I had the brilliant idea to resurrect an old blog several weeks ago, but never acted on it. I have two accounts from days past, and began one as a mostly blank, slightly dusty canvas to record happenings and musing I didn't necessarily intend to share with the general public. But what good is that, really? Painting pictures no one else will see? I started this blog in 2007 while living in Alaska to keep track of things I did there and to help my family and friends keep up with me. I gleaned great enjoyment from reading the previous three posts. So, while I continue these musings almost two years later, past posts will stay.
Alright, dippy little introduction is over. Moving on.
After a number of successful V2s at the rock gym, enough to convince me the first one wasn't a fluke, I took advice from several twitter climbers and ordered literature on training and technique. I figure with my relative lack of climbing experience, which is limited to indoor gyms and one day outdoors, I can use all the help I can get. I am a few chapters into Conditioning for Climbing, despite initial frustration with the self-assessment tests. How dare a pile of inky paper label me "average?!" The blow to my ego was not entirely surprising - I can only do 6 or 7 pullups at a time. For a climber, that is definitely average; a fact I realized fully after listening to one of Eric Horst's training podcasts en route home tonight.
I am not sure I can call myself a climber yet, nor am I certain why I feel the need to label myself as anything at all. I used to be a swimmer, and struggled for a bit trying to form an athletic identity after college ended. My first climbs were on the Lindseth Climbing Wall at Cornell in 2006. The learning curve was initially steep, but I never took it very seriously. I was, and still am, focused on trying everything I'd forfeited by spending 25 hours per week doused in chlorinated water. But now, all of a sudden, I have an insatiable desire to be proficient in this sport. I'm competitive by nature, and my ego has trouble dealing with being "average." The problem is, I have a paralyzing fear of falling. (I can't wait until Girl on the Rocks arrives).
Alright, dippy little introduction is over. Moving on.
After a number of successful V2s at the rock gym, enough to convince me the first one wasn't a fluke, I took advice from several twitter climbers and ordered literature on training and technique. I figure with my relative lack of climbing experience, which is limited to indoor gyms and one day outdoors, I can use all the help I can get. I am a few chapters into Conditioning for Climbing, despite initial frustration with the self-assessment tests. How dare a pile of inky paper label me "average?!" The blow to my ego was not entirely surprising - I can only do 6 or 7 pullups at a time. For a climber, that is definitely average; a fact I realized fully after listening to one of Eric Horst's training podcasts en route home tonight.
I am not sure I can call myself a climber yet, nor am I certain why I feel the need to label myself as anything at all. I used to be a swimmer, and struggled for a bit trying to form an athletic identity after college ended. My first climbs were on the Lindseth Climbing Wall at Cornell in 2006. The learning curve was initially steep, but I never took it very seriously. I was, and still am, focused on trying everything I'd forfeited by spending 25 hours per week doused in chlorinated water. But now, all of a sudden, I have an insatiable desire to be proficient in this sport. I'm competitive by nature, and my ego has trouble dealing with being "average." The problem is, I have a paralyzing fear of falling. (I can't wait until Girl on the Rocks arrives).
That fear of falling stems from a number of things, including the fact that I will hesitate to intentionally put myself in a situation with even a remote possibility of feeling the roller-coaster-stomach-drop sensation. I do not consider myself afraid of heights, but had a belayer lower me 35 feet extremely, extremely quickly at the rock gym this past autumn and I've been scared ever since.
I took up bouldering a few months ago; I wanted to keep climbing, I love it, but needed to be closer to the ground for a little while. It was a way to postpone dealing with the fear, or perhaps just a climbing discipline I like more. But in a sport with so many variables and so many disciplines, one can't stay afraid forever. It's limiting. It is extremely difficult to take big risks on routes when I'm afraid to fall, and it's holding me back.
So, I decided I should go to a lead clinic. This is the climbing discipline that seems the scariest to me - the distance I could fall before the rope catches me is significant. The only problem is, all the lead routes at my rock gym are 5.9 or above. I can climb 5.9s, but would prefer to learn a new discipline on routes I can do. So instead, a friend from the gym offered to take me to Birdsboro this weekend and teach me a bit on his own. This is a significant favor, both because I'll be a big chicken the first half of the day, if not all day, and because I don't have enough gear to climb outdoors. I appreciate his willingness, and thanked him profusely in advance for his patience. Wish me luck!