Early on in my quest to outclimb the dudes, I sat at the base of the bouldering wall, grumbling about my husband’s long arms, when one of those female climbers leaned over and whispered the prediction that kept me coming back for weeks and months afterwards: “You’re going to have to work harder, but you’re going to be a better climber. ” I held her words inside me like a prophecy, willing myself to live up to them when I wanted to quit: Work harder. Be better. Ultimately it came true.
So instead of throwing up my hands and sitting in the loft to read (which was tempting, trust me), I threw myself into rock climbing with the singular goal of outclimbing my husband.