Rock climbing is different from most other outdoor recreation activities in that gear failure or misuse can lead to death. If the rope breaks, if the harness is put on wrong or if an anchor pops out of the rock face, you could die. There’s not much margin for error. Despite this, rock climbing tends to be a sport of relaxation and peace.

For me, rock climbing delivers a similar emotional experience as yoga, not so much the thrill that comes with high-speed sports such as skiing. After all, as long as the gear works and is used properly, rock climbing is nothing but a sort of balancing act: balancing the body while also balancing the mind.

Rock climbing requires intense concentration and the ability to cast innate fears aside. This starts with trusting the gear, which can be a major hurdle.

There I was, for the first time in my life, 40 feet up a wall and dangling from a rope. My anchor held tight in the sandstone, while a stranger below kept me in place as a counterweight.

As I paused between scant holds on the side of Grey Rock at Garden of the Gods, my palms sweated profusely. It was the first time I’d trusted my life to a rope and the first time I’d been so far off the ground. I looked around to enjoy the view, but the reminder of my precarious situation made it difficult to focus. I worked to fight back the fear.

“Not bad,” I thought to myself, shocked that a boy from Indiana with a lifelong fear of heights had deliberately made it so high with his own hands and feet. I reminded myself that countless people had climbed the route using the same bolted anchor.

With only a few moves left, I noticed I was bleeding from several cuts. Who knew that rocks could be so sharp and hard?

As I pushed my fingertips into the next tiny feature, the roughly 3-inch chunk of rock popped off, crashing to the ground.

“And that’s why we wear helmets!” my belayer shouted. “All good?”

“All good!” I replied, though my mind drifted to wondering whether the rock holding my anchor could crumble in the same way. My heart began to beat faster, and convincing myself to keep moving grew more difficult.

“Trust the gear, trust the process,” I said to myself, a feeble attempt to calm the nerves.

In roughly the same time it took to get 40 feet off the ground, I ascended the final 10 feet. Reaching the anchor offered the ultimate relief.

“Good to come down!” I called down, ready to put my soles back on solid ground.

“Want to enjoy the view a bit first?” my belayer asked.

I paused for about 5 seconds so as to not seem too eager and then replied: “I’m good!”

It would be several more years before I’d really take the dive into rock climbing. Eventually, I’d get over looming fears and start to feel the calm that comes with being so focused on the task at hand.

It’s easy to see why so many love rock climbing, but in most cases, I doubt it’s for the thrill.

It’s for tranquility. It’s for the concentration. It’s for the escape. And it just so happens to come with a pretty good view too.