Lead climbing is scary climbing—not for everybody, but definitely for me. I’ve been eyeing the roof at Chelsea for some time now, knowing that I should really find the gumption to get on it. But there is always a reason not to.

Rex (who, bless his heart, had encouraged me to get on the roof a few days ago for a 5.10c climb) said today, “Are you getting on the roof?”

“I don’t know. I forgot my shoes at home today,” I said, as if that was a good excuse not to lead. “I’m borrowing Gail’s.”

He looked at me, and I realized I had WIMP written across my forehead. So, my mouth dry and my limbs shaky, I got on a 5.11something. I had to take many rests and fumbled around a lot, but I made some progress. Then I noticed that Gail was climbing along a route next to me. Gail is a Serious Climber (in all kinds of ways, but one bit of proof is that her feet are two sizes bigger than mine, but when I first put on her shoes they were so tight that I winced). She was being very supportive, and at one point we both took a rest at the lip of the roof and began gossiping about our partners. Even though I was freaked out by the climb, there was something delightful about having girl talk 36 feet off the ground.

Finally, I began to climb again. I didn’t get far before I groaned. “I’m gonna fall.”

“So you fall,” Gail said calmly.

And I did.