In my previous trip reports, many climbers, most of whom I will never meet, have been so supportive in their comments and some have mentioned the term "lifer." All of you, whether you've been climbing for 3 years or 30 years have impressed me by how your commitment to climbing has enriched your life and become a part of your reason for being. It made me think these past couple of months...once the honeymoon phase of starting something new passes, will I commit?

As always, the answer came in reflecting upon climbing experiences this past month.

First and foremost, you have to understand, when it comes to hobbies and interests- it's like I've got ADHD mixed with multiple personalities. I've been known to do a tango class, rock climb, swim, golf, do a meditation class, take a language class and ski all in one week (with a full time career). The good news is, I fit the cliche of the lifetime learner whose always up for any challenge, the bad part is, I fit the cliche of a lifetime learner whose always up for any challenge.

The first climbing commitment test came during a climbing trip to Big Chief near Truckee, California. As someone who got a divorce two years ago and shares half custody of two amazing kids (yes I'm biased), I have come to have a double life: one is the life of late night dancing and selfish hobbies, while the other half is cooking dinner and bedtime stories. But when my 5 year old daughter and I got the chance to have a girls weekend, and we chose to spend it climbing in Tahoe with thirteen of our adult friends from the climbing gym- this is where the rubber met the road. On the mile hike into Big Chief, I'm not sure which touched me more: watching her hold hands with her favorite climbing friends or that the guys in the group gladly took turns lifting her over some of the steep parts. Once we set up a top rope, she eagerly waited her turn to climb a 5.8 route. Although she only made it half way up, it wasn't about succeeding or failing to the top, it was pure joy just to watch her enjoy the experience in the moment. Because after all, that's all we have in life to enjoy anyway, just the moment we're in....nothing less, nothing more.

My 7 year old son on the other hand, has yet to climb outside, but he has spent the summer testing for his permanent belay card at the gym. Though I would rather watch paint dry than watch a little league game, and the idea of a soccer mom lifestyle would give me nightmares, I absolutely dig watching him crush his belay test next to grown men. Never mind the fact that the kid is already in love with engineering, and figuring out climbing routes is right up his alley. It's simply just fun watching him committed to working hard toward mastering a sport that we both happen to love. And when you commit to something you love doing, some how the hard work seems manageable, regardless of what it is.

Once I realized climbing was something where my two lives could blend together, the final climbing commitment test came during a trip to Germany with my German climbing partner. Though I lamented that my suitcase was too small to bring my own gear, I also marveled that a year earlier, it would've never been on my radar to even think about climbing, much less plan to do it on a vacation. I spent a total of 12 days in Deutschland and out of every touristy thing I did, beyond every great beer garden or weiswurst I consumed, my favorite part of the trip was lead sport climbing for the first time. As I tried not to psych myself out as I looked up without a top rope for the first time, instead of committing to the whole route, I decided just to fully commit one grip at a time, one clip at a time and one toe hold at a time. And of course, low and behold, by just staying in the moment, I ended up finishing leading the route....fully committed.

Perhaps that's how commitment in life works- if you look at the long haul, with the overhangs, the massive height or distance, you get overwhelmed at the hurdles to overcome. We can over think the statistics or the logistics of possible success and lose out on some life altering experiences in the meantime. And perhaps as overachievers we tend to only focus or commit to quantitative things we know we can be successful in. Fear of failure makes us walk in life or in relationships with one foot in and one foot out, but it's with that half effort that failure is inevitable and the possible joy of committing to something is lost.

But if we just realize that a whole life is just made up of tiny moments that you can't back, there's freedom in committing to just one at a time. Because when you commit fully to each tiny moment, each possible opportunity, just one day at a time...before you know it, a lifetime of great moments has laughed at any old fears, ignored any failures along the way, and has fulfilled your life in unimaginable ways.

And well...I guess when I put it like that, with one small step at a time, commitment isn't so scary after all...