There are moments in life that stop you cold. A story from a livestream stayed with me. A man with ALS spent years searching for a treatment, finally found a medication that seemed tailored for him, only to learn that "tailored" didn't mean effective for him. The drug worked on a highly individualized basis, and for him, the effect was minimal.
He had spent his entire adult life focused on one thing: getting better. He had never taken a real trip, never seen the ocean. And now, with time running out, he made a quiet, powerful decision. He would not spend his remaining days chasing a cure that might never come. Instead, he would go see the sea.
This isn't a story about "be grateful for your health." It's about something else. It's about choosing a meaningful direction when the ideal outcome is no longer available. It's about redefining success when the original goal slips away.
And strangely, this story connects to something seemingly unrelated: hangboard training for climbers.
Why a Hang board?
A hangboard is a simple tool — a board with small edges, sloped holds, and pockets, mounted on a wall. Climbers use it to build finger strength. But if you think about it, hanging board training shares a quiet philosophy with that ALS patient's final journey.
You see, many climbers start hangboarding with a clear goal: get stronger fingers, climb harder grades. But along the way, plateaus happen. Injuries happen. The "cure" — a specific training protocol, a magical edge size, a perfect routine — often turns out to be highly individualized. What works for your friend may not work for you. The drug, so to speak, may show "not obvious effect."
At that point, you have a choice. Quit. Or redefine what success looks like.
The Real Purpose of Hangboard Training
That climber who doesn't achieve their V8 goal but still hangs consistently, still shows up, still finds joy in the process — that climber is living the deeper lesson. The hangboard is not just a tool for finger strength. It's a practice in doing something hard without an immediate reward. It's a small, daily decision to pursue a meaningful direction, even when the "cure" isn't guaranteed.
Let me be clear: I'm not comparing climbing plateaus to ALS. Not even close. But the structure of the experience — effort, hope, disappointment, and then the pivot toward a new kind of purpose — that structure exists in both scales.
The man in the story didn't get to climb harder grades. He got to see the ocean. That was his "climbing hangboard session" — a meaningful act performed under limitation.
How to Start Hangboarding (Without Losing the Plot)
If you're new to hangboarding, here's what you need to know. But I want you to remember: the goal isn't just stronger fingers. The goal is to build a relationship with effort that doesn't depend on outcomes.
1. Warm up thoroughly. Never start cold. Five minutes of cardio, wrist circles, light finger stretches. Then hang on the largest edge (30mm+) at 50% effort. Respect your body like it's the only one you'll ever have.
2. Start with open-hand grip. Not half crimp. Not full crimp. Open hand is safer and more sustainable. It's the training equivalent of choosing the ocean instead of the unattainable cure.
3. Keep your feet on the ground (initially). For the first several months, let your toes lightly touch the floor. You're not trying to impress anyone. You're building capacity, not proving your worth.
4. Use a simple repeater protocol.
· Find a 25-30mm edge.
· Hang for 7 seconds.
· Rest 3 seconds with feet down.
· Repeat 6 times = one set.
· Rest 2-3 minutes.
· Do 3-5 sets.
· Do this once or twice a week.
That's it. No heroics. Just consistency.
The Deeper Takeaway
That ALS patient didn't stop looking for treatments because he gave up. He stopped because he realized that some goals are not fully within our control. But what is within our control is the next right action. For him, it was booking a trip to the sea. For a climber on a rock climbing hangboard, it's showing up, doing the hangs, and letting go of the grade.
We are all, in some way, managing an uncertain outcome. The drug may not work perfectly. The training plateau may last months. The project may never send.
But the ocean is still there. And the hangboard is still there. And between you and them is not a guarantee of success — just a choice to move forward, meaningfully, today.
That's not weakness. That's the strongest thing a person can do.
Train well. And don't forget to see the sea.