Monthly Archives: October 2026

The Road to 300: A Lifetime of 5.13s

Somewhere along the way, I started thinking about climbing 300 routes graded 5.13.

The idea was inspired by European climber Cathy Wagner, whose climbing longevity and dedication to the sport made me think about what it means to keep climbing hard over the course of a lifetime. Not just for a season or a few years, but for decades.

I’ve been climbing for 30 years now, and while my relationship with the sport has changed and evolved, the desire to climb, to challenge myself, and to discover what’s possible remains.

So I set a goal: 300 routes graded 5.13.

At the moment, my tick list stands at 214.

That leaves 86 to go.

This Year of 5.13s

Over the past year, I’ve added ten 5.13s to the list:

  • Six 5.13a
  • Three 5.13b
  • One 5.13c

I like to think of these routes as my mini projects. They are climbs I can seek out between bigger objectives, sometimes requiring only a handful of attempts, sometimes a little more effort. They offer opportunities to try hard, experience new movement, and enjoy the satisfaction of figuring something out.

And while the goal of 300 is something I’m steadily working toward, it’s certainly not the only climbing ambition I have. There are still harder routes to pursue and bigger objectives to take on. Some of these are difficult boulder problems, others are alpine rock routes, or committing multipitch climbs on the walls of Yosemite. Each presents its own challenges and rewards, requiring different skills, preparation, and levels of commitment.

I like having both. The mini projects keep me engaged, motivated, and exploring different climbing areas, while the larger objectives continue to push me physically and mentally, demanding a different kind of patience, perseverance, and sometimes a willingness to venture into the unknown.

For me, the two complement each other. There’s something satisfying about having smaller goals to work toward while continuing to dream big.

Climbing Through the Years

At this point in my life, climbing is about much more than performance.

I’ve spent decades building a relationship with rock, with the natural world, and with the people I’ve shared these experiences with. I’ve climbed through different chapters of life, through changes in my body, shifting priorities, injuries, successes, and disappointments.

There was a time when I thought mostly about how hard I could climb. These days, I’m increasingly interested in how long I can continue to climb well, and how much I can continue to experience along the way.

That doesn’t mean I’ve lost the desire to push myself. It’s the opposite. I still love trying hard. I still love the process of figuring out difficult sequences, feeling stronger, and surprising myself with what I can do. I still have ambitious projects that demand significant time, energy, and commitment.

But I’ve also come to appreciate the smaller challenges that fill the spaces between those bigger pursuits. Sometimes a 5.13 is a project in itself. Other times, it’s simply a wonderful day out climbing. Both experiences have value.

Why 300?

Three hundred is an arbitrary number. There’s nothing magical about it. But I like the idea of a goal that stretches across years rather than weeks or months. Something that asks for consistency, adaptability, and a lasting commitment to the thing I love. And being that I live in the Eastern Sierra with a pretty hefty ticklist already of the 13s around it will bring me to obscure places, less traveled environs and trips into areas I’ve long considered going.

It’s not about collecting routes simply to reach a number. Each climb represents an experience, a place, a moment in time, and a small part of a much larger story. Maybe that’s what appeals to me most about this goal. It gives me another reason to keep exploring, to seek out new routes, revisit old climbing areas, and remain curious about what is still possible.

Meanwhile, the bigger dreams remain. There are still difficult routes to climb, new places to explore, and ambitious objectives that excite and intimidate me in equal measure. The pursuit of 300 5.13s doesn’t replace those goals. It simply runs alongside them, a collection of smaller adventures woven into the larger journey.

At 214, I have a ways to go. With two months left in 2026 I’ve got a few more queued up. I don’t know how long it will take to reach 300, or exactly what the journey will look like. But that’s part of the fun.

Eighty-six more “mini” projects, with plenty of bigger adventures along the way.


In two months, I’ll turn 47.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about aging, about my body, my muscles, my strength, and perhaps more importantly, my mind.
After nearly three decades of climbing, I find myself in an interesting place. I’m still strong. Still building muscle. Still pushing myself physically and discovering what my body is capable of. In some ways, I’m stronger and more capable than I’ve ever been.
But aging is an interesting thing. There’s the physical reality of it, the subtle changes in recovery, the aches and pains that seem to appear out of nowhere, the hormonal shifts, and the realization that maintaining strength requires a little more intention than it once did.


And then there’s the mental side.


The stories we tell ourselves about getting older. The expectations society places on women, particularly as we move through our 40s and beyond. The temptation to measure ourselves against a younger version of who we once were.
I’m learning that one of the greatest challenges of aging isn’t necessarily physical. It’s learning to let go of the idea that youth is the standard by which we should measure ourselves.


I don’t want to spend the second half of my life chasing the first.

I want to keep building strength, not out of fear of losing it, but because I love what this body allows me to experience. I want to remain curious, capable, resilient, and willing to try hard. I want to appreciate the muscles I’ve spent decades developing, the wisdom gained through experience, and the mental fortitude that comes from years of showing up.


Aging isn’t always graceful. Sometimes it’s frustrating, humbling, and uncomfortable. But it’s also a privilege.

At almost 47, I’m not interested in proving that age is just a number. Age is real. It changes us.
I’m interested in discovering just how much is still possible, while learning to embrace the person I’m becoming.