class, sass, and a little smart-ass

At Nationals last year, I already knew that it would be the last time I coached for the Multnomah Athletic Club since I had already taken a coaching and setting position at Elevation. I got COVID at the event and ended up stuck in my hotel room for the last couple days of the competition. I cried a lot because I missed out on coaching and cheering on some of the MAC climbers, and I was especially sad about it because I wanted every moment that I could still be coaching them. Instead, I was stuck in a hotel room with a massive sinus headache, a fever, aches, chills, a sore throat, a cough, wheezing breaths… the whole thing.

Moving into my position at Elevation, my bosses and coworkers had briefed me on the history of the youth team, the baggage of that heading into the next season, and the decided changes from one season to the next. It was all weird and sensitive–and kind of dramatic–information, but I was on board. I was so psyched to be joining a relatively new climbing community with the chance to learn from everyone and to bring my experience to the growing youth team. More specifically, I was really psyched on the chance to build the team and was hoping to take on the head coach role soon.

It felt like a dream to have the chance to build the team. After a handful of years as an assistant coach between the Circuit and the Multnomah Athletic Club and after earning a Master’s in Sport and Performance Psychology, I felt ready to take on more and to put more of myself into a program. In the SPP program, I did a concentration in Positive Coaching, which required me to put together my coaching philosophy, to make explicit my theory and approach to coaching. It was so empowering! I could articulate my core values and how they fit into my coaching practice, and it made me so badly want to put together something that, at its core, encapsulated who I am. So, it felt like a dream to have the chance to build Elevation’s team.

As I said, I had been briefed on the history of the team that I was stepping into and the baggage going into the next season. My understanding came to be that the previous head coach had been asked to step down due to, in short, issues with boundaries. It was clearly problematic, and there was obvious tension between some of the managers and this previous head coach. I guess, at the time, I didn’t think that it would be much of an issue for my job. I was ready to work with a totally different team of coaches and was pretty sure I’d do a good job. I thought of myself as adaptable enough, diplomatic enough, and generally likable enough to work through whatever came my way.

The first few months of the season were confusing, and we all rolled with the punches as best we could. Part of the baggage from the previous season led to divisions among the team–between kids who’d been on the team for a while and kids who were new to team, between kids who prioritized competitions and those who didn’t even know climbing competitions were a thing, and even between coaches who had different perspectives on all of the changes and stuff.

Looking back, I was just trying so hard to make everybody happy–which is almost never effective. In this case, it was ineffective both for running the team well and for maintaining my own sanity.

We started the season with 48 kids. At the end of the fall term, the gym let go of the previous head coach altogether, and several kids left the team because it didn’t suit their goals or their idea of what team should be. Speaking less descriptively and more speculatively (and from my own emotion), I think that most of those who left at the end of the term just believed that team wasn’t good enough for them, and I think that the previous head coach’s pretty public-facing opinion on the changes to team strongly influenced that belief.

The winter term got a bit dramatic right off the bat. We had prepared for Bouldering Regionals and heard that the previous head coach (now let go) was planning to be at the event as well. So, one of our coaches reached out to her to determine what her intentions were for attending. Would she be spectating? Coaching? In isolation? If coaching, who? Some of the kids who left team were competing, and we (coaches still on the team) were all of the understanding that it would be alright if she coached the kids who were no longer on team and inappropriate if she coached kids who were still on Elevation’s team. Boundaries.

I’m not totally sure how the conversation went. I think I did see the text message exchange, but I don’t remember enough details. Long story short, she ended up not going to Regionals.

Divisionals, though, was the next month…

It soon became obvious to us at Elevation that some of our kids were still training with her outside of practice. Some of them even told us at practice that they trained at the gym across the street with her for five or so hours the day before, and it was obvious that they were tired and disengaged from our practice activities. (Again on a less descriptive note, I even heard kids talking shit to each other about our workouts not being hard enough or good enough or whatever, still right in front of me).

Divisionals came. The previous head coach went. It was weird. It was actually very unenjoyable and frustrating for me. I usually like to stay in isolation to warm kids up, but it made more sense for my coworker to do that this time. So, I went out onto the floor with our first climber. The coach on the floor usually debriefs with their climbers after their climb times, and I was ready for it! I mean, it’s my job. It’s the job I’d been chasing. 

I didn’t get to debrief with either of my climbers though. Once they each exited the climbing area, the previous head coach was right there to do my job for me. For like, ten minutes. Again, right in front of my face. Boundaries...

