“You’re thinking about it every day. What you’re thinking about and what you’re dreaming about at night is so important. [I think about] climbing and moves and everything, and then subconsciously the body’s working on those moves like problem-solving…And that’s also why, I think, it’s impossible to become good at something you don’t love. Because you’re not going to think about it.”
- Magnus Midtbø
I think of boulder problems like a child thinks of Christmas gifts or birthday presents: constantly and with disruptive enthusiasm. Sleep is important, but nothing robs it quite like the promise of a new toy or, the climber’s new toy equivalent: a boulder problem I’m close to sending.
I try to shut off my brain. I tell myself to forget the project, to focus on the sound of ocean waves, or cricket chirps, or rain, or whatever mocked bit of headphone nature I’m distracting myself with this week. But it doesn’t work. It never does. When I do eventually fall asleep it feels not like a prelude to rejuvenation but rather like forfeiture.
But Magnus has permitted me to embrace the pillow routine of imagined burns and pantomimed crux work.
Magus says the nights spent swimming in adrenaline are a good thing. Night practice, I’ve taken to calling it. And like with any practice, once it’s taken seriously, night practice promises real returns.
As cheesy as it sounds, time and time again, when I imagine myself sending a problem, the next day I often can send the problem.
Magnus has permitted me to embrace the pillow routine of imagined burns and pantomimed crux work.
I’ve learned though, that true night practice takes focus. It’s easy for the mind to wander, to gloss over the unknowns, to simply assume success. It’s easy to let the actual shape of a difficult edge or the true depth of a slippery hueco remain blurry as you leap to the next hold. But you must focus to truly see every inch, every toe and finger placement, every position. Skip nothing. This is hard. The brain is designed to take shortcuts. Fight against that urge. Nothing can remain blurry. When you find yourself skipping frames, stop! Rewind. Reset your approach. Now, try again, this time until the imagination abides by the real, not vice versa. When the send is clear in your mind, it will be possible in the body.
The concept of night practice is backed by science. In the wonderful book Vertical Mind: Psychological Approaches for Optimal Rock Climbing by Don McGrath and Jeff Elison the authors spend considerable time explaining the concept of muscle memory, something we’ve all heard often but probably haven’t spent too much time truly understanding. If you’ve heard anything about muscle memory, you’ve probably heard the phrase, “Neurons that fire together, wire together.” Or as McGrath and Elison put it, “when Neuron A fires, causing Neuron B to fire, changes occur in the neurons that make this firing sequence “easier” or more likely in the future.” They go on: “What this means for climbing, and life in general, is that repetition, practice, and drills improve performance by changing neural connections” and “Thinking works the same way. Studying, practice, and repetition change neurons so that they are more likely to fire together— you learn ideas.”
Physical practice is great. Imagined practice is, too.
Thinking, therefore, is the deliberate process of hijacking the body.
Consider the 4-minute mile. For a human to run one mile in under 4 minutes was long-thought impossible. Then, in 1954, Roger Bannister ran a mile in 3:59.4. In the years since Bannister’s milestone, the "four-minute barrier" has been broken by over 1,700 athletes. Did athletes all over the world suddenly get stronger and faster? No. They simply no longer had an excuse. Seeing an impossible accomplishment remapped their brains. They were no longer allowed to disbelieve.
Thinking is the deliberate process of hijacking the body.
When done deliberately, night practice is an opportunity to watch the impossible happen. And when you see it, you can do it.
Tonight, as you lay awake thinking of your boulder project, don’t fight the adrenaline. Embrace it as you would any training session.
The climber: Magnus Midtbø
The source: Teaching beginner how to go from V0 to V5 in one session | Zach King
References:
Vertical Mind: Psychological Approaches for Optimal Rock Climbing by Don McGrath and Jeff Elison
Thanks for writing this piece. I’m writing a piece right now about why I love bouldering and was delighted to find your Substack. Look forward to reading more. J