Is Your Projecting Toxic?
If you’ve ever poured months of your life into a project, you probably know the feeling of the dreaded “One Fall” zone. If you don’t—well, you’re a way better climber than me. But what happens when you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve one-fallen a route and are dangerously approaching triple-digit attempts?
When I’m coaching individuals to climb their hardest, we call this part of the projecting phase the “One Fall Hell.” And it’s in this “One Fall Hell” where some of the most toxic projecting moments inevitably occur.
The pitfalls of One Fall Hell
Projecting becomes an endless redpoint cycle: Every attempt ends in the same place, just short of success. No matter where I fall, I can pull back on, climb through, and reach the top—earning the dreaded “I’m so close!” without ever actually clipping the chains.
At first, this can feel motivating. But stay in this zone too long, and projecting shows its toxic side. The curiosity that drew you to the climb fades. Movement becomes mechanical, automatic, uninspired. Self-doubt creeps in. Negative thought loops start to run the sessions. What should feel playful and creative instead begins to feel heavy, stifling, and draining.
Projecting at your absolute limit will always cut both ways. Done well, it’s exciting, full of growth and accomplishment. Done poorly, it can bring stress, frustration, comparison, body-image issues, and unhappiness.
What toxic projecting looks like
When I was in my late teens, I lived deep in One Fall Hell. I jumped on climbs far above my ability with little understanding of movement, pacing, or even how to use clipping stances effectively. I thought raw effort would be enough. And it wasn’t.
The result was ugly. I became unbearable—hyper-focused, self-absorbed, uninterested in others. I was the exact opposite of the climber and the person I wanted to be.
From here, a pair of outcomes diverge. One leads to grinding through the cycle until you finally send. But if you’ve been trapped long enough, clipping the chains may feel more like relief than accomplishment. The other possible outcome is shelving the climb in the “someday” category—or walking away altogether.
On the flip side, there’s the danger of never trying your hardest. I’ve met plenty of climbers who live in the comfort of a “someday mentality.” They avoid the discomfort of real effort, and in doing so, hold themselves back. That’s where potential goes to die.
So what’s the answer to avoid toxic projecting?
It’s time to incorporate a low-stakes projecting mentality. (And to be clear, I’m talking about what for many, is a normal climbing mindset.)
This is why balance matters. High-stakes and low-stakes projects have to coexist. You can chase your peak potential, but you can’t live there all the time. Routes in the range of “I can do this in three or four sessions” build confidence. They give you a foundation you’ll need when you’re deep in the grind of harder, potentially more obsessive projecting.
And here’s a wild idea: Low-stakes projecting isn’t just about the difficulty of the route. It’s also a mindset—an approach that takes the pressure off the outcome, even when you’re on one of the hardest climbs you’ve ever touched. That, too, is a low-stakes approach.
What does this look like on the ground? Project a route, but don’t invest your entire soul and ego into the outcome of a redpoint. As you go into the projecting experience, set more goals than just sending. Instead of only projecting with the goal of sending a specific route, project to learn, project for the experience, or project just for the fun of it.
Failure is part of projecting. In fact, if you’re not failing, it’s not really a project, right? The paradox is that failure is the healthy part of climbing. It keeps us learning, growing, and pushing toward our potential. The real trick is shaping that process into something healthy, instead of something that tears you down.
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