Alex Honnold and Risk Taking

I find Alex Honnold’s free solo of Taipei 101 inspiring.

The public reaction to the stunt followed a predictable script: a binary of awe or condemnation. To the uninitiated, watching a 40-year-old scale 1,667 feet of glass and steel without a rope was a suicide mission. To the critics, it was an act of parental irresponsibility. But both perspectives fail to grasp the distinction between “risk” and “consequence”—and in doing so, they miss the most inspiring part of the feat.

The Spectacle vs. The Reality

There was an uncomfortable tension in Netflix’s Skyscraper Live broadcast. The production leanings—a panel of high-energy hosts and a 10-second broadcast delay—were designed to frame the climb as a frantic battle against gravity. This dramatization feeds a popular myth: that achievements like this are the result of “risk-taking” or “luck.”

But for a climber of Honnold’s caliber, Taipei 101 was less a vertical battlefield and more a predictable set of stairs. He had already climbed the route with ropes several times, memorizing every handhold. When every movement has been vetted, the probability of a fall is statistically minute. The danger wasn’t in the probability of the event, but in its finality.

The Myth of the “Risk-Taker”

We often label people like Honnold “risk-takers” as a defense mechanism. By categorizing him as someone who is simply “built different” or “comfortable with death,” we give ourselves permission to remain in our comfort zones. We tell ourselves that we don’t achieve great things because we aren’t “reckless” enough to take those bets.

The reality is the opposite. Honnold’s approach is not ruthless; it is meticulously conservative. As he noted in his memoir, Alone on the Wall:

If you don’t believe in God or an after-life, doesn’t that make this life all the more precious? I suppose so, but just because something is precious doesn’t mean you have to baby it.

The Third Option: Mastery Through Hard Work

If we accept that life is precious, we generally believe we have two options. The first is the conservative path: avoid all danger, stay in our comfort zones, but ultimately go nowhere. The second is the risky path: chase greatness through high-stakes gambles where failure is catastrophic.

Honnold’s ascent of Taipei 101 demonstrates a correct, often-ignored third option: the path of radical preparation. This path allows us to achieve great things without the “recklessness” of a gamble. Through decades of consistency, we can engineer the risk out of the equation. In this framework, we aren’t “taking a risk”; we are simply performing a task we have made ourselves capable of.

The “Underrated” Work

What is truly “underrated” in the conversation surrounding Skyscraper Live is the mundane hard work that preceded the 91-minute ascent. We are often more impressed by a “viral moment”—someone who stumbles into the spotlight through a stroke of luck—than by the master craftsman who spends thirty years perfecting a technique until they can perform it flawlessly under pressure. Honnold has shown that if life is precious, the greatest waste is to do nothing. But the answer isn't to be “risky.” The answer is to put in the work required to make the impossible mundane. The true source of inspiration isn’t that Honnold survived Taipei 101; it’s that he worked so hard that the most dangerous climb in the world felt, to him, like a morning walk.