That was the frustrating part. I mean, I could’ve given my kids my two cents after that. But did they really need more debriefing? And did they need more input that could be confusing or conflicting or overwhelming? Would it have been helpful? I don’t know. It could’ve been. I guess I didn’t want to step on anybody’s toes (by doing my own job...) or create confusion or conflict. 

When we returned from Divisionals, we (another coach, myself, and a couple of managers) had started drafting a statement to the team families about the gym and the team’s experiences with the previous head coach with a proposed decision for them to make about training with her or training as a part of Elevation’s team, exclusively. My part in the statement was to describe how we structure the training in order to dispel the beliefs that team did not care about competition or about supporting our climbers who wanted to compete. 

So, we sent out this message and this ultimatum. Be on the team, or don’t be on the team. After that, another several kids left team. Their last practice just happened to be the day before my birthday. I cried. I went home. I celebrated turning 27 alone. I cried some more.

The next few weeks were the last before the end of the winter term, before spring break. It was the start of the Lead/TR season which just involved three qualifying events in the Portland area. I coached at two of these events–at which, of course, the kids who had just left the team were there competing, with their new old coach. Nothing happened; it just felt uncomfortable for me. Uncomfortable in the same way that it was uncomfortable for those same kids kept coming in to do their climbing drills and workouts from their new old coach at the same time we ran our team practices. Talk about awkward. Boundaries...

Through those several first months of the season, I not only was confused because I was trying to please everybody; I was looking at the roughly 20% of kids who had left team (by my interpretation, because of the previous head coach’s influence) and thinking that kids don’t leave a team that has an adequate leader. So, by my interpretation, I wasn’t an adequate leader. I wasn’t cut out for the role that I had pursued, had asked for, and had been given.

I started feeling really bad about myself. Like, really bad. I felt like shit. I felt like I shouldn’t be coaching anymore. It sucked. I had always felt like I was good at coaching, and I was suddenly questioning all of it. Why didn’t the kids like me? Why didn’t they trust me? What was I doing wrong? Why wasn’t I good enough?

In six months, I had gone from feeling ready to build a team to believing I shouldn’t even be coaching anymore. 

And what a waste of thousands of dollars and 15 months of studying for this Master’s to make me a better coach.

And what a waste of my career choice.

I thought I’d made this devastating mistake by pursuing the head coach position. Or I thought that I’d made this devastating mistake by leaving Portland to be with this team that didn’t seem to want me or appreciate me. Parents and kids at the Multnomah Athletic Club were asking for me to come back. Coaches from the MAC and even another couple of teams in the Region–and setters from those gyms–joked (or half joked, or didn’t even joke) about me coaching and setting for them. Somebody said that I could be the head coach at their gym, and somebody else said that I could be the head routesetter at their gym.

Why didn’t the Elevation kids and parents want me?? 

The spring term of the team season came and went in a breeze. Lead/TR Regionals. Lead/TR Divisionals. Outdoor bouldering in Bend with the team. Well, it came and went in a breeze partially because part of me was checked-out, over it, and burnt out. Part of me didn’t want to deal anymore. Part of me just didn’t care.

The part of me that always cares, though, kept me going. It (with the relentless insecurity of people not liking me and fear of being replaced) kept me going the whole year. For better or for worse.

Most of the season, I was injured or insecurely recovering from injury. In October, something happened with my wrist, and I stopped climbing outside of setting for a while. Even during setting, I was climbing 50-70% of what I normally would due to the pain and all. I was trying to keep training without making it worse–hangboarding, weighted pull ups, even campusing didn’t really hurt most of the time. I just really struggled to climb for myself and to enjoy climbing. It felt just like work–because I could really only climb during work.

The year would have been different if I wasn’t injured, but I don’t know if it would have mattered. I’m not really in the business of dealing with counterfactuals. I can say, though, that simultaneously feeling like shit as a coach and feeling like shit as a climber for months and months really fucking sucks when coaching and climbing are your favorite things. 

