(cache)Surprising Things I’ve Learned From Dating a Pro Climber

Published May 20, 2025 08:28AM

I’m in a small cave in the middle of nowhere surrounded by three professional climbers who all climb 5.15. I’m pumped and panicking halfway up a run-out 5.10, the only route at the crag I feel comfortable leading. As the pro climber who bolted the route walks over to cheer me on, I think to myself: How did I get in this situation? Then I remember the answer: It’s all Jesse Grupper’s fault.

When I started dating Jesse in 2019, I had just begun grad school in Boston and liked to casually climb V4s and 5.11s with friends. I had no idea what a pro climber was, the only World Cup I’d ever watched was the FIFA women’s soccer tournament, and climbing wasn’t even an Olympic sport yet.

Little did I know, six-and-a-half years later, I would not only have a PhD in biology, but would also have belayed Jesse on 5.15s, traveled to Europe to watch him win World Cups, and hugged him in Paris after he became an Olympian.

Dating Jesse during his rise as a professional climber tested me both as a climber and as a partner. But many of the things I’ve learned as Jesse’s partner aren’t only relevant to people dating pros—they apply to many types of climbing relationships and partnerships.

I’ve discovered a lot about how to climb with someone who climbs at a very different grade or intensity than you, as well as how to support a partner through a difficult project. I’ve also picked up on some habits of professional climbers that all of us casual climbers could learn from.

You don’t have to climb a certain grade to “be a climber.”

Before dating Jesse, I had been climbing for about three years, mostly with people who climbed at a very similar level to me. But once I started climbing outside with Jesse, I was thrust into a very different environment. Many of the places I used to climb didn’t have anything hard enough for Jesse to work on. I was often the worst climber at the crags we went to, left to project the climb that all the 5.14 climbers used as a warm-up. To be in a climbing area where I couldn’t get to the top of anything felt demoralizing and embarrassing, leading me to think that maybe I wasn’t even a climber after all.

Our solution we came up with was to split up our time, spending half the day somewhere I wanted to climb, and the other half somewhere Jesse wanted to climb. In the beginning, I really struggled with this dynamic because I felt that since Jesse was pursuing climbing as a career, we should prioritize him. Jesse was projecting harder climbs, so I wanted to make sure he had the right amount of time, the best weather conditions, and plenty of daylight to warm up and work on his projects. This left me feeling rushed to get through my climbs—an extra pressure that made me perform worse and feel frustrated when I wasn’t sending.

Of course, none of this was Jesse’s fault. He was incredibly patient, reassuring me that my climbing was important and I could take all the time I needed. The biggest change I had to make was in my own head. I had to embrace that I was, in fact, a “climber”—even if I only climbed 5.10. Even if I still got scared on lead. Even if I sometimes went to crags and couldn’t climb a single thing there. I had to accept that I belong outside just as much as all the people who climb harder than me. Only then could Jesse and I truly find our balance.

Defining expectations will make your climbing more fulfilling.

There was a lot of freedom for me in acknowledging that Jesse and I have an “uneven” climbing partnership—not because Jesse’s climbing is more important than mine, but because he climbs with more intensity, at higher grades, and more frequently. I like to go to the gym for two hours at a time, but his training sessions are usually at least four hours long. When we climb outside, I would be happy to leave in the afternoon and get home early to relax before work the next day. But Jesse wants to stay as long as possible, until we are forced out by freezing temperatures or darkness.

This contrast made me question whether or not I was taking climbing seriously enough. Should I be training longer in the gym? Should I be pushing myself harder on days outside? Am I dedicated enough to climbing? Am I doing climbing right?

Again, the answer to this dilemma wasn’t that I needed to change the way I climbed, but that I needed to take a closer look at my own relationship with climbing. I needed to stop and ask myself, “Why am I here?” I like climbing as a way to get stronger, explore the outdoors, and spend time with friends. Although Jesse also enjoys these aspects of climbing, his main priority is to push himself to become the best climber he can possibly be.

This distinction is important because what you want to get out of climbing should determine how you approach it. Jesse loves completely exhausting himself by getting on as many hard climbs as he can find and seeing how quickly and efficiently he can execute them. He likes being physically drained by the time the sun goes down. On the other hand, if I’m out there to have fun while climbing and enjoying nature, I don’t need to spend all my time on climbs that push me past my physical and mental limits.

You can get different things out of your time at the crag.

I’ve embraced the fact that sometimes I just want to climb casually, and I don’t need to try and keep up with Jesse. We have found ways to compromise. Jesse recently gifted me a really nice pair of binoculars that I bring along to watch for birds. He always packs extra snacks for when I inevitably get hangry and say we need to leave because I ran out of food. I’ve started packing a book and a chair so that when I get done climbing, and Jesse has hours left in him, I can spend time relaxing while still supporting his climbing.

To remind ourselves that it’s okay for us to both do what we want, we often say, “You’re on your vacation, and I’m on my vacation.” My vacation is laying in the sun on a rock eating fruit snacks, and Jesse’s vacation is grabbing as much rock as possible.

Supporting a pro athlete can be a hard, yet rewarding, full-time job.

As Jesse started gaining success on the World Cup circuit, it was an exciting time, but not necessarily a relaxing one. I couldn’t physically be with him for many of his competitions because I can’t conduct biology experiments remotely.

