The option of falling disappeared two moves ago. My brain knows it must adapt right now. The small crimp exhausting my right hand’s fingers transforms into the largest jug my eyes have ever seen. The slight nub my left foot presses against becomes a giant ledge I could stand on forever. The slopey pinch for my left hand now resembles the gripping of a door handle. And that dino move to the finish? That just became a static waltz to the top. It’s not my muscles that led me to the summit of this highball—It was the power pushing my mind.