I took a couple of vacations throughout the season–Bishop in December, and Red Rocks in March. I wanted to enjoy climbing for myself again. I didn’t in Bishop. I sort of did in Red Rocks. I think part of both trips was that I just felt so terrible about myself that I couldn’t appreciate what I could or did climb. Looking back, I wish I was proud at the time of what I did climb. In Bishop, I day-flashed Solarium (the send of which had eluded me for a long time until the previous year) and flashed a v5 (Perfectly Chicken)--which I hadn’t done before and hadn’t thought was possible for me in Bishop, where I’d always had so much trouble climbing in general. In Red Rocks, I did my second v7 (the Dirty Rail) in just two sessions. I was very interested in the Dirty Rail, and when a friend said to me, “You could do the Dirty Rail in one session,” my immediate reaction was mostly disbelief (and a little bit of the thought that if that was the case, then the Dirty Rail is just soft).

Anyway, all that to say the coaching season kind of sucked, and I don’t think that it sucking actually had much to do with anything within my control or had much to do with me at all. I don’t think that it was about me, which is both comforting and frustrating.

The kids who stayed on team seemed to have a blast, and we started building a cool little community. A lot of kids achieved their goals, surprised themselves with their growth throughout the season, or otherwise just made some new best friends. The parts of team that were affected primarily by what was within my control actually went pretty well.

The parts of team that were strongly affected by things outside of my control… I don’t want to hold onto those as negative feedback about my performance (or about myself). But I do. Even being able to be a bit less attached to that perspective as time passes, I think the season was a bit traumatizing. 

The next season’s approaching, and I’ll officially be the head coach–pay raise, title, and all. It’s cool. I got what I asked for. I just don’t know if, having had the shitty experience of this season, I’m actually excited about it anymore. The whiny baby girl in me feels like I worked really hard through somewhat miserable conditions to earn what I wanted and like what I wanted wasn’t worth it. 

Like I said earlier, I feel like life is just soooo unfair. And that’s just how it goes sometimes, right? It still sucks. 

I would have liked to go to Nationals, and some of the kids who quit team to train with the previous head coach qualified for Nationals. While I still don’t deal in counterfactuals a mere few paragraphs later, part of me is here thinking that I would have been coaching at Nationals if the kids hadn’t left team, if the previous head coach hadn’t influenced them in such a way–if this, that, and the other thing.

Nationals is awesome. I love coaching at competitions, and Nationals is a pretty special one. Coaching isn’t about me or about what I get to go to, but getting to go to cool events is a rad perk of it. I think, right now, I wish that life was fair because I like to think that my hard work through somewhat miserable conditions would have earned me the reward of coaching at one of the coolest events of the season.

My current perspective and mood about it are shortsighted. I know it. I won’t feel this way forever, but I do feel it now. I’m not usually one to make decisions based on emotions or emotional perspectives that don’t align with reality, but I do feel it now. And I feel it very intensely, very deeply. Frustration, disappointment, loss.

When I interviewed to work at the Circuit Bouldering Gym, I made clear my desire to be a routesetter at some point, and there was one female setter, Tonya, among about ten setters. I didn’t think about it at the time because the only thing that mattered was that I set at all--not whom I set with.

Soon after Tonya left the Circuit a few months later, Danielle started setting; so there was a woman setting again. Maybe six months later, Danielle left as she completed her master’s program and went home to Missouri, and another couple of months passed before the Circuit made me a setter.

Part of the appeal, to the Circuit, of hiring me as a setter was that I am small and a woman. That just means that I have a degree of uniqueness in how I climb and in my climbing experience compared to the nine other routesetters who are all male.

It’s important to note that a person’s setting style doesn’t necessarily reflect that person’s climbing style. For example, Max is really strong on compression on slopers and enjoys competition-style boulders, but he doesn’t just set that style; he has set a number of great static crimp lines. In my opinion, a good routesetter is skilled in setting many various styles of climbs (this is something to which I aspire and actively work on).

It’s also important to note that not all of the  setters at the Circuit have developed that skill--or have even tried to. That being said, hiring a setter whose climbing strengths include something different from the other setters is generally a plus; in my case, it turned out that I am better at setting in my style (primarily because I am very familiar with the movement and difficulty) which is generally reliably conducive to widely varying climbs on a given day.

Aside from how the sets would turn out in terms of diverse climbs, a number of customers expressed desire to climb boulder problems set by a woman. I’m not sure that a woman has some intrinsic value that a man doesn’t have and that gives certain value to a climb she sets, but I imagine people could feel more attached to a climb if they know certain things about the person who set the climb.

Regardless, customers wanted a female setter, and that helped my case too. It turned out, sort of as expected, that women tend to enjoy my climbs because, as aforementioned, it turned out that I am better at setting in my climbing style--a style which resonates with a lot of other female climbers (and children, actually).

