear that some good old fashioned vacation climbing was just what the doctor ordered. And then, as the sun began to set on our second day of the trip, I forgot the plan.
Arapalesian Dog just looked too good to pass up. My plan to “take it easy” floated away as I tied in with every intention of onsighting, even though I knew the attempt would require some mojo.
And wouldn’t you know, I didn’t onsight. Yet, I thoroughly enjoyed the moves on stone that literally looked (and felt!) like marble. So, I pulled the rope and gave it another burn as the plan continued to float into the distance…. I just HAD to tick this one.
The low crux felt easy and the tricky middle section went down with little issue. There was just one big move guarding easy ground to chains. I stepped up on a glassy smear and moved confidently to the small edge.
And then my foot slipped.
I tried to control the fall with my arms, in hopes of saving the redpoint, but had already created far too much momentum. My right hand was going the wrong way so I caught it hard with one arm and immediately felt a nauseating tear across the front of my shoulder.
Trip over.
We drove home the next day so I could see a specialist as soon as possible. It didn’t take long for him to diagnose the full rupture of my pectoralis major. Yes, I somehow ended up with the classic bench press injury while rock climbing. The surgeon had never seen anything like it. Even weeks later with plenty of hindsight accumulated, I have no idea how a climbing fall would generate forces in such a way to create this injury, but that’s not really the point at this juncture. What’s more important, is understanding how/why I was at greater risk for an injury at all.
Sure, sometimes injuries just happen. They are part of sport, especially when we enjoy exploring our edge. Yet, it’s crystal clear to me that this didn’t “just happen to me”. I certainly had a hand in things.
I was feeling “off” for a number of weeks. Likely a bit overtrained or under-inspired. Doesn’t really matter which. Something in me was asking for a step back to recalibrate.
I asked myself to put in a performance effort when I wasn’t mentally up to the task. I had already committed to taking it easy. It’s not too surprising that I had a mental lapse and slipped on that smear.
I tried to catch a wild fall instead of just letting it go. Ego grabbed the wheel and insisted that I would not fall, even though things were already completely off the rails. I’ve cultivated an intuition around when it’s best “to let go” and this was undeniably one of those moments.
Some will disagree with me on this point, but I do believe that most climbing injuries are avoidable. Very rarely, does the injury simply “happen to the climber.” The reality is that we, as climbers, make choices that get us injured. It’s important that we learn to take some responsibility for injuries. With accountability, we open up the possibility of growth, and hopefully avoid future accidents or injuries that can most definitely cost us more than one climbing season.
I made some bad choices and now I’m on the bench for about 6 months. So what have I learned?
Bad footwork is dangerous. This is not the first time I’ve had a significant injury because of a foot slip and I’ve heard countless injury stories that have “and then my foot slipped” as the punchline. Dave Macleod calls this issue out in 9 Out Of 10 Climbers Make The Same Mistakes and describes the issue at length. Simply put, bad footwork leads to unexpected falls that are far more likely to create shock loading of the arms/fingers or of course big impacts with the wall/ground below us. I’m no Johnny Dawes, but I certainly have above average footwork. The issue in my accident (and many others) was not skill, but awareness. I was not mentally ready to do the moves on this route. “Chain fever” on my redpoint attempt pulled awareness away from my left foot and it slipped.
Even the best plans can fail. In fact, when it comes to training and climbing at one’s limit, I’d argue that there’s a far better chance that plans WILL fail. There are far too many variables for us to control. Sure, smart athletes have a good sense of what training plans might produce, but it’s nearly impossible to predict exactly how work, family, weather, natural disasters, and large trees may play into things. You’ve got to have a light touch with the plan and be willing to adapt at any point. This is, of course, is tricky because it's also essential to see plans through to have any sort of success. Certainly, working with a coach or a good partner can be a huge asset. An objective third party is a critical tool in assessing when to stay the course and when to adapt. Finding the sweet spot is tricky and this leads me to the next lesson.
The best performers have incredible intuition. Training can, and should, often be very systematic. Safe and sustainable adaptation requires a thoughtful progression of intensity and volume. Yet, most of the greatest performers in the sport also have developed the ability to feel what is best from set to set, session to session, and season to season. Their climbing and performance is more like jazz than classical scales. Like good jazz musicians, these athletes have certainly dialed all the fundamentals and put them to work every session. But they’ve also figured out how to bend rules to suit their current experience. It may look/sound random to a spectator, but they are actually operating from a rich perspective that integrates rules/plans with feel/emotion. And it’s incredibly effective. In all training and coaching, I am always aiming towards this sweet spot and I encourage you to as well.
Success is dangerous. Leading up to the 2021 season, I enjoyed an incredible streak of success. It may have been the first time in my climbing career that goals began to go down relatively effortlessly. Don’t get me wrong, I’d been working hard, but the work was consistently leading to success and that success was creating a ton of confidence. Over time, success and confidence create an intoxicating cocktail of positive momentum. Of course, this momentum is what we are all seeking in our training and performance. It’s an incredible feeling! However, egos love sipping on this fine cocktail. I know mine certainly did! With the ego getting drunk and grabbing the wheel things can/will very quickly go off the rails. Certainly some of my challenges in 2021 have their source in my ego driving decisions and reactions and it hasn’t led to great things for me. Check yourself. Stay patient. Don’t get greedy.
Joy is the only performance metric that actually matters. Ask anyone who’s on the bench for an extended period of time what they miss most about climbing and I promise they won’t point to specific grades, goals, or training routines. They’ll most likely tell you how much they miss climbing at all. The greatest gift of injury is the firm reminder of what actually matters. Climbing is not a necessary activity. We do it because it brings us joy. Sure, we all find joy via different avenues or experiences related to climbing, but in the end, all of it leads back to joy. Joy in movement. Joy in challenge. Joy in community. The best climber at the crag is the one cultivating the most joy. Period.
I had surgery last week and am currently adjusting to life in a shoulder sling. Pectoralis Major ruptures take a long time to heal, but they often heal very well after surgical repair. I’m told that with patient rehab, I can expect full strength in about a year. Sitting here just one week into that process, I’m already looking forward (most of the time). There’s always something to work on and injuries often create one-of-a-kind opportunities for growth. This is certainly a challenging one, but with a bit of a squint I’m seeing a few exciting opportunities in the coming months.
More on that soon enough.