RC News #42: The Final World Cup of 2024

I like to write competition debriefs as soon after the events as possible to jot down my thoughts while they're fresh and to ride the media wave a bit. The Seoul World Cup was over a week ago, but I'm still gathering my thoughts (and getting over jet lag).

After the Prague World Cup, which was just twelve days earlier, I felt let down. Due to the Olympics, there was a gap of almost three months in the middle of the season with no events, giving me ample time to prepare for Prague, the first World Cup after the break. I entered the event with confidence but came out feeling at least three steps down.

Regardless of why I didn't perform as well as I expected, it was clear that I wasn't in the same form I had been at the beginning of the season, nearly six months ago. Honestly, with a season as long as this one, I don’t blame myself. So after Prague, I accepted my current state, recognized my performance for what it was, and learned everything I could from it.

But then there was Seoul. It's one thing to go into an event confident and ready to fight, with limitless possibilities of what could happen; it's another to know you have to scrape together whatever energy and motivation you have left to put up a halfway decent result. In South Korea, unfortunately, I was battling with the second scenario.

We trained between the World Cups in Japan, but I felt out of practice, heavy, and very jet-lagged. It had just turned to October, a month I never expected to be competing in a World Cup. I was tired from the season and more than ready to take some time off to refresh for next season.

But strangely enough, out of this headspace came something very powerful. Instead of obsessing over my result in Seoul and wanting semi-finals so badly that it dictated my movements and decisions, I chose to climb with joy.

Everyone knows that all you can do is try your best and have fun. You're told this hundreds of times. Whenever I’d go into a climbing competition, those were often the last words I’d hear from my parents before going into isolation. However, this advice quickly gets pushed down your mental priorities list during competition when there are other, more pressing things on your mind. For me, it’s always been about advancing to the next round or worrying about other people's scores. There are far more serious things to focus on, I'd think.

In Seoul, when I took semi-finals off the table, I inadvertently freed my mind of those "more important" thoughts and rearranged my mental hierarchy. All of a sudden, my focus shifted to trying my best and having fun. What's more, the results followed.

The round started well.

I topped the first boulder on my second attempt, which wasn't getting many tops. I didn't top the second boulder, which was getting a lot of tops, but I managed to get the zone. I topped the third boulder on my first attempt but didn't get the zone on the fourth boulder.

At this point, I was on the fifth boulder, feeling calm but aware. In the back of my mind, I knew that two tops usually aren’t enough for semi-finals. I was aware of this, but it didn't faze me. My round was already good. I could go home happy, knowing I did my absolute best and squeezed two more IFSC tops out of my season.

On boulder five, I flashed up to the last move but couldn't figure out how to launch for the finish hold. The time steadily went by as I kept trying to secure that last hold. Finally, with 25 seconds left and no top, I decided to give it one last go. After all, it was the last few seconds of the season—I might as well hop on the wall one last time.

I climbed confidently through the beginning sequence, which I had well-practiced by now. I eyed the finish hold as I heard the five-second countdown begin. With nothing to lose, I left my foot lower on this attempt and just went for it.

In the most surreal experience of my climbing career, I found myself staring at my two hands on the finish hold of the final boulder. I was amazed. I jumped down, filled with disbelief and pride. I looked at the judge and saw him hold up my score on the boulder: 1 top / 5 attempts. I turned to pick up my chalk bag and began walking off the stage, my eyes starting to tear up.

The season had been so long. I was so uncertain coming into this event. I had nothing left in the tank. And I just did that. I didn't care if I made semis or not. For once, that wasn't my first thought coming out of a qualification round. I was proud of what had just happened. The round, the season—everything.

I finished the round in 13th place with 3 tops and 4 zones. As qualifiers went on, I narrowly avoided getting bumped out of the semis, but I managed to hold on to the last position. I was elated to have the opportunity to climb again in the morning. Elated.

I had an incredible time during the semi-final round, improving my score and finishing 18th. I was fully immersed in the moment, focused on giving my best and enjoying every second. While I've had higher placements at World Cups, this experience truly ranks as one of my favorites, and that top on Qualifier 5 beautifully highlights why we do what we do.