So, the major advantages, in theory, of hiring me as a setter happened to, in actuality, be advantages for the diversity of climbs and for female climbers.

Soon after I started setting regularly, one of my coworkers and I chatted about women in setting, and she said that setting interests her--but it’s intimidating. 

It is a lot of work. Between all of the logistics around putting up a climb (not even logistics about putting up a climb)--moving ladders, setting up barriers, putting out holds--there’s a lot of work. The walking up and down ladders and climbing / editing the routes are another story, but then add in fixing spinners--and there are more expectations and more responsibility than one might expect.

However, I’m not sure if she meant all of the work is intimidating or if being one of very few (or none other) women is intimidating. If it’s the latter, I understand to a certain extent. I remember moving to London and experiencing something like immediate community with other Americans as opposed to people of other nations. There’s something comforting about seeing people like you in a new place or new environment, and there’s something unnerving about being around people who come from very different places (physical and social) than you.

On the other hand, the fact that setting (at the Circuit, but also in general) is statistically and historically male-dominated hasn’t bothered me. It certainly didn’t deter from my desire to set; if anything, it presented itself as more reason for me to set.

A major part of the reason it never bothered me is that I really, really wanted to set and didn’t care about who else sets. I was determined to become a setter, and whether or not other people like me also did it never mattered to me. I once told my friend that I get what I want--but I didn’t mean it in a spoiled or arrogant way. I just meant that if I really wanted something, I would put in the work required to get it regardless of barriers.

Another part is that I have the type of personality that enjoys and finds meaning in being the only [x] in a group. For some things (like pursuing setting), succeeding as the only woman is my way of showing others that society can’t stop me from doing what I want to do, that sexism or biases can’t hold me back--nor can it hold other people back. To a certain extent, the pursuit of proving that I could become a setter overcame any nerves around being the only woman setter in my workplace.

So, what has it been like since I started setting? What has my experience been as the only woman setter among ten setters?

My fellow setters have never treated me differently in the workplace because I am a woman. Most of the differences simply boil down to differences in climbing ability (reach, height, pulling strength, climbing style). I am one of the weakest setters and definitely the smallest one, and those aspects affect me more on the setting team than being a woman does.

Even at that, it’s not like my size or strength always affect me negatively. Usually, they do because it means I can pull less or reach less than the male setters. But there have been times when being small meant that I could fit more comfortably into a “box” or space of bodily positioning on the wall. Another advantage of my size is that my fingers can hold onto disquietingly small holds.

Anyway, my general experience with the other setters has been quite positive. Most of the setters, most of the time, are really helpful and encouraging with feedback as well. David, in particular, has been a great mentor in my learning process in setting; if something doesn’t go well, he helps me understand why something didn’t work the way I wanted it to and helps me see ways to avoid or work with similar situations. 

The primary negative of being the only woman on the setting team is that my specifically-female bodily functions disturb my setting and climbing. Cramps, for example, cause major interference with my climbing and my focus. Need I get into more detail?

What I’ve also felt is that customers’ eyes are on my sets. Some customers have talked to me about how much they enjoy or struggle on my climbs because the climbs suit them or not. Such customers will often mention something like, “Your setting is different from the guys’! The box is smaller, more female-friendly.” One time, a male customer told me that it was refreshing to see his wife cruise some climbs which challenged him more.

Aside from customers’ comments, I also feel that customers--male especially--watch me on a set day. That feeling may be based on real occurrences, or it could be all in my head. My thoughts are that it’s hard not to notice one small girl doing this hard work with five dudes.

I’m not sure what, if anything, these customers think when they see that, but that feeling makes me pretty insecure and self-conscious. What if they think I don’t belong? What if they’re impressed? Is there a certain image or reputation I should keep up?

Like I said, that feeling might not even be based on reality; people might not really be watching me as the only woman on the setting team. But that’s beside the point. The point is that I am aware of my being the only woman on the setting team and, further, that that awareness affects how I feel about being the only woman there.

Like pursuing setting, not letting it get to me (not giving a shit, caring more about the activity itself as opposed to who else is there) is a solution to that negative feeling. Isn’t it easier said than done, though? I suppose it may be something to work on, something that I’ll come to terms with in time.

Today, we set two long roofs and a short, mildly overhanging wall--all of which are sections of the gym that I despise setting.

