Chapter Twenty-One. Grit and Glory

The creative fight is less Monday Night Football and more climbing up the sheer face of a rock. Playing in the NFL requires bulk, might, and strength. It’s hyped up, and it’s loud. Rock climbing is discreet. Climbers use ingenuity, agility, and guts to accomplish their goals. Last year’s Super Bowl was watched by 111.5 million fans. Most great rock climbs are witnessed by only a few, just like creative pursuits, which often take place in isolation rather than in front of adoring fans. And football is a fight against another team, but rock climbing is a fight within. The climber must dig deep into his reservoirs of tenacity, technical skill, and creativity to overcome the odds. Football is played to win. Mountain climbers ascend tall peaks “for the spirit of adventure to keep alive the soul of man,” as George Mallory said.

After nineteen days and 3000 feet of climbing, Tommy Caldwell and Kevin Jorgeson stood on top of El Capitan peak in Yosemite with joy and tears in their eyes. These two guys had earned their victory. They had just finished a free-ascent climb that took seven years to plan and complete. After years of training and attempts, the impossible had been done—a new route was established as one of the most difficult climbs in the world. Midway up the climb, Kevin posted on Twitter, “This is not an effort to conquer. It’s about realizing a dream.”

Tommy and Kevin are the champions of their game. Yet if you were to walk by them on the street you wouldn’t know you had just passed two of the greatest climbers of all time. It’s not uncommon for climbers to be slight in build yet immensely strong. Their strength is often hidden under a layer of fleece and a waterproof shell. The only way you might have recognized Tommy Caldwell is if you noticed that the top half of his index finger is gone.

Tommy lost his finger to a table saw accident more than ten years ago. The doctors were able to reattach the severed finger but told him he’d never climb again. After some trial and error, Tommy had it removed because it held him back. A few months after it was removed, Tommy free-climbed Salathe Wall, another route on El Capitan, in less than 24 hours. He has since climbed some of the most difficult mountains with only four fingers on one hand. Tommy is as tough as they get—not that he’d ever say that about himself. You’d never catch him flexing his muscles for someone to admire. He is humble, mindful, and aware. And so is the creative fight. It doesn’t gloat and it doesn’t crush. Yet creativity isn’t some pushover that’s afraid of a difficult task.

Like rock climbing, creativity is a subtle sport that’s easy to miss. Just like the first image in this chapter—look closer and you’ll see two climbers you might have overlooked.

Those who join the creative fight know that creativity feeds off hardship just like climbers who are constantly in search of more difficult routes. Difficulty clarifies the creative fight. Tommy put it this way: “Through hardship in my own life, I learned that it is what changes us the most. It puts us in an intensely meditative state where we figure out what we really want.” Tommy has been through a lot, including being kidnapped at gunpoint and held hostage by rebels in Kyrgyzstan over a decade ago, but the hardship is what gives him his edge. In his own words, “It motivates me to go for things that I have always dreamed of.” Guys like Tommy embody the ideal that the more difficult the challenge the better the reward.

The grittiest rock climber I ever met is a man named Mark Wellman. I was 18 when I asked him for his autograph and shook his hand. I had recently hiked the well-established trail to the top of Half Dome in Yosemite. At the top there is a rock called the diving board. I inched myself to the edge and peered almost 5000 feet to the valley below. As I shook Mark’s hand I was in awe of the strength of his grasp. He had recently climbed up the face of Half Dome without the use of his legs. After 13 days and over 7000 pull-ups, Mark became the first paraplegic to make the climb.

We tend to think our own problems are large. But that’s just because we’re comparing them to things that are too small. Like me writing this book: “Oh, writing is so hard,” I complain. If Mark Wellman can pull himself up Half Dome, I can sit down with my shiny laptop in a comfortable coffee shop and hack out a few words. The obstacle is never a valid excuse. Rock climbers look for obstacles, and that’s what lights their fire.

When I looked into Mark’s eyes, I saw a kind of strength that I hadn’t seen before. When I saw Mark’s determination and shook his hand, it changed my life. It was like a transfer of energy had taken place. I had no idea that Mark’s resilience would help me develop my own.

When he was younger, Chris wasn’t much of an athlete but got inspired to do a triathlon after seeing the event on television. After a number of years of insanely difficult work, Chris became a pro—it was a dream come true. Just as his career was starting to take off, his dreams were shattered when some doofus ran over his foot. That culprit was not a stranger but a close personal friend. It was me.

Chris fought his way back and went on to set course records and become one of the best in the world. He picked up amazing sponsors, spoke at charity events, and encouraged others to accomplish their dreams. Chris was often featured on the cover of magazines. My favorite cover was the one that his sponsors asked me to shoot.

It’s difficult to describe how horrible it feels to injure one of your closest friends. Not to mention that I thought I had ruined his career. The accident was clearly my fault, but there was nothing that could be done. Chris never held a grudge and never gave up. He even used his position to give a boost to my photography career. Chris embodies the creative fight ideals.

When I feel defeated or overwhelmed, I look at Chris’s shoe and it restores my hope and drive. That shoe helps me to stop slouching and stand up straight. So does that picture of Mark Wellman and the thought of Tommy Caldwell making his climb. If we allow them to, people who do great things can become like mentors who teach us resolve.