Who Is @sleepeatclimbrepeat?
In the vibrant atmosphere of a climbing gym, a heavyset, middle-aged man confronts a boulder bursting with colorful holds. Despite the problem being merely V1, his precise footwork betrays a seasoned familiarity with the sport, marking him as no amateur. But each movement, while skilled, is also measured and deliberate, hinting at the extra challenge his weight presents.
Climbing media has, historically, been pretty predictable fare: sketchy routes up giant faces in Yosemite, suffering alpinists on snow-capped Patagonian peaks, and imposing blocs in Fontainebleau. Though inspiring, for some of us, it feels unrealistic to dream of these iconic destinations—sort of like the kid who dreams of being an astronaut, or a Hollywood star.
Lately, however, more and more “average Joes” are posting about their climbing journeys. Jeremy Arntz was the first time I saw the mold being broken. One boring afternoon in April 2020, as I sat in the same worn spot on the couch, doom-scrolling Instagram, its almighty algorithm suggested a climbing video from someone I didn’t follow. The video offered some brief reprieve from the litany of sourdough recipes and COVID news, so I greedily clicked on @sleepeatclimbrepeat’s post, finding, to my surprise, a heavyset, middle-aged man climbing an indoor V1/2. It was a slabby boulder, about ten feet high, with thin blue holds. He bailed just before the top. In his caption he lamented that he could have completed it, but the boulder was only a few feet away from where he had previously broken an ankle. He acknowledged that the traumatic setting had impacted his performance. But he ended the caption on a positive note, dedicating the new year to trying hard and fighting demons.
I clicked on the climber’s profile to discover that he had over 13,000 followers (now nearing 15,000), including accounts like Daniel Woods, Kyra Condie, and Black Diamond, all interested in what he had to say.
My brain short-circuited. He wasn’t a cutting-edge boulderer, or putting up first ascents overseas. He was projecting V1 gym climbs. He was ordinary, and that resonated with me—along with 13,000 other folks. It wasn’t the same photos and videos of Freerider, Cerro Torre, and Soudain Seul; here was just a regular guy.
Jeremy Arntz first learned of climbing while attending college in Michigan. He was playing disc golf, and one of the holes passed beneath a crag full of climbers. “It seemed very confusing,” he tells me, “with the ropes and harnesses and everything, but that was also the very interesting part. … It was like some secret that people knew; how to set protection and tie the knots and climb.”
I sat down with Jeremy on a warm afternoon last autumn in Austin, Texas, to film a short character profile. I interviewed him in his garage-turned-gym; me tucked behind a tripod, him in front of his woody—a pandemic project—one that I had seen in many of his climbing videos while we were deep in the middle of COVID, but rarely saw anymore use since gyms reopened.
When Jeremy first started climbing, he fell in love with the sport for the same reason many of us do: the unique blend of physical and mental engagement. The intricate problem-solving aspect of bouldering engrossed his mind, providing a welcome respite from the stresses of daily life. This combination of physical exertion and mental clarity is what made climbing an essential part of Jeremy’s routine for maintaining a balanced lifestyle.
Yet, it was a particular facet of climbing that truly captured Jeremy’s attention: the world of climbing media. He noticed that most climbing social media was produced primarily by younger, fit guys posting to Instagram. He thought climbing media, whether on Instagram, in print, or on TV screens, had a representation problem. He felt compelled to initiate change and so, armed with his GoPro, he set out to make a difference. Jeremy began documenting his bouldering attempts at the local climbing gym and posted the videos to his account. Jeremy’s account began to grow about a year into his project, when large accounts like Organic Climbing started resharing his posts.
“I figured that by sharing my journey in climbing as a heavier, 41-year-old person … if I inspired one person to start climbing, then it was worth sharing and worth exposing myself to the criticism and trolls.”
“Would you recommend that other people share their journey too?” I ask him.
“I watch the Reel Rock movies and I always think they’re cool, but I’d rather watch the story of a single mom or dad who has a full-time job and is taking care of their kid, but is still doing everything they can to climb hard. That’s way more relatable to me than someone doing some crazy feat in some far-off country.”
Jeremy enjoyed developing his Instagram following at first and valued the connections he was building around the country. But going climbing and posting to social media soon became irrevocably linked. “There were definitely times when I went climbing just because I knew I had to create content.” Jeremy considers his words carefully before continuing: “I’ve made a lot of friends on Instagram now—people I’ve been friends with for years. So if I want to take a break from social media it means taking a break from my friends, which is tough.”
Jeremy’s engagement with social media is made more complex by the frequent negative remarks he encounters. These comments often focus on his physique, with some suggesting he refrain from climbing until he loses weight, while others insinuate a food addiction. He acknowledges that putting himself out there in the online world will invariably attract internet trolls. However, he also tells me about navigating these situations. He’s not afraid to call out the trolls, sharing and replying directly to their comments, while striving to maintain a positive mindset.
When I first began following Jeremy, he had a goal of climbing V5 by the time he turned 45. But after suffering a broken ankle at age 43, he realized that the goal might not be attainable anymore. The ankle was so painful that, if he wasn’t working at his day job as a software engineer, he had to be in bed resting. He grew depressed and began to put on weight that he had previously lost.
“Climbing’s been different for me since my injury,” he says. “I’ve been paranoid ever since. It’s so much easier for me to reinjure myself now.”
“So do you have any current goals?” I ask him.
“I just turned 47 and 50 is right around the corner. I want to set myself up to be mobile longer in life. That’s my new goal. Work out more, get back into climbing more, and not worry about pushing myself too much when I am climbing.
“Obviously, I want to continue to lose weight, but I’m not focused on the number this time. Before my injury, I’d set these goals and become obsessed. I’d more or less starve myself or work out too hard just to get to the number. Now, I just want to get in better shape by the time I’m 50 and develop healthy habits for the rest of my life.”
After I interviewed Jeremy, I began the four-hour trek home. While I traveled through the Texas countryside, I realized how surreal it was to have met this guy that I previously only knew via Instagram. While it was discouraging to hear about the hardships of being a climbing “influencer,” I couldn’t help but leave with a sense of optimism.
“Everyone’s out here just trying,” he says, “we need to give people credit for that.”
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