The long roofs are hard to set in because it’s terrain that I do not climb frequently and that I do not enjoy climbing. It’s not that I find cave climbing overwhelmingly difficult. Sure, it is not my style. However, I still climb within one grade of my redpoint. Climbing in a cave is just exhausting; I move too slowly to have a long-lasting session in a long roof.

While I enjoy climbing on the short wall, setting on that wall presents further challenge in considering moves that can be skipped by going straight to the top of the wall--straight to the lip. Because the wall is, at its high point, just about eight feet high, a relatively tall climber need only be a foot off of the ground in order to make the move with the right holds from which to generate. Breaking beta is one thing (by which I’m usually not upset), but skipping moves really take away from a climb. As a setter, I have to keep that in mind and should generally avoid setting a skippable climb.

Regardless of the sections, I still set seven boulder problems today: three between the two caves and four on the short wall. In the caves, I set a v2, a v3, and a v4, and on the short wall, a v0, a v1, a v4, and a v5. 

The v4 in the cave took the longest to climb and edit because it was a funky problem. My idea was that a climber would do about half of the climb feet-first with toe hooks, heel hooks, and toe-ins, and that’s something with which I hadn’t previously experimented which means setting it isn’t a skill that I’ve developed. While I’ve set some types of movement (traversing, shoulder-y sequences, compression) and honed those skills, feet-first movement is not among those types. So, it took some toying-around on the climb to make it work.

Interestingly, Royce (head routesetter) and I were fiddling with it for a while and had to take a break and move on to another climb. But later, Sean climbed it a certain way that Royce and I hadn’t tried--and it suddenly went! It was suddenly doable within the grade. 

Even more interestingly, Sean said it was a fun climb. I didn’t think that it was a boring climb, but I got to the point, in setting and editing it, at which the only way I was evaluating the climb was by how many edits it took; I wasn’t evaluating the climb on how well it moved anymore. While it’s still not something I want to climb (as I don’t frequent the roof), it really isn’t a boring climb; it’s quite appealing, even.

All of my other climbs were okay. All of them took some edits, but no one was as difficult as that v4. Some were fun climbs to me, but no one stood out. I’m sure people will enjoy the climbs, and that’s fine.

A few days ago, David (assistant head routesetter) and I were chatting about setting, and he told me that I should try to set a route by first choosing holds that I really like and by second choosing a grade that I like to set. He reminded me of that at the start of the day as well.

It was quite a challenge to accompish that today because I looked at the hold selection, thought about the sections being set, and had trouble determining if any holds I liked that were out could go at the grades I like to set in the given sections.

My favorite grades to set are v1, v2, and v7. For whatever reason, setting v3-v6 is fairly difficult for me (an interesting relation is that those are the same grades for which we setters get the most complaints--about the routes being too hard, too reachy, or something). But I do not think I have the skill to set a v7 in a roof, and the short wall only gets set up to v6. So, that left v1 or v2, but those grades, in a roof, can usually only be on jugs of sorts. On the short wall, any interesting holds usually make for straight-forward movement in order to ease physical intensity. For example, slopers can be put on a v2, but they might be hard for a v2 climber to hold onto; so, the movement and pulling has to be on the easier side.

David’s challenge would be good for me though. I would be really excited to set a climb of a grade that I like and on holds that I like. I can imagine that I would walk away from the set day feeling good about that climb at the least, and that’s an encouraging feeling. 

David checked in at the end of the day, and when I told him how I found it difficult with the hold selection and sections’ terrain, he said that I can try again next week--or every week. He said, “It would be good if you walk away from each set feeling stoked about at least one climb you set,” and I think that’s true.

However, that only happens about half of the time for me, and it usually depends on the holds available that day and on the terrain of the walls that we are setting that day. If there are a bunch of thin but comfortable crimps and if we’re setting mild overhang, then I am likely to set a decent v7. But if there are a ton of old, big holds and if we’re setting a steep wall, then I’m doomed.

The other half of the time, I walk away, pretty apathetic about how I performed as a setter. It’s not that those are exactly bad days; they’re just not good days. I want good days.

Today was a “just not bad” day. I still have much to learn.

Tonde Katiyo has talked about setting climbs with emotion in mind. The easiest example is frustration; it’s common to get frustrated with a route for a number of reasons: you’ve done all the moves but can’t link it up, you’ve done all moves except the crux, you progressed yesterday but took a step back today... But David said something to the effect of, “I don’t know what a joyful climb would look like,” and it got me thinking about what emotions, other than frustration, do climbers feel while on a climb or while projecting.

