Oh, the beginning, when life as a climber was new, exciting, and innocent. Each day strength doubled and mere weeks led to rapid progression. Sessions were filled with nothing more than giggles and mirth.Then it happened, THUD! Progression comes to a halt and the coming hurdle looms on the horizon. This buzz-kill is a succubus to the unbridled enthusiasm that once filled the heart. It is at this point it becomes necessary to commit to regimented training. It is also at this point that the many evils that thrive on failure pick up the first whiff of their prey, and begin to hunger for the kill.
The creation and implementation of a successful training schedule is something I have struggled with since the day I scribed my first workout. Ok, I'll be honest. My first 10 or so climbing workout plans were essentially broken internal promises. Ever so slowly I learned that in order to achieve an inkling of success, it was essential to scribe a plan. Try though I may, with each plan penned I eventually encountered a seemingly inevitable demise. I now look back at the knives that stole the life from the gorgeous plans of past and seek to find the masked villains that lurk in the darkness, preying on the slaughter of my success.
The first formidable foe is the one who casts a spell on you, gluing your ass to the couch and suckling at your motivation like a leech.
Getting properly motivated, especially for that initial push, is painstakingly cumbersome. Not only must one get motivated to beat the snot out of themselves, but also to conserve energy and never lose sight of that initial urge. I think I can, I think I can, I think I suck... Training needs to be viewed as a job, or more accurately, as an investment. It is a common tendency of humanity to crave immediate results. No one is eager to work a job where they must wait months for their first paycheck. Unfortunately that is the harsh truth. All climbers hit plateaus and pushing yourself on requires stalwart self sacrifice and unfettered dedication. Look on the bright side, at least with this job telling the boss to shove it will only lead to awkward stares from those around you. Beware when seeking out motivation, on the other side of this evil see-saw is its stepbrother, over- ambition.
Many know what it feels like to get a surge of excitement followed by it slowly deflating like a birthday balloon. PFFFFffffttttt. Over-ambition has been assassinating the endeavors of resolution makers since Eve resolved to a no apple diet. It is the bully chanting into ear and leaving you with feelings of inadequacy. This taunting leads to overzealous plans for climbing improvement, and results in pushing the body beyond it's limits. This is much like thinking it possible to gobble down the 10 pound pizza challenge. It begins with the ego whispering sweet nothings, goading on the body, even though it knows this will break you. Unfortunately the body knows best and low and behold the engineer running your ship checks in. (Read with Scottish Accent) “CAPTAIN, SHE CAN’T TAKE MUCH MORE OF THIS.” RED ALERT! RED ALERT! Be it the 10 pound pizza or the 5 hour workout session, the body has decided that it no longer wants to be a part of this relationship. Upon waking the next day it feels as though the Macho Man delivered flying elbow drops to every muscle. Snap into a coma, OH YEAH! If over-ambition doesn’t leave the body completely deflated then it may travel down another dark and dreary road of workout blues. Along this road an Iron Clad foe bides its time, waiting, hammer in hand, for the moment to pounce and send your workout plan to a shallow grave. Its name, Injury.
Healthy fingers are imperative for any climber. Listening to them is a commandment that requires obedience, with punishments that are certain and severe. Injury is a dour foe that never hesitates to capitalize on your stupidity. If a finger is starting to hurt, it's trying to communicate. It's either listen to the little feller, or POP goes the fizzle. The problem is that climbers are like vampires with a blood lust for whippers, heel hooks, and lock offs. It is imperative to control the thirst for glory and give ample (though not abundant) time to recover from, or to avoid, injury. Focusing on other interests can help to distract the strongest of the screeching inner demons. In other words, looks like a good time to take up Tae Bo, or perhaps join the Happy Hands Club. While many a workout plan has suffered the strike of injury there is another more subtle evil that lurks in the darkness, leaving behind only a trail of cookie crumbles.