So, I had to get creative with ways to be his support system. I always sent him off with a lucky charm—a cucumber charm necklace to wear while he climbed or a stuffed squirrel to keep him company in his hotel room. With time differences ranging from six to 14 hours, I was up at odd hours of the night to talk to him on the phone before and after his competitions. Qualification rounds aren’t livestreamed but I would open the results on my phone and refresh the app continuously to keep track of his scores. When he made semis or finals, I would stay up to watch no matter the time, texting him thoughts and support that he’d see once he got off the wall.

Your partner’s success is your success.

The beauty in working so hard to support someone and be a part of their journey is that their successes start to feel like your successes. I started to feel superstitiously connected to Jesse while he was competing. Imagining that as I watched him, he could hear me cheering or sense whether I felt confident or stressed. I like to think that it’s not a coincidence that he won his first gold medal at a competition I attended with him.

In 2022, I went to Briançon to watch Jesse compete in a World Cup in person for the first time. I rented out the attic in the house of a nice French woman who spoke no English. We communicated in charades and shared a beer on the porch while Jesse was out at team dinners.

In between semifinals and finals, Jesse and I walked up the hill from the venue back to our little loft. He took a nap as the mountain breeze blew in through the window while I meal-prepped him food to take with him into isolation later that night. Once he was up, we walked to the competition together, I threw ice down his shirt to cool him down whether he liked it or not, we kissed goodbye, and I anxiously waited in the venue for two hours for the finals to start. Later that night, when he lowered off the wall in first place, I really felt like we had accomplished something together.

Just as I believe I’ve been an important part of Jesse’s climbing career, he has been a pivotal part of my science career. There were so many nights when I ran off to the lab and he stayed at my apartment to cook me dinner. Weekends where he was back in Boston between comps and he’d come with me to the lab so that we could spend time together even though I had to work. As I presented my PhD defense in December of 2024, I looked out at Jesse in the crowd and knew he felt the same way I had when I watched him qualify for the Olympics in Santiago.

We know we couldn’t have accomplished as much as we have without each other. We often joke that I’m 20% an Olympian and he has 20% of a PhD in Biology. Supporting a partner in the pursuit of their goals can be just as meaningful as working towards your own goals.

Habits of pro climbers we should all be stealing

Jesse’s love of climbing is contagious and I wanted to learn his training secrets and apply them to my own climbing. Unfortunately, being in grad school restricted the amount of time I could dedicate to climbing, and I was worried I wouldn’t be able to emulate Jesse’s strategies. Luckily, I was wrong. Jesse has taught me many lessons over the years, and a lot of them are simpler than you might think.

Training doesn’t have to be fancy—it has to be consistent

The internet is so saturated with climbing workouts and training exercises that it can feel impossible to figure out which ones to focus on. One of the most important things I learned from Jesse is that it’s not so much what you do that matters, but that you do it consistently.

Jesse will pick a couple of things to work on, then he will do those exercises religiously for months (or years) at a time. Early on in our relationship, I noticed that he always stood on one foot while he brushed his teeth. He told me that in 2018, a South African physical therapist had off-handedly suggested this exercise while he was recovering from a knee injury, and he’d been doing it ever since.

Do yoga—any yoga

Another example is Jesse’s yoga, which I can take credit for getting him into even though he has since put many more hours into it than I have. He does 10 minutes of yoga every morning to stretch his tight muscles, get his blood flowing, and clear his head. You don’t need to know what yoga exercises he does, just that he will do it no matter what. He whips out his travel yoga mat in cramped hotel rooms, friends’ kitchens, gravel parking lots, and crowded airports. Even the simplest exercises, with enough discipline, can make a huge difference.

(Totally achievable) micro goals matter

Another one of my favorite tactics I learned from Jesse is to set “micro goals” for your gym sessions so that you can leave feeling accomplished, no matter how long you were there. The key to this strategy is to set a goal you can’t fail at.

For example, you can do a volume workout or pick a number of hard climbs you want to do, but with the caveat that three attempts on a climb counts as a send. So even if you don’t do as well on each climb as you expected, you’re still moving through your session and getting a good workout without getting stuck on any one climb.

Compete against yourself, not others

This is one of the most important mental strategies I’ve learned from Jesse. When he competes in World Cups, if he only focuses on his result in relation to the other competitors, then whether or not he feels successful is ultimately tied to how the other athletes climbed, not how he climbed. Instead, he finds it much more productive to evaluate his climbing in relation to his past self so that he can focus on areas where he is improving, and areas he wants to work on. Put simply, if you want to improve your own climbing, then you should focus on your own climbing.

Find a partner who supports you in being whatever kind of climber you want to be

Back on the 5.10 in the middle of nowhere with three pro climbers watching me: I downclimb to my last bolt and yell, “Take!” A few years ago, I might have been embarrassed to be struggling on a climb so easy that the other people at the crag don’t even use it as a warm-up. I might have felt like I didn’t belong at the crag, or didn’t even deserve to call myself a climber. I might have worried that the differences in Jesse and I’s climbing skills would make it difficult for us to climb together.

But today, I look down and see Jesse smiling up at me. I realize that even though I’m not climbing at my best, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been while climbing. I’ve embraced identifying myself as a climber, even when I’m the weakest one at the crag. I’ve defined my own goals and expectations in climbing and don’t feel pressure to climb in the same way or for the same reasons as others. I’ve built a relationship with Jesse that embraces our differences and uses them to strengthen our climbing relationship rather than detract from it.

In the end, the most surprising thing I learned from dating a pro climber is that it doesn’t actually matter if you and your partner climb in very different ways or have different goals. All that matters is that you understand your partner’s goals and care about them as much as your own.

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