Your Climb, My Handholds: Lessons from the Bouldering Wall

If your coach is trying to pull you up a wall, fire them.

My daughter loves bouldering. And I love cheering.

Last week she was halfway up the wall, and I was enthusiastically supporting with the best cheerleader energy I could muster.

“You got this, baby. You’re doing great!” But she was still stuck. “Try the blue rock over there!” I called out, pointing to a hold just to the left of her outstretched hand.

But she couldn’t reach it.

“Mama, push me!” she called. But I knew that was a bad idea. My push would just throw off her balance and send her tumbling down to the mat.

"I can't get you up there," I finally admitted. “But I know you can do it on your own.”

In climbing, just like in life, no one can ascend your wall for you. They can't push you higher. They can't pull you up. The journey is fundamentally yours.

Watching my daughter, I realized she already had everything needed to reach the top. The strength in her hands, the ability to find her path, the determination to fall and get up again - it was already inside her.

What helps make progress possible on a climbing wall? Handholds. Strategically placed grips that give you just enough support to pull yourself up to the next level. But those handholds aren't the source of her climbing ability; they're simply surfaces she uses to express what’s already there. Without her inner drive and capability, those colorful holds are just decorative rocks on a vertical plane.

The best coaches are like handholds. They don’t push you up the wall (impossible). They don’t climb it for you (pointless).

Instead, they:
– Provide stable points of support when you're ready to reach
– Stay fixed and reliable as you rest your weight against them
– Serve as reminders that there’s always more than one path to the top

But here's the critical part: you still do the climbing.

I’ve had clients say, "Can you just tell me what to do?" I understand the impulse. It’s the same as wanting someone to give you a little hoist up that wall.

But I’ve discovered something remarkable: when I resist the urge to give direct answers, something magical happens. The solutions people find for themselves aren’t just adequate, they’re consistently brilliant. And better than any idea I might have had. They’re perfectly tailored to their unique circumstances, values, and strengths in ways my suggestions could never be.

Of course they are. Who’s a better expert on your life than you?

Next time you're staring at your personal wall - a career transition, relationship challenge, or literal rock face - remember this:

No one can climb it for you.

But you don’t have to do it without support.

Look for the handholds. Test their strength. Pull yourself up, one grip at a time. You got this.