There is the age old comparison that our bodies are like factories. At times throughout my life, my factory has resembled that of Mr. Henry Ford, a perfect model of production. Over time, negligence takes hold, and the factory degenerates to a remnant of its initial splendor, eventually running on sludge and scum alone. The ideal human factory requires 100+ ounces of water a day and a balanced assortment of carbs, proteins, vitamins, and more. When my factory tuns to shambles it runs on caffeine, random heavy consumption of whatever I feel like eating, wine, beer, whiskey, and late night meals (that I tell myself are just snacks). A few years back I could consume an entire Mrs. Budd's Chicken Pot Pie in one sitting. IT'S SUPPOSED TO FEED 6 PEOPLE! Not the ideal soil to grow a healthy blossoming climber. Wash all this down with a bottle of wine or a few beers in the evening...I am working against my body, pretending that next week I will clean up my act and eat balanced meals at properly spaced intervals. HA, what a hoot! I will though. Seriously. Starting next week. But for now, pass the chocolate pretzels my way.
By the way, did i mention the caffeine and booze? Two wonderful beverages that are the enemies of one of life’s most essential elements; water. Try though i may, with my two highly decorated Nalgenes, I never meet the recommended daily dose of H2O. This is most likely because I am two busy drinking coffee or wine. Dehydration is a leading cause of injury in exercise, a dangerous fact that I often disregard and taunt with my idiotic ways. If a workout plan is to succeed to its fullest potential it needs a body supplied with super diesel. If the right fuel is not powering the engine, then the body is not getting the most out of workouts. More work is required on a diet of pizza and Long Trail than that of baked chicken, broccoli, and coconut water. Unfortunately, treating the body right takes its toll on the wallet. Here we encounter another demon who is enticing you with his fat stacks and bling bling.
All the extra work required from a bad diet is even worse when coupled with the work done for that cash money. Most of us need to work to make a living and unfortunately, work takes a lot of time. Fitting a feasible training plan into a 40+ hour work schedule is damn difficult. The exhaustion of a work week takes its toll on the the most resolute desire to become a stronger climber. After some long days all one wants to do is run home and crawl into a ball on the couch, listening to the soothing sounds the latest Netflix additions. I've been geeking out on Legend of the Seeker lately. What can I say? Final Fantasy for life. Work can drain life dry, but ditching out on a training session may lead to a weaker resolve. Eventually, if work drains you dry, a mortal wound is delivered to a beautiful plan that once was. No matter how beautiful climbing may be, the eye will still wander, finding the enticing next foe waiting with open arms.
The most devout climber grows tired of his mistress every now and then. She can be a real b*tch after all. When that weariness wares us down there is a creature who craves nothing but attention. The more whispers in our ear, the better it sounds to sneak off to dinner with friends and blow off the endurance workout. 4 x 4 Friday are abandoned to throw a Halo LAN party.Those who are less of a nerd may wish to blow off a workout at the pub, letting out some steam doing car bombs and singing along to Blondie on Karaoke. Maybe its ski season and the rope gets tossed into a closet to be sad and alone for the next three months. Life can very easily get in the way of the pursuit of climbing glory. Other hobbies or events in life can lead to climbing plan running from the altar in tears. Sticking to a regiment involves an unwavering selfishness. No strong climber was made without first breaking some hearts. “Sorry lil Susie but Matthew can’t come out and play today. He is grounded until he does his fingerboard workout.”
With the broad array of demise seeking demons, I realize that every plan, no matter how perfect, is going to run its course. An insidious masked marauder is crafting sabotage for each and every plan I conceive. Ring ring...ring ring...HELLO SIDNEY, cough cough... I mean BOOFER! STAB STAB, SLICE, DEAD, MUERTO, CIAO. Life is far to unpredictable for it to be any other way. Climbing is hard. Life is busy. The world is full of change. The marriage of the climber and climbing is not Happily Ever After. It's trying and requires reform, patience, and willpower. No matter how in depth a plan is, it can never encompass the entirety of what is to come. All one can do is fend off the fiends for as long as they can muster. Though each plan may have failed, there has been a bit of success earned with each failure. The best thing a plan can be is adaptable and receptive to life's chaos. WIth the death of each plan, revive and revise it to better suit the current situation. No matter how well architected a plan may be, it will only see results while temporarily evading all predators. No past plan is a failure; only an experience to be learned from, and a blueprint for the gorey sequel.
Ugh, so true >> "The exhaustion of a work week takes its toll on the the most resolute desire to become a stronger climber."
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