“You have to feel like maybe you can’t do it. Otherwise, why are you bothering?”

This time of year I’m reminded of these words from Dave MacLeod, one of the best all-around climbers in the world, as I take stock of 2023 and look ahead to 2024.

As always, climbing goals and training ideas are high on my list and I tweak them every year in an effort to improve. After decades of failures and some successes, and having researched how others think about human performance, there’s one consistent element that seems to be the key to learning and improvement in just about everything: discomfort.

Seems a bit cruel, doesn’t it? Alas, the human condition …

Discomfort often means doing things where we have the most to lose, in terms of ego, and little to gain — at least visibly. It’s a scary, humbling place we tend to avoid at all costs, yet where we have the greatest opportunity for growth.

I’ve noticed that climbers, for example, avoid discomfort in one of two ways. They tend to climb things either well within their ability and comfort zone, or so far beyond them that failure is expected; the former because it’s fun and comfortable, the latter because it’s so difficult that there’s really nothing at stake (with the bonus of being seen trying something “hard”).

It’s that terrain in between, which garners no accolades but which presents a personal challenge where, crucially, the outcome is uncertain. On paper we “should” be able to do these climbs, but for any number of reasons — the rock angle, exposure, distance between bolts or gear, unfamiliar rock type, weather and conditions — we may fail.

This uncomfortable middle ground makes us squirm because it exposes our weaknesses and, if we want to improve, forces us to face them. It’s exactly here, in our zone of dis-comfort, where we have the most to learn.

Like most people, I tend to steer clear of my discomfort zone, preferring to feel cozy and confident thank-you-very-much. Day to day I’d rather have fun and stagnate than force myself into that awkward arena of uncertainty and fear, whether it’s fear of heights, fear of failure, fear of success (yup, that’s definitely a thing), or simply the fear of looking like a complete idiot.

According to Steve McClure, one of the world’s most successful rock climbers, “Fear is the single factor holding most climbers back from reaching their potential.”

I wrestled with fear at the crag just the other day, when my brain kept producing reasons why I shouldn’t really go for it on my project: a long sport route I’ve been trying on and off for more than a year. Keep practicing the moves, said my head. Don’t try too hard until you feel more confident.

I’ve never once regretted giving an all-out effort on something, regardless of the outcome. Paradoxically, this is precisely the kind of effort we seem hardwired to avoid. On my project, I somehow overcame my inner narrative and tried my hardest to climb it without falling. In fact, I was afraid to fall (despite the falls being completely safe) and afraid to fail, but I pushed through anyway.

I eventually did fall off, but as I swung in space at the end of the rope I felt deeply satisfied with the effort, even though I had “failed.” I even discovered a few subtle ways to move more efficiently for my next attempt.

Trying and failing is always better than not trying at all.

That said, our habits tend to leak from one aspect of life into others, so it’s no surprise that most of us avoid discomfort in everyday life as well. Here, the stakes are obviously far higher than success or failure on a rock climb, yet working through discomfort is where we have the greatest opportunity to become better people.

With just a few weeks left of 2023, I’m not the only one thinking ahead to next year. Just imagine what we may achieve if we’re willing to be a little more scared and a little less comfortable.

Contact Chris Weidner at cweidner8@gmail.com. Follow him on Instagram @christopherweidner and X @cweidner8.