Climbing is a beautiful conversation between the body and the rock. But when the rain is lashing against the window, or the project has shut me down for the third season in a row, that conversation moves indoors. It moves to a small, wooden edge mounted above a doorframe: the hangboard.
Let’s be honest. Hangboarding is not glamorous. It is not the sun-drenched summit shot or the fluid dyno. It is stillness. It is discomfort. It is staring at a stopwatch while your forearm tendons scream in protest.
Recently, during a particularly grim winter session, my playlist shuffled to a song I hadn’t heard in years: Whitney Houston’s I Look to You.
I almost laughed. Here I was, sweating through a repeater protocol, fingers burning, and the Queen of Pop was singing about redemption. But then I listened. And suddenly, the hang board made perfect sense.
The Ladder of Despair
In climbing, your fingers are your currency. But they are also the weakest link. To get stronger, you must hang where you are weak. You must hold a 14mm edge when your body wants to barn-door off the wall.
Whitney sang: “After all my strength is gone, in you I can be strong.”
That is the hangboard mantra. When you lift your feet off the ground, there is no momentum, no legs to push, no dynamic flow. There is only your raw grip. The first five seconds feel fine. Seconds six through ten feel like betrayal. By second twelve, your strength is gone.
You look at the hold. You look at the timer. You look up—usually at the ceiling, or the wall, or whatever wooden deity you’ve bolted to your rental apartment.
That is the “I look to you” moment. The board does not care about your ego. It does not care that you sent a V7 last week. It offers a simple, brutal contract: Trust the edge. Do not let go.
Breath as a Prayer
Whitney’s version of I Look to You is a masterclass in control. She holds back the tsunami of her voice until the very end. She breathes through the verse so she can soar on the chorus.
Hangboarding is the same. When you hang, the natural instinct is to panic. To gasp. To tense your shoulders up to your ears. That is failure.
To succeed, you must look at the board and whisper, “Breathe.”
You exhale the tension out of your jaw. You inhale stability into your core. Just like Whitney holding that long note in the bridge, you learn that power isn’t just force—it is the management of air. If you can breathe, you can hang one more second. And one more second is all it takes to build a stronger crimp.
When the Board Holds You
The spiritual twist of I Look to You is that it isn't a love song to a person; it's a song about surrender. After the storms, the losses, the "silver and gold" that fade, Houston looks to something solid.
Climbing is full of variables: slick holds, bad beta, a head game that crumbles at the third bolt. But the hangboard is immutable. It is always there. It is always 20mm wide. It is always honest.
On days when life feels like a trad climb without a piton—when work is hard, when the news is heavy, when my body feels like lead—I go to the board. Not to crush. Not to train for a grade. But to remember what solid feels like.
I hang, and I look to the wood. Not for salvation, but for stability.
The Repeater Protocol of Healing
Whitney recorded that song after a long, public period of struggle. It is an anthem of persistence. Similarly, no one hangboards because they are at their peak. They hangboard because they fell off. Because they couldn't hold on. Because they want to be better tomorrow than they were today.
Hangboarding teaches you one essential truth: You are stronger than your first failure.
If you drop off after 5 seconds, you rest, and you try 6 seconds next week. You repeat the movement until the impossible becomes the warm-up. That is the repeaters protocol—and it is the recipe for any recovery, climbing or otherwise.
The Final Hold
So, next time you set up your stopwatch and chalk your fingertips, don't put on heavy metal or aggressive hip-hop. Put on Whitney Houston.
As you sink into the half-crimp, let her sing: “As I look to you… I will be strong.”
Feel the burn. Control your breath. And understand that a simple wooden edge is not just a training tool. It is a mirror. It shows you exactly where you are weak. And then, if you look to it with patience, it shows you exactly how to become unbreakable.
When you finally drop off the board, shaking but smiling, you realize the truth: You never really hold the hanging board. It holds you.
Training Tip: Start with 7 seconds on, 3 seconds off (repeaters) for 6 rounds. Rest 3 minutes. Do 3 sets. And remember: I learned to survive... I learned to live. Now go hang.