Taking the Path of Greatest Resistance
By Seth LaFlamme
Chiropractic student Amy Haas, Ph.D., is “outdoorsy.” She rides a mountain bike (named Siren), a kayak (named Sunshine), goes camping, takes lots of road trips, goes caving and, oh, she rock climbs. In fact, you might say her whole life is about finding the path of greatest resistance.
Amy designs courses for a local rock climbing gym, moonlights from her demanding life as a student here at Life University working at REI sports, and has climbed sheer rock faces all over the country. “I have had the pleasure to climb some of the States’ best climbing destinations such as Yosemite, Red Rocks, the Red River Gorge, El Dorado and Boulder Canyon in Colorado, Joshua Tree, the Fisher Towers in Utah, the Shawangunks (‘Gunks, we call it), Cathedral Ledge, Rumney, Whitehorse, Cannon, Looking Glass, Tennessee Wall and many others,” Haas says.
In addition to climbing, Haas has also tried “deep water soloing,” which, in layperson’s terms, is climbing up a cliff out of a deep body of water and then pushing off and falling into the water 20, 50 or however many feet below.
Scary moments? Amy says that it is not always possible to place equipment to ensure one’s safety on a climb. She remembers one in particular at Linda’s Crack at Lost Wall in Georgia: “There was a place where I couldn’t ensure my safety if I fell. I just had to go for it and trust that my climbing skills were enough to keep me safe. It was one of those situations where you just have to do it…and I did it, and put in some more gear to make sure I was safe.” There was also one time at the ‘Gunks in Mohonk reserve in New Paltz, New York, when it was wet, and she slipped. Her safety gear caught her, and despite being shaken, “you kind of have to man up, and suck it up at that point, and keep going.”
So why rock climbing? According to Haas, it was her Millennium (New Year’s) resolution; made largely because she was afraid of heights.
What keeps her climbing? “I crave that moment of clarity when I am 100 feet off the deck, hanging on warm rock in the sun, trailing a rope behind me, focused only on what my next move is and where I should place safety gear on the rock. I have only felt this sense of flow in a few things; first, while mountain biking; then, while climbing; and now, while analyzing and adjusting someone’s spine.”
Amy’s path to earning her DC degree (she graduates in a matter of weeks, and had put her license application in the mail moments before interviewing for this story) largely mirrors and parallels her love of the outdoors and her refusal to shy away from tough challenges.
According to Ayn Rand, either you define your philosophy, or it will be defined for you. Amy’s early career path involved, in her words “the path of least resistance” for a smart person in New England: honors, advanced placement, research track, Harvard fast track postdoc fellowship, career in biotech or big pharma. The problem was that at the end of this road, her (pre)chosen career path was at odds with her values and ethics.
She discovered flagrant violations within the biotech firm she was developing proprietary technology for, and after nearly a year of trying to bring things in line, she realized “you can’t fight a tsunami with a garden hose.” She took a very generous severance package to keep her mouth shut, and to this day, she can’t even mention the company’s name.
It would be easy to view those events as a lost battle, or selling out, except for what happened next.
It was in ’04 when Amy hurt her back bending over wearing a huge climbing backpack, and carrying a load of laundry, and couldn’t walk a quarter mile without pain—never mind biking and climbing, all of which she continued to do anyway despite debilitating pain. It was in this roundabout way that one true passion introduced her to another: After failing to find help with the medical route and facing probable surgery, Amy was convinced by a friend to go the “quack,” Dr. Franson, DC, in Beverly, Massachusetts.
In a couple of months, Amy was running a 5k with her mother, biking and climbing—all without pain. She also got healthier, and it was at a bar in Davis Square in Somerville waiting for a blind date that she thought, why not? It was a tough leap, but at that moment, Amy defined her philosophy, and it was not long thereafter that she was enrolled at Life University. The blind date had made a love connection but not, perhaps, in the usual way.
One of Haas’s fondest memories is of taking a break from grad school, road-tripping through the desert southwest, waking up in the morning, sticking her head out of tent, and saying, “Wow, this is beautiful…where am I gonna go play today?” The freedom to explore Amy found on that trip represented an ideal life to her. In many ways, it is a trip she’s still on—doing what she wants to do, and viewing each day through the eyes of curiosity and a philosophy she has defined for herself.
