"One Good Thing"

I judge the quality of every gym session.
It’s part of my A-type mindset—every day matters, and every session needs to move me forward as a climber.

Of course, not every session is monumental. But I always walk away with one good takeaway.

That’s the rule.

I look for it early—“one good thing.” I look for something that I can take away from the session so that I don't have to keep looking, and I can write off the session as successful 10% of the way into it. It keeps me positive.

Sometimes, it’s tiny: committing to a scary move, sequencing a move correctly. Other times, it’s a deeper insight, like understanding how to trust my feet on slab.

Nobody told me to do this. It just happened one day.
But I think it comes from deliberate practice—the idea that training should be thoughtful, not mindless.
The goal is to go home at the end of the day with stronger skills than I woke up with in the morning.

That mindset has scaled up to my whole season.

This past weekend, Zach and I competed at a North American Cup (NAC) held at none other than our home gym, Rose Bloc, here in Montreal. There are three stops for bouldering in an NAC season, and Montreal is the second, and only Canadian stop.

I've competed in a few other competitions this season, but they were all local and I wasn't into that tapering window. This NAC, though local, was an international competition that took place less than two weeks before my next event, the Brazil World Cup. So this, to me, was the true start of the season.

Just like with my sessions, I look for "one good thing" in every season. Day to day, that one thing keeps me positive. Season to season, that one thing proves my training is working.

I want to know that what I'm doing every day at the gym is amounting to a better, more skilled climber come competition season, so when the season begins, we're looking hard for it.

Every year, the ask gets bigger. Setting a higher bar means training harder to clear it.

As the World Cup season unfolds, there are big successes, but there are also quiet failures. When they all come together over three months, it's often hard to celebrate those wins when the feeling of disappointment is in the mix.

That's where "one good thing" comes in handy.

We look for it early, and we carry the positivity for the rest of the season. Even more, we take some pressure off.

In 2022, I made my first World Cup semi-final at the first competition of the season. It was a clear-cut, really good thing. Weeks later, I sprained my ankle and effectively ruined the rest of my season, but I still look back at that one thing with pride. It was a huge step up for me, and the rest of the season was just gravy.

In 2023, I placed second at a major international event before the season even began. That was the one good thing.

In 2024, I finished one spot out of finals at the first World Cup of the season in China. The one good thing.

And now, 2025. I’ve just won the Montreal North American Cup, right in my backyard.

These things aren’t always the highlights of the season, but they set the tone. They become the compass for the year.

And this year, I’ve already stepped into new territory. No matter what happens, I've achieved something that I haven't done before, entered new territory.

As I write this, I’m five days away from my flight to Curitiba, Brazil. My first World Cup of the year.

But I've already ticked off the most important box.

The pressure of wondering if I've improved over the off-season is gone.

Now the goal is simpler: climb well, stay present, and see how far this version of me can go.