World's Greatest Climber: If I Had One Last Climb It Would Be...

Honnold refutes the idea that he doesn't experience fear, stating that his lower amygdala response in brain scans is due to 20 years of constant exposure and conditioning to scary situations, not a unique neurological difference. He emphasizes that climbing is fundamentally scary, and continuous exposure leads to better fear management.

He states, 'after 20 years of climbing 5 days a week and being really freaking scared, I respond differently than an average person.' He also clarifies the fMRI results: 'this is basically just showing that after 20 years of conditioning I respond differently than an average person.'

His father's unexpected death at 55 served as a stark reminder of his own mortality. This realization led him to prioritize living a life he's proud of, taking calculated and chosen risks, rather than passively accepting unchosen risks or living without pursuing his passions.

Honnold says, 'I think that that reminder of my own mortality has had a big impact on my career, my life, you know, my climbing world.' He adds, 'you're better off dying at 55 in an accident, but having done many things that you're proud of... than dying at 78 and still wishing you had more, but having done none of the things you wanted to do.'

Honnold's career graph shows a long period of minimal financial or public success (ages 18-30), followed by sudden, exponential jumps after major achievements like 'Free Solo' and the Taipei 101 climb. This reflects a 'winner-take-all' economy where being 'the dude that does the thing' dramatically increases earnings after years of dedicated, unmonetized effort.

He draws a graph showing 'nothing, slow a little bit and then like thisish' for ages 18-29, followed by a 'jump a ton' with 'Free Solo' and another 'jump a ton because of the building thing again.' He explains, 'the world really it's like a winner take all economy type deal. It's like basically if you're the dude that does the thing, all of a sudden your earnings go insane.'

Tackling monumental climbs like El Capitan or Taipei 101 involves years of deconstructing the challenge into smaller, manageable pieces. Each segment is practiced with ropes, notes are taken, and transitions are understood, making the seemingly impossible achievable through systematic preparation and repeated effort.

Describing Taipei 101, he says, 'I basically checked out all the different pieces... you just go piece by piece all the way up the whole thing.' For El Capitan, 'you go from just trying to get up it to trying to get up it faster to trying to get up it with just your hands and feet... over a bunch of seasons, you know, I climbed a cap like 60 times.'