This past weekend, a friend and I (and her absolutely fearless 10 year old son) did a ropes course challenge. They’ve been cropping up at all the miniature golf courses around town this spring. For those of you who are unfamiliar with them, they are two-story steel structures with various obstacles made out of wood, ropes, and the occasional truck tire. They allow you to face your fears while imagining you’re competing on American Ninja Warrior. You wear a harness that is attached to a guide track above your head. The upper story contains the expert level challenges, while the lower story contains the beginner level challenges. Watching the group of sprightly 20-somethings ahead of us made it look easy, so we opted to start on the upper level.
Talking Yourself Out of Fear
As I followed my friend up the extremely narrow stairs to the upper level, noticing the complete lack of handrails or any other safety feature (aside from my harness), my adrenaline started rising. All the standard fears started playing in my head. It was a long way down to the ground. I did not have the best track record when it came to knee health. Maybe I should have listened to my husband when he said I couldn’t do this.
Standard fears can be faced rationally. I’d confirmed that the harness was secure and held my weight before getting onto the stairs. My friend (and her son) had successfully navigated the stairs before me, not to mention the party of sprightly 20-somethings. I went up and down stairs all the time without stressing out my knee. And was I really going to let someone else’s fears and concerns govern what I was or wasn’t going to be able to do?
Taking a deep breath, I finished the climb up to the second level.
Fear of the Unexpected
The first challenge was a wooden bridge shaped like chain links. Two parallel boards joined a single board which joined another pair of parallel boards, etc. The challenge appeared to be that you would have to walk along the single board section like a gymnast, one foot directly in front of the other. Oh, and there was nothing to grab to steady yourself. With my friend assuring me that it was easy, I stepped onto the bridge.
That’s when I realized that not only did it sway alarmingly from side to side, it was hinged where the boards met each other. The bridge rippled up and down in a wave every time I took a step. To face your fears of the unexpected, you only need to understand what is happening. Then they become rational fears that you can talk yourself through. In this case, I could reason out that stepping in the center of the boards would not cause them to flex. I clutched my safety harness life line, and stepped confidently across the bridge.
Get Help to Face Your Fears
The next challenge required you to step onto a skateboard-like platform and hand-over-hand another rope to pull the skateboard across to the next corner. I haven’t been on a skateboard since my early teens, and then I mostly fell off of it. Nevertheless, I confidently took hold of the hand-over-hand rope, and stepped onto the skateboard. It squirted forward before I could get my other foot onto it! I stumbled backward, and got both feet back onto the launching platform. I pulled the hand-over-hand rope in the other direction, summoning the skateboard back to me. A little experimentation demonstrated the physics involved. I would need to push the hand-over-hand rope forward with as much weight as I was transferring to the skateboard. Then switch to pulling on the hand-over-hand rope without having the skateboard squirt out from under me.
Or would I? Fortunately, my friend was waiting for me at the end platform. I called across and asked her to pull on the rope with all her weight, until I could get settled on the skateboard. She was able to counterbalance me, and I was able to get my balance situated. Sometimes we’re afraid of doing something alone that is not the least bit fearful if we have help. In that case, you can face your fears by getting help so it’s no longer fear inspiring.
Fear of Discomfort
The next challenge was a series of rope loops. You needed to balance with one foot in the first loop, reach forward, pull the next loop toward you, and step into that loop with your other foot. Pretty simple, really. Except for one thing. The loops were about a foot wide. My shoulders are 18″ wide. This meant I was constantly having to maneuver myself through openings that were too narrow for me.
On the second or third loop, I got my arms caught in the ropes, painfully wrenching my shoulder, and throwing me dangerously off balance. But I recovered, and quickly learned how to push the ropes to the side as I stepped through. It just required focus and concentration. As long as you mirrored your movements on both sides, you were fine. Sometimes that’s what you need to face your fears. Experience the thing you’re afraid of. And discover, it’s not as bad as you thought it would be.
Deep Fears
The fourth challenge, and the one that would return me to the top of the stairs, was a series of hanging posts with foot pegs sticking out in the four cardinal directions. You needed to hug the post to you as you transferred your foot to the next one, and eel your way through the sea of posts. Oh, did I mention they swung back and forth and side to side? Still, my friend scurried across them like a squirrel. I took a breather to try and figure out the best way forward. And then the skies opened up.
The wooden foot pegs were soon slick with rain, as were the posts. And I was terrified. I absolutely could not move forward. I was 100% convinced that if I stepped off the platform, something terrible would happen. Maybe I would slip, get my harness tangled in the posts, and clobber myself senseless. Or manage somehow to break an arm or leg. I knew with every fiber of my being that it would be painful, and take a very long time to heal.
Something about this situation matched the pattern of an accident I’d had when I was young. So young that I didn’t have any idea which accident it could have been. (And yes, there were that many, including falling down flights of stairs, off of cliffs, and running into walls and bicycle gears with my head. I once notably left much of my skin on a stretch of asphalt I hadn’t expected to find while running down a hillside.) The point is, there was some highly painful real life experience my brain was screaming at me not to repeat. And since I couldn’t remember what it was, I couldn’t face my fears rationally. Fear brain was fully in control.
Avoid What You Can’t Outwit
The ride operator came up to help me, since they needed to close the upper level when it rained. She reassured me that the foot pegs were safe, even wiping the first one off with her sleeve. I was adamant. No way was I getting onto that death trap. I suppose their training includes knowing when to help you face your fears and when to just get you off the ride. So she helped me down to the steel support beam below the challenge, and let me cross on the beam. It was still scary, but not terrifying.
On the first level, I easily restored my confidence with a bridge of swaying wooden disks, a series of tire swings, and the easiest challenge of all, a row of swinging platforms. (The photo with this blog is a view through the rope wall, of me crossing the series of tire swings.) All I needed to do to get back to the exit was cross a rope wall. A wet rope wall. Instantly, the panic was back. I was certain that my foot would slip off of one of the ropes, and I’d be painfully injured. Clearly, whatever caused my childhood accident involved stepping on something no more than an inch around and wet. Perhaps I’d played on a jungle gym in the rain? Dimly, I recalled falling off a jungle gym hard enough to knock my front teeth loose.
That was just enough rationality that my thinking brain was able to come back online. And I quickly realized I did not have to go forward. Sometimes, the way to face your fears is simply to acknowledge that they’re in your way, and go a different way. I could turn around and go back, through the three challenges I’d just completed. Wishing I’d thought of that solution on the upper level, before I had to be rescued by the ride operator, I turned around and went back the way I came.
