Handcracker and the Art of Fortitude

I don’t know if Handcracker is my favorite climb or my nemesis. Probably both. It’s one of those routes you don’t just “send” — you survive it. And I did. Barely.

Here’s the thing: I didn’t have the crack climbing skills at the time. What I did have was determination and a complete inability to quit. Bailing wasn’t an option. So I made it through the only way I knew how: aid climbing my way up, shoving cams above me, clipping into them with my PAS, and hauling myself upward. Over and over.

It wasn’t pretty, but it taught me something that climbing textbooks don’t: how to trust my gear, how to weight my placements, and how to keep moving when the skill set isn’t fully there yet. Sometimes stubbornness is a skill.

Endurance and Pain Tolerance

Crack climbing is its own special hell. Hands and feet don’t move the way you want them to. You’re constantly trying to sync up your body while your skin screams in protest. If sport climbing is about power and flow, crack climbing is about endurance and pain tolerance.

That’s my biggest struggle right now. I can pull hard moves on sport routes. I can boulder at a level that demands precision. But put me on a long crack, and suddenly it’s about how much suffering I can take without peeling off. It’s frustrating, but it’s also addicting. Every slip, every flailed jam, every desperate grunt is a reminder of what I don’t have yet — and what I’m determined to get.
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Why I Climb

People ask me why I put myself through this. The bruises, the pump, the fear. Here’s the answer: I have chronic anxiety. My brain is a crowded freeway, thoughts racing in every direction, all the time.

Climbing is the only thing that shuts it down. On the wall, the noise disappears. There’s only the next move, the next jam, the next placement. My focus is absolute. My breathing slows. The panic in my head turns into calm in my body.

It’s not relaxation. It’s presence. And presence is rare for me.

What It’s Taught Me

Handcracker, and climbing in general, has drilled one thing into me: I have fortitude I didn’t know I had. Perseverance that borders on stubbornness. I’m not the strongest climber in the gym. I’m not the most technical on the wall. But once I set my mind on something? Good luck stopping me.

That mindset has carried me through climbing, work, and family. I may not be the smartest or the flashiest, but I will grind it out. I will plan, set goals, and execute until it’s done. And if I have to aid my way up a route that’s way above my skill level, so be it.

Closing Grip

Climbing isn’t about conquering the rock. The rock doesn’t care. It’s about conquering yourself — your fear, your fatigue, your excuses. Handcracker reminded me of that in the most brutal way possible.

And honestly? That’s why I keep coming back. Not for balance, not for glory. For the fight. For the focus. For the fortitude.

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