Why I Wrote Throwing Hope

By Gord McArthur

For years, people have known me as the climber.  The guy who traveled the world, competed at World Cups, chased impossible routes, won championships, and built a life around adventure.

From the outside, it looked like I was living the dream.  In many ways, I was.

I've stood beneath frozen waterfalls in some of the most incredible places on earth. I've represented my country, climbed alongside athletes I once looked up to, and experienced moments that very few people ever will.  But that's only part of the story.

Because behind every summit were valleys no one could see.  Behind every victory were failures that broke me.  Behind every smile were seasons where I was carrying grief, trauma, doubt, and questions I didn't know how to answer.  There were moments in my life when I walked far too close to the edge.  Moments where I honestly didn't know if I had the strength to keep going.

A devastating injury at the World Championships changed more than my body. It challenged my identity, my self-worth.  When you rely on something that you've poured your life into, and it’s suddenly taken away, you're forced to ask difficult questions.

Who am I if I can't climb?

What do I still have to offer?

Can I ever become the person I was before?

The truth is...I couldn't.  Because life wasn't asking me to become who I used to be.  It was inviting me to become someone new.  That journey wasn't quick, and it certainly wasn't easy.  Healing didn't arrive in one dramatic moment. It arrived quietly.

It was found in movement.

The first climb.

The first workout.

The decision to move my body, even when my heart felt heavy.  Every small step reminded me that I was still here. Still breathing. Still capable of becoming something more than my pain.

And then came the reminders I never expected.  Conversations that arrived exactly when I needed them.  Stories that somehow found me through social media, speaking directly into seasons I didn't have the words to explain.  Friends who refused to let me disappear into the darkness.  People who believed in me long before I could believe in myself.

One of those constants has been Scarpa.

For so many years, Scarpa has been much more than a sponsor. They've been family.  They've celebrated the victories, stood beside me through injuries, watched me chase impossible dreams, and never disappeared when life became complicated. Their support was never based solely on results or podiums. It was rooted in something far more meaningful—belief.

Looking back, I realize how much that mattered.  When you're walking through darkness, sometimes hope doesn't come from inside you.  Sometimes it comes from the people who quietly remind you that your story isn't over.

I owe so much of my career—and so much of the person I've become—to the incredible people at Scarpa. Their loyalty and unwavering belief became part of the foundation that helped me find my way back. They reminded me that we don't always carry hope alone. Sometimes someone else carries it until we're strong enough to carry it ourselves.

As I began to heal, I realized something that changed everything.  My greatest victories were never the championships.  They weren't the podiums.  They weren't the magazine covers, sponsorships, or world rankings.  My greatest victory was choosing to keep going.  It was learning to harness emotion instead of being ruled by it.  It was discovering that purpose can be born from pain, and that our deepest wounds often become the places from which we can help others heal.

That's why I wrote Throwing Hope.

Not to tell people how extraordinary my life has been, but to remind them that extraordinary strength often grows in ordinary people who refuse to quit.

This book isn't just about climbing.  It's about grief.  It's about trauma.  It's about success and failure.  It's about business, family, friendship, faith, and identity.  It's about walking so close to the edge that you wonder if you'll ever find your way back—and discovering that even there, hope is waiting.

If there's one thing I've learned, it's this:  We all climb something.  For some, it's a mountain.  For others, it's loss, anxiety, addiction, failure, illness, broken relationships, or simply finding the courage to face another day.  The climb looks different for each of us, but hope meets us all in the same way: one step at a time.

Today, I know I still have something to give.  Not because I've figured life out.  Not because I've conquered every fear.  But because I survived the darkness, and I found a light worth sharing.

If these pages help just one person believe they're not alone…if they inspire one person to take one more step…then every championship, every failure, every scar, and every difficult season will have been worth it.

Because that's what Throwing Hope has always been about.

Finding the courage to keep moving.  And discovering that hope has been walking beside us all along.

Get your copy here: gordonmcarthur.com/my-book