What One-Star Book Reviews Teach Us About Training
People say that the eyes are the window to the soul. They’re wrong, though. The true window to the soul is the one-star review. If I want to read thoughtful criticisms about a product or service, I’ll scroll down to the three-star section. But if I want to watch Kathy fighting her demons in the review section for a forty pound sack of Lucky Charms Marshmallows, I’m going straight for the one-stars.
Recently, I decided to go through one-star reviews for climbing training books to see what I could find. A common theme quickly appeared:
“This book contains nothing that could not be found on the internet for free.”
“This book would be good for beginners, but not for anyone advanced.”
“It’s all obvious stuff.”
“The author spent the entire book coming up with different ways to explain basic advice. Don’t waste your money.”
Do these people follow all of the advice that they are calling basic? Of course not. If they did then they would know how much value there is in simple ideas that are taken seriously.
These people want something new to explain why they haven’t been improving. If their climbing is plateaued because of a reason they already know about, then the fault falls on them. It’s far more comfortable for us to blame ignorance for our lack of progress than it is to blame our own efforts.
Stop waiting around for shiny new advice to come save you. Exhaust the basics. They keep showing up in all of these books for a reason. They work.
We know spending time on a finishing link is smart tactics for hard climbs. So why not apply the same concept to individual moves?
Learning when and how to compensate for a weakness is a skill. And skills need to be practiced.
Lowball boulders, while not as proud, can still teach us new movement, new ways to utilize tension, and force us into finding new techniques.
I never thought I’d be recommending this, but some of y’all should be putting less effort into becoming technically better climbers.
Training principles are important, but when they creep into performance, your climbing will suffer. Nearly every time.
We have become collectors of dots. But there’s one major thing that happens when we connect dots that is entirely lost in mass dot collection: critical thinking.
Do you really have terrible willpower? Or are you surrounded by distractions and obstacles?
You have a climbing trip coming up. The rock is different. The style is different. Your pre-trip time is short and the number of days you’ll be climbing, even shorter…
Giving artificially low grades to climbs increases their perceived value for our training and development. The more something is mis-graded the more we naturally want to prioritize it.
Discussion around grades can be so polarizing that many of us avoid the topic.
Climbing starts off as this self-feeding cycle that has you wishing you could climb seven days a week. What happens when this cycle stops bringing improvement though?
Look, it’s important to not let things get overcomplicated. Hunting for elegant answers keeps us from getting bogged down with minutia. But when we take it too far, we lose sight of the bigger picture.
Use strength to leverage every other aspect of your climbing, not replace them.
If everything you do is a finger workout, then when do your hands get a chance to recover?
There is a common theme between a grilled cheese sandwich and good training advice.
The more accurately we define our problems, the more approachable it will feel to find solutions.
Maybe the most understated way of getting better is to build fallback successes into your plan.
How much time should climbers spend becoming more well rounded vs. improving their strengths?
As cool as assessments and standards are, they can easily leave people settling for “good enough” when they have the potential to do much more.
Being able to quickly recognize familiar sequences is a crucial ingredient to harder climbing.
The difficulties of a task should be such that they help the learner translate the skill to performance.
It’s far more comfortable for us to blame ignorance for our lack of progress than it is to blame our own efforts.
You’re watching your client, student, partner, or bestie struggle. And you want to help. But how? It entirely depends on the goal.
We think we know exactly what climbing looks like. We’ve zeroed in on the details. And in this case, it really isn’t those details that matter.
It’s far more comfortable for us to blame ignorance for our lack of progress than it is to blame our own efforts.
“How much better would you be if you had all of those days back?”
Nate snapped the banana in half. Clean break, right through the middle. Like a ninja.
One of the most common places things start to fall apart is at the very beginning of the move.