UNLV Connections: Word from the Interactive Measurement Group

Truly Try

by Kimberly A. Barchard

“When you choose an action, you choose the consequences of that action. When you [desire] a consequence you had damned well better take the action that would create it.”
— Lois McMaster Bujold

A top-down view of a man with short black hair in a red t-shirt, climbing a mountain with his arm and hand outstretched toward the camera. The word 'Dynamic' is overlaid in the top left-hand corner. Many of my goals are difficult. To make them more than wishful thinking, to have any chance of success, I have to truly try. I realized this when I was rock climbing.

Climbers distinguish between two kinds of moves. In static maneuvers, you always have three points of contact with the rock: two hands and one foot, or two feet and one hand. Static maneuvers require balance, flexibility, and precision. In contrast, a dynamic maneuver (or “dyno”) occurs when you move explosively from one position to another by letting go of one hold before you have grabbed the next. You might have two, three, or all four limbs off the wall. If you fail to connect with the new hold, you fall. Dynos require athleticism and coordination, but they also require strength: arm strength, leg strength, and core strength.

I liked static maneuvers. I wore tight shoes so I could stand on small chips and kept my nails short so they wouldn’t get in the way. I enjoyed balance games where I slowly shifted my weight from one position to the other. I was good at them. On the other hand, to get better at climbing – or at anything – it’s better to ameliorate your weaknesses than to hone your strengths. So, I eventually signed up for a course, where we did strength training games and crunches. And – at least when I was at the gym – I climbed routes that required dynos.

A close-up of a mountain-climber's foot, wearing a grey shoe, stepping in a divot on a mountain. A close-up of two hands grasping a climbing hold on an artificial rock wall. A woman wearing a white tank top and orange yoga pants, sitting on a black yoga mat. Her elbows and knees are bent, and her hands are touching the sides of her head.

I particularly remember this one route, where I had to crouch down on my two footholds, then explosively propel myself upward, leaping as high as I could, aiming for a hold with my right hand. That hold was out of reach, and so I had to fling myself upwards, both feet coming off the wall. If I was able to lock on to the handhold, I could scramble with my legs on the wall until I got them up to the next footholds. If I didn’t lock onto that handhold, I would fly through the air, with my harness grabbing me and swinging me back and forth in front of the wall.

A woman with long, wavy dirty blonde hair wearing a light blue tank top and matching light blue and grey yoga pants, climbing an artificial rock climbing wall. Both of her hands are gripping climbing holds above her head, and her leg is stretched out towards a hold to the left. For weeks, every time I went climbing, I tried this route. I grabbed that handhold once, on maybe my second attempt, but after that, I always missed. My fingertips would brush the hold, but I wouldn’t get a grip. After a couple of weeks of this – trying the route each time I went to the gym, touching the hold but not grabbing it – I realized what was going wrong. I wasn’t really trying. I was saying I was trying. I was telling others I was trying. I was telling myself I was trying. But I wasn’t really trying.

To grab that hold, I needed to get my fingers a bit higher. I needed to bend my fingers so they would wrap over the top of the hold. I needed to tense my fingers and hand so they would grip the rock. But I wasn’t doing that. I was just throwing my hand in the direction of the hold, tapping it with my hand, and then falling. Touching that hold was hard. But it wasn’t enough.

A hand gripping a climbing hold on an artificial rock wall. After that realization, I decided I would really try. I approached that route with determination and focus. And when it came time for the dyno, I launched myself with purpose, aimed my arm and fingers, and I sometimes succeeded.

It was a hard maneuver. When I really tried, I only succeeded sometimes. But when I didn’t try, when I only pretended to try, I never succeeded and would never succeed.

I’ve applied this lesson to all parts of my life. If I wanted a PhD or a promotion, what did I need to do? If I wanted to feel healthy and energetic? If I wanted a well-behaved dog? Many of my goals are difficult so that success is not guaranteed. If I want a good chance of success – or any chance of success – I need to truly try.

Sometimes, I notice I’m not really trying. For example, I may have said I wanted to do a certain research project or complete a certain analysis, but I notice I haven’t made any progress after several weeks. I wasn’t really trying. When that happens, I re-evaluate my goals. If I again decide I really want to accomplish that goal, I remind myself I should not just move in the direction of the goal, but truly try. I decide what I need to do and fling myself into it as hard as I can.

To learn more about truly trying, see my WPA 2023 presentation on Becoming Yourself.

A headshot of Kim, a woman with short brown hair. Kimberly A. Barchard is a Professor in the Department of Psychology at UNLV and is the Director of the Interactive Measurement Group. She works to empower lab members to accomplish their personal and professional goals, particularly through the development of leadership, research, and organizational skills.