When I was about 2 years old, my father was holding me over his head as he walked down the stairs in our house. I liked being held up high. It made me laugh. Unfortunately, that would soon change. He tripped as he came down, and though I landed quite harmlessly on his stomach, things were never quite the same after that. My eyes would open wide when held me up high, my little hands would clutch onto his wrists in fear. I was officially afraid of heights.

So some 20 years later, I was wondering what the hell I was doing about two-thirds of the way up the 42-foot-high rock climbing wall at the Student Recreation Fitness Center, sweaty hands holding on for dear life as I looked for a foothold to continue boosting myself upwards, away from the ground and toward a cowbell hanging above me.

“You’re doing good, just move your foot over to the left a bit,” yells Mike Draper, Milwaukee sophomore. Draper is down below holding my lifeline, a rope with one end connected to me and the other connected to him. The rope is looped through a pulley at the top of the wall. If I fall, his weight would act as an anchor to keep me from plummeting to the ground. In rock climbing lingo, Draper is known as the belayer.

I turn around to look down at him. Oh boy, that was a mistake. It’s a lot higher looking down than up. Right before I began the climb, I had asked Draper if anyone had ever fallen off the wall and he gave me the answer I had hoped to hear. No one had. Unfortunately, he and a friend went on to discuss other rock climbing experiences at other walls where Draper himself had taken a 25-foot plunge before the rope tightened up and kept him from hitting the ground. This thought weighs heavily on my mind as I come within arm’s length of the cowbell.

All it would take is one good reach... There, I made it! I hit the bell with a fist and sighed with relief. “All right,” Draper yells from below. “Just let go of the wall.”

I swivel my head around and find myself at eye-level with a girl on a treadmill across the lobby on the second floor balcony. I look down again. “Are you sure?” My voice echoes. The last thing I want to do is let go of the wall, but I do, and after dangling there for a few seconds, I slowly begin descending into the hole that is the rock climbing center ground floor.

“You made that look too easy,” Draper says when I get to the bottom. True, I had been up and back down in just a few minutes, but my arms are tired and my heart is racing. I am ready to take a break before trying one of the other seven routes on the wall, having just completed the easiest one.

Luckily, there are plenty of other students waiting to take my place. Lindsay Walters, American Falls, Idaho, graduate student, is one of them. Unlike me, she loves heights and has been rock climbing on and off for a few years. “It’s relaxing,” she says. “When you’re hanging 30 feet in the air, you can’t worry about all the other crap in your life.” I’d agree with half of that statement.

Besides the 42-foot-high wall, there is a few smaller 8-foot-high walls in the room. Climbing on these walls is known as bouldering. It looks easier than climbing the high wall, but looks can be deceiving. These walls actually have handgrips placed in more difficult-to-reach places, requiring great strength and reach to climb horizontally from one end to the other. Draper likens the difference between the rock wall and bouldering to running the mile versus the 100-meter dash: One requires endurance, while the other requires bursts of energy. I see one guy hanging nearly upside down on the bouldering wall, and I ask him what he is doing there.

“Well, I feel like it’s a nice shift,” says Tyler Lau, Lawrence freshman. “I used to train only my lower body for cycling, and I feel like this is a really good upper-body workout. It’s like a challenging adventure.”

It looks like it’s my turn on the big wall again. It’s time for challenging adventure number two. I opt for the second-easiest route, although it doesn’t look too easy with a huge ridge jutting out about 2 feet from the previously flat surface of the wall. Utilizing my new rock climbing skills and confidence, I make it the 20 or so feet up to the ridge and stop. There is nowhere left to go; the stupid ridge is blocking my progress. My hands are slippery, my arms are tired. I can barely hold on to the wall anymore. I let go of the wall. “Let me down,” I yelled to the belayer below. I’d have to come back some other time and try it again.

That shouldn’t be too hard because the wall is open from 4:30 p.m. to 8:30 p.m. Monday through Thursday, and is completely free to use. Additionally, members of the Rock Climbing Club can use it from 8:30 p.m. to 10:30 p.m. Tuesday and Thursday after paying a $40 registration fee. They also get to participate in all sorts of prepaid camping trips where they climb on real outdoor rocks.

For now, I’ll stick to the indoor variety. As I got ready to head out the door, Draper encourages me to come back anytime. “Bring your friends,” he says. “Anyone is welcome.”