Trigger Warning - Body Image, Eating Disorders and Mental Health 

Originally published in Beta Magazine

I’ve had a complicated relationship with my body since adolescence. Aged 15, I developed issues with food and exercise that have shadowed much of my adult life. In my first year at university, I took up rock climbing. Underweight and weak, I was an unlikely candidate for an intensive full-body sport, but I was quickly hooked. As I began to climb regularly, my relationship with my body began to change. 

When I piece together the dynamics of my relationship with my body, it’s clear to me that I never really wanted one. Too ‘this’, too ‘that’, or just too much responsibility. The fantasy of living life without physical form was very real to me. How different life might be if we wore our bodies like uniforms. As I grew older and struggled to adapt to independent life, my feelings about my body bridged a struggle with depression, anxiety and substance abuse. At a time in my life when everything felt out of control, strictly managing my weight became a way to feign composure. My attempts to take up less space gave me the illusion of discipline and a BMI of just 16 provided a quantifiable measure of self-constraint. 

When I started climbing, my body became connected to utility for the first time in my life. The idea that I could view it as a useful tool was one I’d never before encountered. I was spending time in an environment that celebrated muscles and health as markers of strength and hard work. My own body changed to accommodate more defined shoulders and arms and I began to recognise a new feeling taking root - pride. 

It’s difficult to know exactly when the balance tipped, but taking up climbing marked the beginning of a shift in self-perception. My identity as a climber became a key player in reframing my definition of strength and self-efficacy. With its emphasis on individual self-improvement and tenacity, climbing helped me to feel in control of my body in a healthy way. On the wall, I understood better what it truly meant to be self-disciplined. Though I still struggled with distorted thinking and restrictive eating habits, climbing encouraged me to see value in my body where I hadn’t previously been able to.  

As my shape and size changed, my feelings towards my body evolved. Becoming a climber meant being constantly reminded of my body. Comments from friends about my more prominent back muscles and finding I could no longer fit into old clothes contradicted my pride. I began to compare my shape and size to other climbers which muddied my view of what a climber ‘should’ look like. 

For so many years, I’d equated success with being barely there. My marker of improvement was watching a number fall on a scale. Now I was striving for strength and functionality that demanded a healthy weight and proper nutrition. For a long time, I inhabited a strange no-man's land of wishing to grow and shrink simultaneously. Often, I’m still there. 

In the years I’ve been climbing, assimilating consecutive feelings of failure and success in the face of weight gain has been difficult and the dissonance between my social and athletic body image has been confusing. In the climbing gym I feel proud of the biceps and shoulders I’ve worked so hard to build, but do I feel the same in a bikini? Will I feel the same in my wedding dress? 

I realise now that issues with body image rarely orbit an attainable goal or weight but speak to deeper set feelings of self-worth and social conditioning. Popular media may have sold me the lie that my biceps might not belong in my wedding dress but the longer I climb and the more I learn to respect my body, the more I understand that my physical appearance can never measure my success in this sport or how beautiful I will feel on my wedding day. 

The more I open up about my struggles with my body, the more I realise that so many of us are weathering the same storm. Body issues come in all shapes and sizes but they’re endemic in climbing. Be it to achieve lower weights or certain physiques, the pressure on climbers can fuel distortions at all points on the spectrum. As climbers, it’s our collective responsibility to shine a light on the darker corners of our sport and to promote healing through shared experience.

I don’t doubt that I will always struggle with body image but climbing has given me the tools I need to reimagine my relationship with myself and my body. To feel strong and able to enjoy the sport I love so much. I have to respect this body and truly see strength as the strength to defy pressures to look a certain way, fit into certain sized clothes or weigh a certain amount. 

Whilst I’m still growing to understand my new ‘climber’s body’, my love for climbing now outweighs my compulsion to starve myself. It is my constant reminder that my biggest project will always be self-acceptance and I’m now able to view my body not as a project in ‘down-sizing’ but as a project in building skill and strength. For as long as I can be climbing up walls and playing on rocks, I will be learning to love my body for the things it can do.

May I continue to let my changing shape teach me how to accept myself and speak for the strength I’ve gained. May I continue to feel proud of my growing lats, my bumpy climbers feet, my callused hands and my bruised legs. May I continue to see this body of mine as a product of hard work, dedication and the desire to improve. These are the things that make me a climber, and I will learn to celebrate them.