A Legend of the Fall

You never know it's going to happen, it just does. You're never expecting the few seconds of horror that pairs with that moment of pure panic occasionally followed by a flash of red that can only be associated with pain. It's happened to us all, or at least we've seen in happen to someone right in front of us. And if it hasn't happened to you yet, make no mistake, it will. You can't avoid it. It's inevitable and in some situations the best thing that could happen. Let me explain...

THE INEVITABLE

The moment your feet leave the ground is like any other, whether it's a warm-up or an onsight attempt of your latest project. Your feet and hands could be moving fluidly, your mind may be focused and clear, but then something goes wrong. Perhaps the lactic acid begins to creep it's way into the capillaries of your forearms. Or maybe a hold gives way without warning. Or just maybe you're a boss throwing down on a V12 that climaxes at a horizontal low percentage deadpoint to a slopey volcanoesque hueco.

No matter what the cause, the inevitable happens. You fall.......hard. This of course looks a little something like this...

THE AFTERMATH

Your eyes open only to see a crowd of scantily dressed chalky climbers. Half of them are smiling for some reason and the other half have a grimace that only solidifies their personal choice not to try the same problem. One brave patron eventually musters up the gaul to ask, "You alright dude?" Your immediate reaction is not to move slow and make sure that all Tab A's are still connected to the appropriate Slot B's, instead you jump up saying the obligatory, "I'm ok!" and immediately start chalking up looking for the nearest stick brush lying around. As you stand up, holding the stick brush as if your name was Gandalf, you don't pay attention to the creaks associated with the jammed shoulder that occurred on impact. The crash landing that caused your elbow to hit the floor shifting your shoulder 4 inches further than the norm, hitting you in the head above your ear. With a quick brushing and a 30 second stare down of the problem, you go straight into send mode. This rush of adrenaline from a quick trip to the deck seems to have you more focused than ever.

THE OUTCOME

Everything else seems to disappear as you go through your normal routine of rubbing your hands together three times in a sidewards slapping motion. You blow the remainder of white powder off your tips, slap your thigh and hear the scratch of nails on the concrete as you curl your pads over the two crimp starting holds. One audible breath out and you're on:

Drop your knee and flag; your body feels perfectly balanced even though in some deep cavern of your mind some pain receptor is screaming at you because you tweaked a tendon. Keep the tension as you hit the first left hand gaston and focus everything on that left toe keeping you from the barndoor swing that's blown you off of the first move dozens of times before. Your right foot seems to find the minuscule nub as if some magnetic force pulled your toe onto the perfect spot. As your brain focuses on getting your right hand as high above the huge sloper looming 18 inches above, your muscle memory kicks in, turns your toe slightly in and drops the knee 3 degrees, somehow knowing that this is what it takes to not blow that toe. With a loud thud and a puff of chalk your right hand sticks the large Nicros brain and feels solid. This is the first time you haven't had to readjust to find that slight indent close to the wall that half of your pad can gain a little more on. Your knee readjusts back in the other direction 3 degrees as your left foot flags like the pendulum of an old grandfather clock frozen in time. Effortlessly, your left hand joins your right and your brain flashes to "the fall." A momentary lapse of focus courses through your brain as the throbbing spot above your ear reminds you that it was only moments ago.

A shake of the head and you snap back to the moment, relax and straighten your arms only as much as gravity will allow. With another audible breath your eyes drift down as your left foot gently finds the crimp start hold and digs in. A perfect blend of momentum and balance starts your journey to the end. You feel your left foot come off the crimp, your right hand off that slight imperfection on the sloper and suddenly you have tunnel vision towards the finish. Don't forget when you stick your right hand your remaining foot is going to cut and your left hand needs to slide to the right to make use of that imperfection. Your right hand is inches away and the sudden feeling of weightlessness as your right toe becomes insignificant. FOCUS!! Your hand is there and it knows what to do, now look back. You watch your left hand slide into place and you know that any second now you'll have to summon all of your strength to hold this. You tense up as you feel both feet drift to the right of your center. As this is happening you watch as your left hand grips tight, and then tighter, and then snaps into the shape of a fist as it blows off of the hold. It's happening again, quick do something! You know if your foot so much as grazes the wall, it will shift your momentum out immediately causing your right hand to pop. Your feet drift further to the right and you scream, not because there is pain, not because you're angry that your hand didn't follow the plan, but because the willpower to hold a one handed campus on a slick hueco as your body flails is going to take all you can muster. You're body remembers the exact moment that your right hand slipped out sending you hurling towards the ground. That moment passes as your legs have reached their apex. You're left hand is still reaching for that sloper knowing that at any moment, gravity will play its part and shift your momentum. All you have to do is hold on. The scream continues...