So I went to social media. I asked the questions, “What do you feel while on a climb?” and “What emotions have you felt while working a climb?” to my followers on Instagram, and there were several answers: anxious, self-conscious, clunky, underwhelmed, fearful, relieved, excited, content.

I thought about different feelings I’ve had while climbing or working on something (particularly failing on something), and the list is even longer: frustrated, fearful, disappointed, obsessed, addicted, determined, playful, surprised, carefree, stupid, clever, alone, proud, insecure, unattached, thoughtless...

I’m not sure what it is about the climbs that have made me feel any one of those things. Some of it has to do with why I’m climbing the route, I suppose--like if I am warming up or projecting or training endurance or working on climbing open-handed... On a warm-up climb, I’m likely to think about things other than the climb itself, and so I feel detached from the climbing and still in my head. But while projecting, all of my thoughts outside of the climb in front of me--or even a single move--disappear; I am attentive to the climb and to how the climb makes me feel. 

So I suppose that the feelings involved with projecting (or climbing hard at all) that I want to focus on, and my goal was to focus on an emotion, determine what about a climb makes somebody feel that way, and think about how I could set that. But as I go through it more, I’m not sure I’ll land on some specific setting process...

Let’s take the “easiest” example: frustration.

What do I do when frustrated in climbing? I roll my eyes. Walk away. Groan and complain (probably call the climb--or myself--stupid; something is stupid for sure). Definitely don’t smile--I probably flaunt my resting bitch face. Wrestle my shoes off of my feet and then toss them to the ground.

What has frustrated me about these climbs? A single move I can’t do, or can only do in isolation. Inability to link the climb from start to finish. Not seeing what sequence I need to perform. Reversing progress, forgetting beta. Sometimes, the style of the climb or a certain, forced move--not being fun or comfortable movement. If I think a climb is misgraded. For the most part for me, it may boil down to not being able to do something that I think I should be able to do.

How do I set that emotion in a climb? 

I could set a climb with really reasonable moves and one incredibly hard move. The downsides are that, usually, I prefer to set a climb that is sustained in difficulty and that that’s just kind of a dick move. If the only point is to frustrate a climber, then I could certainly set a climb composed of ten v4 moves and one v7 move--and call it v6. That just seems stupid to me. A v4 or a v5 climber would get on it, climb the ten v4 moves, not be able to do the one v7 move, and think they’re climbing a v6--but they’re not. What they are climbing is a v4; the climb “altogether” is a v6.

I could set a climb that requires power endurance--set 20 moves of v5, and call it a v6. A v5 boulderer has the strength to do every move on it, but do they have the endurance to send the climb? That wouldn’t be so bad, I suppose.

But I want more than the difficulty of individual moves taken together. I want the movement itself to provoke frustration. Is there a way for the way in which I move my body to frustrate me?

I get frustrated on climbs that have what I think are dumb moves--either because they’re awkward or they’re jumpy or something. And suppose that I cannot avoid the climb (because if I could avoid the climb, I would. I would just not do whatever dumb climb there is). In a commercial gym or outdoors, I can pick and choose the climbs that I want to do. But if I were to compete in an onsight competition, I would have to give my best effort on each climb--there’s no avoiding the dumb climbs, the dynos, whatever.

But that’s also subjective. What movement I find dumb is specific to my style, but somebody else (indeed, many people) may love run and jumps, straight up dynos, double-clutch moves, etc.

That could be how this mission to figure out how, generally, to set for an emotion ends up--subjective, varying from situation to situation. I imagine that any one climb could make different climbers feel different things. Maybe I need to just begin with setting to evoke any emotion rather than a specific one.

Royce, David, Jim, Max, and I were scheduled to set two overhung sections yesterday, and I was nervous about setting steep terrain because I’ve historically struggled with imagination and coming up with interesting climbs on overhang. Lack of inspiration ended up not being a problem; rather, it was the selection of holds which I felt limited my climbs.

I set a v1, v3, v4, v5, and v6. The v1 was supposed to be a 0, the 3 a 2, the 4 a 3, the 5 a 5, and the 6 a 7. So, I still need to improve setting within the grade. Luckily, they took relatively few edits. The v1 needed to top out further to the right to avoid walking into a beam, and both the v3 and v4 needed different holds for topping out as the initial ones were too sharp and uncomfortable. (That was the setting skill takeaway of the day.) The v5 only needed one more hold for topping out, and the v6 required one different foothold and two handholds to be switched.

