I went indoor-climbing last night for the first time in over a year. Right now my arms hurt so much that I’d rather not have them. It’s not like they’re doing me much good just now anyway - my hands are largely incapable of closing and the opposable thumb seems like a dim and distant dream.
I did learn a few lessons last night, about climbing and about the way my mind works. When I arrived at the centre and approached the first wall, I realised that I had no idea how the equipment worked. I couldn’t remember how to tie myself on, and I couldn’t remember how to set up the belay end of the rope. That information had completely fallen out of my head. I’ve done it a thousand time but … I still couldn’t quite recall how to do it.
The bit I found most surprising is that I was sure I knew how, I was sure I’d forgotten nothing at all; right up until the point when I tried to do it. There’s a lesson there for all software architects (me included) - if you don’t write software regularly you will forget things about the process. Not only that, but you won’t know what you’ve forgotten. If you forget enough about the process you’re no longer an asset to your company. You’re just a guy who’s telling people how to belay, and keep other people alive, who can’t actually belay. Don’t be that guy.
My second lesson is about trust. I climb with my wife and my best friend. These are people I trust implicitly. I’d also given my equipment a thorough check over before I went out, so I was sure it was working fine. Even with that, I was terrified on my first few assents. Now, I don’t like heights, I hate them in fact. In the dictionary, under acrophobia it has a picture of me .. screaming whilst standing on a shoe-box. But I’d got over it whilst climbing, a year ago I could climb freely without fear. Now I was sweating and panting and wearing out my arms clinging onto the wall for dear, sweet life. Why?
To me, it seems that there are things that come naturally to us, and things that don’t. For me, being off the ground is not natural. By working at it, I got to a point where I was no longer afraid, then I began to enjoy it. At the same time it was good exercise that was helping me get a little bit fitter each time I went. When I stopped going, my confidence and trust in what I had learned started to erode and my natural fears and distrust started to come to the surface again. When we don’t practice something, we not only loose our understanding of it, we can start to believe things that are actively not true. Yes, brother architect, I’m talking to you again. Ever wondered why so many companies are lumbered with crappy products that the group architect purchased? Because they were out of touch, and began to believe the easy lies of silver-bullet vendors. They believed in the things that appealed to their core nature rather than the hard-won truths they’d struggled so hard to find.
When we don’t keep our skills sharp, we forget things. When we don’t practice our craft, we believe things that aren’t true.
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