You guys, I have a fun new hobby. I've been not-blogging about it for a while, because (a) I continue to be vague about my location and the number of Midwestern climbing gyms is not enormous, and also (b) it feels like a departure from my usual frugal habits. But I love it and I did something hard tonight, and I am going to tell you more about it.
Have you ever been rock-climbing? We had been to the gym here in Gladlyville occasionally -- I took a belay class when Petely was 2 or so. (He will be 14 next month, if you can believe it.) Last year he asked if he could have his birthday party there, and that's when the boys' interest took off. On the day of his party I hadn't climbed in more than 10 years. My first attempts were not pretty. If you've never climbed you might assume that it's all about strength, but it's more complicated than that. It requires some flexibility, and a fair amount of balance, and some technical skills. ("Trust the heel hook!" Pete exhorted me tonight, as I stretched out five feet above the floor and parallel to it. I...am still working on a trustworthy heel hook.) It also involves more creativity and problem-solving skill than I first realized. It's as much a brain sport as an arm sport.
It reminds me a little bit of knitting (here all the Serious Climbers snort derisively, but hear me out) in the way that you can vary the difficulty of the undertaking to suit your current state of mind. If I want to tackle a super-gnarly* Shetland lace stole with cobweb yarn and wrong-side patterning, I can do that. Or I can just crank on a plain-vanilla sock while I mostly think about something else. At the rock-climbing gym, when I am fresh I can work out the next pieces of the routes that make me say "Hmmm" or perhaps "You have got to be kidding me." When my arms are tired I go and repeat some easy routes to build endurance.
*Does anyone say gnarly these days? Or does it serve only as a signifier of middle age?
I love the thinky part of it. Running doesn't require a ton of brainpower, unless you count the creative efforts to dissuade oneself from taking a walk break. But climbing something new and hard requires my brain to fire on all cylinders. Can I trust that hold? Will I have enough leverage if I move my foot to that chip? I want to tackle that tough move with my right hand, but will I fall off the wall if I try to switch hands? It might be better to try the tough move left-handed than to have to climb back up here again.
Routes are rated by difficulty. Beginners start with 5.6 routes; I've been hanging out in 5.8/5.9 territory for a while now -- reasonably confident about finishing those routes, daunted by anything harder. But! Tonight! I sailed up the first section of a 5.10a, the part I had managed before. I got the following move. I thought to myself, "I will probably fall off now that I am in the hard part, but at least I got a little further tonight." But! Then! I did not fall off! After the hard part I matched on the highest hold I could see and looked around, confused, for the next hold. There was no next hold! I did it! It's a milestone! 5.10a, baby! I think this paragraph needs more exclamation points!!
In climbing as in much of the rest of my life, my anxious brain has presented a formidable barrier. It took me a long time to trust the rope. I still get scared on the wall. There's another 5.10a in my sights that requires me to undertake one big dynamic move: I have to jump from a precarious position up to a higher hold. I couldn't do it tonight. But maybe next time. And if not, I'm pretty sure I'll get it the time after that.
Recent Comments