The v3 and v6 had fun moves to come around a corner, making the beginning sequences fun, and the latter halves of those two climbs were alright. I was worried while initially setting the v5 because I decided to use slopers and force a tense lie-back before a deadpoint--so, not my style. That one requiring the fewest edits was pleasantly surprising!

The v4... There were only so many pink holds available, and I couldn’t make in-cut edges fit into v4 difficulty on steep terrain. The same was an issue for the v3 and the v6. I only had edges to finish the v3 (initially set as a 2), and they were too finger-y to make v2. Then, the v6 was supposed to be a v7, but the holds were too good. They were practically finger-buckets, and I had even turned them to complete side-pulls. It’s alright; that one was fun anyway.

Overall, it was a good set. Max and David each set a compression climb (v5 and v3, respectively), Jim and I set a few climbs requiring core tension, Jim and Max set a few mid-grade climbs with big moves, and between several v4′s, v5′s, and v6′s, we had mid-grade climbs varying in style--kind of something for everybody. Most of the mid-grade climbs did feel stiff, but it’s overhang; things are bound to feel more difficult because of the core effort required.

As for forerunning, Max, David, and I really had to work for our money. Royce and Jim each climbed a few things, but we were down to three forerunners during the “hard” climbs (v7-v10; hard is relative). Max and I only climb up to v7 and some v8 on our respective styles; so, David was the only one to climb the v10. Max and Royce pulled off the first few moves in the v8, I worked out the middle section, and David finished it. David was the only one to climb the v7 because my skin was screwed and Max couldn’t help on that style.

While trying the moves on the v8, I consciously forced myself to get up, try again, and try hard. We had to make the moves work, and David was occupied with his v10 (reasonably so; in the meantime, he trusted our judgment with regards to editing the v8). We had to make the moves work.

I changed my mindset since being paid to set and forerun. While volunteering, I could stop climbing whenever because it wasn’t required of me--it wasn’t my job. I climbed a lot in quantity and climbed hard, but I never felt like it was my responsibility to work it out. But yesterday, it was my responsibility, at least partially, to climb outside my usual grade, give feedback, make edits. I had to make moves on a v8. It was weird.

My body feels it too. By the evening, my glutes and shoulders were already sore. And one day later, my back, shoulders, glutes, and inner-thighs are under stress (good stress, gaining-muscle stress). Max and David both said it’ll take some getting used to; between going up and down a latter for a couple hours and then climbing at my limit for another couple hours, I’ll figure out how to move efficiently, save skin, and save energy.

When I got into bed last night, I thought about setting because I’m still earnestly so excited about it. I’ve worked towards it for a year (today!), I made it a goal for 2018, and I’ve accomplished it. Further, it seems like I’m learning and improving quickly! And understandably, as the one female on a team of eleven setters, I thought about the significance (or for me, lack thereof) of female routesetters.

I googled “female routesetters” to see what others say about it. The general consensus is that it’s a male-dominated field and that it’s hard (or at least intimidating) for women to get into it. I don’t agree with the latter, and I take a purely statistical view of the former.

“Male-dominated” just tells me that there are more males in x than there are females; it’s not a good or bad thing, just a numbers thing. In certain conversations, some people make it sound like a bad thing. But male-dominance in routesetting makes sense if you take a historical perspective: more women started climbing later than men. That’s not to say there were only men to start; I’m sure there have always been women in climbing. But climbing as an accessible and welcoming hobby to women didn’t happen until what seems like the last few decades. As such, climbing (pun intended) up the ladder in the industry has also been historically male first (chronologically). I anticipate that it’s only a matter of time before the ratio of men to women in setting is ~1:1.

Regarding male-dominance being intimidating or making it harder for women to get into setting, I have never felt that way. For one, I’m stubborn and determined; I want what I want, and I will hardcore pursue it until I get it unless it’s really something I shouldn’t have or do. When I first saw setters in a gym, I immediately knew that they’re the coolest people in the gym and that I had to become one. The thought of routesetters being mostly male didn’t pass through my head at the time, and even when it did eventually, I thought, “Well, anything they can do, I can do.” I often pursue something just to prove a point.