In a flash your left hand is back on the sloper, no time to be surprised, your foot finds the wall instinctually to keep you from looking like a vertical pancake. Your body settles into place and for an instant your shoulder reminds you of your epic impact moments ago. You keep your composure and find that left foot and let out a shout. In your mind this shout is a combination of relief, pain, joy, and an element of surprise. To the crowd, that seconds ago was secretly hoping that they would see some air time, it is a cry of triumph. You could've called it a day when you scraped yourself off the mat. You could've gathered the small amount of pride necessary, using one of a million climber excuses, but it was the fall that drove you. The fall that kept your senses on point and focused. The fall that reminded you of where you need a little bit more. In a way, the fall is what makes you that much better.

Be Gentle It's My First Time...

We all remember our first time, the awkwardness, the pain, and the confusion.  Thoughts of; am I doing this right, is my partner gonna laugh at me, why has it ended so soon.  My first time was awful, I used all these grunts and power when some delicate finesse would have sufficed.  I'm sure through the looking glass of memory it has only gotten worse, but I am certain I was sweating like a fat guy in a leather recliner while breathing as heavy as a horse.  Obviously, I'm not talking about my "first time" nor am I talking about my first time climbing, but instead this post is about the first time I knew I was a climber.

While trying to start homework tonight, I followed my usual protocol of deadpoint, twitter and facebook.  During my facebook stalking I discovered a climbing video.  Now this is nothing unusual on facebook, with most of my friends being climbers and usually posting video/blogs etc.  What made this different was the video itself.  This video was pre-digital photography, pre-windows movie maker, final cut, and cell phone video cameras.  This video is 9 years old and shot by my friend Chris.  It is a full length bouldering video made using Clemson University's liberal lending policy on media equipment.  It stars my first group of climbing friends, myself and A.J.  Check it out here: Rumbling Bald

After the hilarity and the wonderful memories of friends and good times this video brought back, I began to think about my early days in climbing.  I climbed v3/5.11a for a better part of my first three years and could never seem to overcome that grade.  I switched between ropes and bouldering without regards to a preference.  Basically, this is an old man sitting back in his chair telling his grandkids about the good old days when I used to "climb for fun."  Truthfully, it was the innocence of my climbing youth, I lived just to climb and I didn't care how hard, how tall or how new the climbs were, I just wanted to climb because it gave me that funny feeling in my tummy.  Shortly after sending my first v5 I moved to California to participate in AmeriCorps, while there I stopped climbing for a full year.  The Corps ended and I moved back East.  I settled into my old climbing life, the only thing that changed was my climbing partner had jumped five grades in my absence.  I set it in my mind that I had to catch him, I took the plunge from hanging at the gym, to training at the gym, from climbing for fun to climbing for the numbers.  My former plateau of v3 took a week to over come, then v5 a day, within six months I had gone from not climbing to climbing v8.  That was when my climbing youth died.  To William Blake I entered into the age of Experience.

I have been training for harder and harder sends every fall since then.  August starts and I draw up a training scheme.  Week nights I tear muscles over and over again looking to stretch and tear them again the next night.  I turn away from friends having fun at the gym and I turn down dates to do pull up workouts.  On the weekends I let my frustrations and aggression explode onto boulder problems, because I have gentrified myself into only bouldering during the winter/fall/spring, "ropes are for the summer."  Climbing has evolved from the fun past time of chilling with friends in the woods, to the passionate dysfunctional embrace of loving a thing that can't love me back.

This video has me wondering, when did I become a climber?  Was it during my innocence or my experience?  I look back to that day when I first started adding pull up workouts to my climbing, I try to look back to the one day before, to the day before that and decide, when did I first feel like a climber?  When did I know that no other word would describe me?  I cannot remember that day occurring before the training precipice was crossed.  I was back to climbing after a full year off and knew I was never leaving it again.  The moment came while sitting on top of a boulder at Rumbling Bald, in western North Carolina.  I had just sent a problem called Shao Lin, it was my first v7.  I was looking towards the sun setting behind the purple mountains of the Appalachians, the leaves were all gone, but there were still some red's and orange's on the ground.  I was breathing hard, sweating, my hands were on fire, but I had done it.  I had climbed one grade harder.  For better or worse my climber identity was born from pushing myself to the next level.