I wish I had started hangboarding sooner.
Not because I enjoy suffering in a cold garage at 6 AM. Not because I think hangboarding is glamorous. But because every injury, every plateau, every moment I spent blaming my "weak fingers" instead of actually training them — those were years I cannot get back.
This is a blog about regret. But it is also a blog about fixing mistakes. And if you are reading this, you still have time to avoid mine.
The years I wasted being afraid
Let me take you back five years.
I climbed V5 in the gym. I climbed 5.11c outside. And I was stuck. For two full years, I did not improve by a single grade.
Why? I told myself a beautiful lie: "I don't need to hangboard. I just need to climb more. Hangboarding is for hardcore sport climbers. Hangboarding will ruin my precious pulleys."
So I kept climbing the same routes, making the same mistakes, and wondering why my fingers always felt like the weak link.
Looking back, I was not being cautious. I was being lazy. And I was being arrogant.
I thought climbing alone would magically build finger strength. I thought "just climbing more" was a training plan. I thought the hang board was a dangerous tool for obsessive athletes.
I was wrong. Painfully, expensively, regrettably wrong.
What I wished someone had told me
Here is the truth I learned — three injuries and four years later — the hard way:
1. Climbing does not efficiently train your fingers.
When you climb, you spend 80% of your time on jugs, resting, or shaking out. Your fingers get maybe 10–15 seconds of real load per minute. A hanging board gives you focused, measurable, repeatable load in 7-second intervals. It is not a replacement for climbing. It is a shortcut to strength that climbing alone cannot provide.
2. Hangboarding, done right, is safer than climbing.
This sounds crazy, but hear me out. On a climbing hangboard, you control everything: edge depth, added weight, rest time, posture. There are no dynamic catches, no unexpected foot slips, no twisted falls. Done properly — with warm-up, good form, and adequate rest — hangboarding is more predictable and less risky than projecting a crimpy boulder at your limit.
3. Ten minutes is enough.
I used to think hangboarding required an hour of misery. Wrong. A simple repeater protocol (7 sec on, 3 sec off, 6 reps, 3–5 sets) takes 15–20 minutes. Two sessions a week. That is less time than scrolling Instagram. And it will change your climbing more than any "climb more" advice ever will.
The regret that stings the most
The worst part is not the lost grades. The worst part is this:
I spent years avoiding the climbing hang board because I was scared of injury. And then I got injured anyway — from climbing. A pulled pulley. Tennis elbow. Both from chaotic, uncontrolled movements on the wall.
If I had started hangboarding earlier — just two short sessions a week, with discipline and humility — my fingers would have been stronger. My elbows would have been more stable. And those injuries might never have happened.
That is what regret feels like. Knowing that you had the tool to prevent something, and you chose not to use it.
But it is not too late for you
If you are climbing V3, V4, or V5 and you feel stuck — do not wait five years like I did.
Buy a simple wooden hang board. A 20mm edge is all you need. Mount it somewhere safe. Watch a five-minute tutorial on half-crimp and open-hand grip. Start with both feet on the ground, just pulling gently. Progress slowly. Rest plenty.
You do not need to become a "hanging board bro." You do not need to add weights. You just need to give your fingers a reason to adapt.
The apology I wrote to myself
Every time I step up to my climbing hangboard now — a modest wooden edge screwed into a steel rack — I feel two things.
First, a twinge of regret: Why didn't I start this earlier? How many sends did I miss? How many seasons did I waste?
Then, gratitude: Thank you for finally starting. Thank you for swallowing your ego. Thank you for doing the boring work so the fun work — climbing real rock — feels effortless.
Regret is a terrible companion. But it is also a great teacher.
Final words
I cannot go back and tell my 25-year-old self to buy a hangboard. I cannot undo those two stagnant years. But I can tell you.
So here it is, plain and honest:
Do not be me. Do not wait until you are injured, frustrated, and embarrassed by your own plateau. Get a hangboard. Use it wisely. Start today.
You will thank yourself later. And you will avoid the one thing I cannot escape: regret.
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This is not a sales pitch. This is a confession. And if you listen to it, you just might save yourself two years of spinning your wheels.