That being said, I can understand how it may intimidate a female. Guys can be annoying; guys who climb can be really annoying--and towards women especially. But if you truly prioritize your desire to set, then you won’t let men, social status, stigma, or whatever get in the way. There are misogynists out there (and in the climbing community), but there are enough people with good intentions to recognize somebody with the right potential and attitude towards climbing and setting.

I refuse to be any group’s token woman (or token woman of color). So it sort of bums me out that some people are excited about just having a female setter to have a female setter. Climb my climbs! Like them or dislike them for what they are, not for the fact that a woman set them. And if you’re excited about me setting, then I pray to God that it’s because you care about my happiness and desires being satisfied and not because I’m one female setter among ten men setters.

While working with David (”assistant head setter” I think) on Tuesday, I asked him if I could set on Thursday since it would be the first Thursday, since summer started, that I would be available due to a changed work schedule. He said yes! By the end of his shift (9pm), he was giving me advice on beginning to set: don’t make holds uncomfortable for the wrist, set simple problems to get the basics down, etc. It was great.

On Thursday, I showed up at 8:15am to get in the most setting. Jim saw me as I was walking in and asked, “What’re you doing here?” I responded that I was there to set because David said I could, and Jim said that he was glad to see me there. He asked Max to get me set up with a problem to work on, and Max pointed me towards the slab (sidenote: slab is fantastic) to set a vB and then a more interesting climb.

Setting the skeleton for the vB took what felt like very little time, and I finished the second climb, a supposed v3, by 9am. During forerunning, the vB required another hold, two other edits, and a few more footholds, and the v3 turned into a v2 with three edits. On the unedited “v3″, David said, “That’s quite a nice climb,” which made my whole day.

Then, I started putting up a climb on an overhung section--and I found that really challenging in terms of coming up with ideas and flow. There was a point at which I took down most of the climb (when it was almost finished) and tried again. I wasn’t happy with that set, but it turned out fine with three edits later on.

Lastly, I set a v3 on the vertical section. I saw four worm-like holds (pinches) and knew what kind of route I would set. I put them up in a flash, added three footholds, and it was done. v3.

At the end of the day, Jim, David, and Max gave me very constructive feedback.

Jim was surprised to find out that I wasn’t getting paid yesterday, that I was still volunteering. He said, “After today, you should get paid if you do this again,” and told me that he let Danny, the General Manager of the gym, know that he (Jim), Max, and a couple of other setters had a recent conversation in which they talked about the advantages of having me set more.

David asked how I felt about the day and how I thought it went, and I expressed that I was pleasantly surprised with how many problems I put up and with how smoothly editing them went. We talked about how I got at least one route up on each section (slab, vertical, and overhang) and how setting on overhang was challenging for me, but he seemed, overall, pleased with how easily it all happened. David also likes setting simple climbs, and mine were simple and straightforward.

Max talked with me about small but noticeable differences between climbing vB and climbing v0 (in the gym) because of how my slab vB went. He said that my climbs were simple which meant they were simple to edit, and I agreed and said that my goal, at least in beginning to set, is to not be the person whose climbs take half an hour to edit--which he agreed is a good goal for where I’m at. He said that, while starting out, it’s good to make climbs more or less difficult by hold type, lock-off requirements, and terrain as opposed to complex problems that require specific beta and provoke much thought.

It was a good day. Setting and forerunning ended around 3:30, at which point I was already really spent, and I had a shift from 5pm-11:30pm; so I was at the gym for over 15 hours, had a lot of caffeine, and was exhausted by the end.

Regarding my future in setting at the Circuit, I am still nervous about the idea of getting paid to set, but I am really excited about the potential. If my performance yesterday indicates what kind of talent I have for setting, then I think I’ll do well, improve in time, and eventually set more complex, beta-intensive problems.

From what Micah, David, Max, and Jim have told me, I think Royce (the head setter) and management are the most hesitant about me setting. I get it. I have relatively very little experience in climbing (less than a year and a half of gym climbing, extensive climbing at only two gyms, and just a handful of experiences in outdoor bouldering), and experience is usually a great indicator of understanding climbing movement.

I improved in climbing at kind of an alarming rate, too. In one year, I went from struggling on v2′s to consistently climbing v6′s, sending a handful of v7′s, and progressing on v8′s. That’s not bad; it’s just uncommon. If anything, maybe it’s a good indicator of my potential for setting: I can be very determined and can be a really fast learner when I want to be.