In last week’s post, High Five for Winter Training, I wrote about how I got to test drive my new strength and power at the crag. I was stoked to get back on the wall and really see what I could do. I was psyched for the season.

Then I got sick. An inconveniently timed chest cold put a damper on the first week with my new skills. While it seems  trivial now that I’m mostly better, in the moment this set-back was incredibly hard to accept.

I had planned for these next eight weeks of climbing seven months ago. I trained like a man possessed, and then … then I watched those plans come crashing down. But I accepted the situation quickly and focused all of my energy on the new goal, which was to get better. Actually, getting better was pretty easy this time (last year this same thing happened to me and I was in denial and kept climbing—it only prolonged the illness). It was liberating, really, only having one thing to do.

Everything that I was “supposed” to do became a distraction from this goal, so I immediately took everything off my schedule. Scrap the old plan, it’s old news, it’s no good anymore. Time to make a new plan.

Projecting is about overcoming obstacles, and shit happens—life happens. I learned this last year after some serious and unexpected blows changed my family life forever. And I learned it again last week when I was too sick to think straight.

You’ll spend months training, targeting a weather window or a specific route, and at any moment … BAM! Something happens, and your course is changed.

You’re frustrated or sad because you’re mourning the loss of an expected future that no longer exists. Buddha was right—it’s your attachment to a particular outcome that’s the root of your suffering.

But all is not lost.

You need to establish a sense of control, which is about identifying your options.

Sure, you’re screwed, but you still have choices. You can affirm life. Say, “Yes!” Set a new goal. Find a new path.

And so I did—I accepted that I was sick. I wanted to get better, so I focused all of my energy on taking steps that would get me healthy. And they weren’t big steps. For example, Step 1: Sleep all day.

You’re going to get tossed around, beaten down, busted, and broken. You may have it all, and then lose it all. You’re going to be up, and then down.

In a period of uncertainty, all you really want to know is this: Can I come back? Can I get better? Is it too late?

I say, it’s never too late!

If you accept your situation, and if you’re committed to the process—to the Art of Dogging (the climbing style and the metaphor), you’ll make a plan and come back stronger.