Blue Lawn Chair

Apparently, I care about lawn chairs.
I’ve always known that I typically give inanimate objects personalities and feelings. The “As-is” section at IKEA (what is with that name? There doesn’t need to be a hyphen between “as” and “is.” Also, if they are going to do that, why is “is” not capitalized?? Or is that their attempt at trying to be charming and show they are based in a place where English is not the first language?) depresses me like you couldn’t believe. Sad, friendless, broken items longing to be chosen by those passing through, often times dealing with the shoppers’ mockeries.
 
Okay, call me crazy. Whatever. I’ll accept it.
 
When last in Minnesota, I stayed with relatives who live in a house with a lovely backyard leading to a lake with a dock. One day during my trip, someone placed two blue plastic lawn chairs on the aforementioned dock. That evening (or maybe it was the next? It really doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of this story) the weather took a turn for the worse; heavy winds, a deluge of rain, and a tornado of death, Wizard of Oz style (maybe I am being a bit dramatic…except for the wind). So, this torrential wind blew one of the two blue plastic lawn chairs into the lake.
 
There it sat, all day. I couldn’t help but think of the poor, abandoned lawn chair ending up like the items in IKEA’s “As-is” section (GAH! Just capitalize “is” and remove the hyphen!). All alone, insults from even the broken and discarded IKEA items pummeling it from all angles in Swedish, mocking the blue lawn chair for being a lame American item wanted by no one.
 
By the second day, the lake even decided it didn’t want Blue Lawn Chair in its waters and had pushed it to the most muck and algae-ridden part of the lake. Enough was enough. I stood up on the dock in my swimsuit and declared (to no one, but out loud) “I’m going in!” And in I went. I cannot adequately describe the revolting, stomach-churning feeling of swimming through and attempting to stand in the thick, mucus-like algae and who knows what else in which Blue Lawn Chair had ended up. All I can say is I felt submerged in some radioactive waste, surely full of disgusting parasites and leeches, conforming around my body, giving me some horrific super power like being able to pop my eyes out and juggle them. Absolutely purposeless except maybe as a weird party trick.
 
I grabbed Blue with one arm, determined to evade my demise as the eyeball juggler, but equally determined to get Blue (new nickname) back on the dock. The rigid plastic edges of the chair scraped my arms and legs, and I struggled to get Blue onto my back, carrying him (or her??) to safety like a drowning child. Eventually, I made my way back, thrust Blue onto the dock, and climbed up myself. I noticed cuts on my legs that later would be surrounded by bruises. But it was worth it to get Blue reacquainted with Other Blue Lawn Chair. I sighed with relief, proud of my efforts.
 
Then, the wind blew an innertube left on the dock into the lake. I declared, with less gusto and again to no one, “I’m going in.”

Climbing Forever

Hey readers. Or reader. Or an empty, readerless void. I am stuck at home, because Corona-tine (doesn't have too great of a ring to it, maybe I'll just stick with Corona Quarantine), and it is raining to boot. Woot. I'm a poet and didn't know it. So I figured I would finally publish a blog that's been sitting in my drafts for many months. Enjoy. Or don't.

November, 2019

Four years ago, on November 19, 2015, I climbed for the first time. I instantly fell in love with it; I had discovered my life passion. My relationship with climbing grew and blossomed and quickly became something I couldn't imagine living without.

I was listening to Dax Shepherd's Podcast, Armchair Expert, today and he said that he feels sorriest for people who don't know what they love. This may sound extreme, but I felt pretty lost trying to discover my life passion, and to know what I love. I knew it was climbing the instant I ascended my first route at a climbing gym. At times, I think back and wish I'd discovered it earlier. Yet, perhaps everything in life happens at exact moments for just the right reasons. I am thankful for every route I have climbed or fallen from, and every boulder problem mastered or unsolved. I cherish every memory with every person (or guinea pig) with whom I have climbed. Sharing my life passion with others brings me immense joy, and I love to see people encounter the challenges and reap the benefits that come from this amazing activity.

I've participated in a number of activities like yoga and running to try and quiet my mind over the years. However, no matter how hard I try, I couldn't get my thoughts to settle down. Climbing changed all of that. It feels always intuitive, always natural, and always something I should be doing. People think I am insane for climbing the flatirons in Boulder without ropes. People ask me why I climb or if it scares me and the honest truth is it doesn't. I climb because I have to, I love to, and it is what I should be doing. When I am on the rock, my mental chatter goes quiet.

In honor of this momentous occasion, my four year anniversary with climbing, I decided to finally post a draft blog I wrote in August about soloing the second flatiron. Enjoy!

August, 2019

As of this morning, I have solo climbed the second flatiron 100 times.

I don't write about climbing as much as I should considering the role of unparalleled importance it plays in my life. When first introduced to the sport, it felt like I finally found my passion in life- something for which I'd been searching a long time. About six months after climbing and my relationship began, I free soloed the second flatiron with a friend. I don't recall feeling scared of climbing with no ropes; on the contrary, I felt free and peaceful.

Soon, I couldn't get enough of soloing the second flatiron. Anytime the weather was nice, I carved out time in my day to head to Chataqua to do so. Over the years, free soloing has forced me to overcome seemingly unsurmountable mental obstacles. For example, there is a jump on the second flatiron called the "leap of faith." At first (and understandably so), most people are intimidated by the idea of jumping from one rock to the next. It appears so much more terrifying than it is, and for my first 16 climbs up the second, I was too scared and found a way to avoid it. When I finally decided to face my fear, I realized how much easier it was to do the jump. Conquering that fear was a game changer for me.

I now solo with friends, first time climbers, and have climbed the first three flatirons with over ten guinea pigs. Those places are my sanctuary, and I am so glad to still have such a strong relationship with climbing.

Climbing with Bilbo

Climbing with Gandalf

Climbing with Legolas

Climbing with Mario

Climbing with Dave

Climbing with Neo

Ma-Ma-Ma-My Corona

I'm sitting here trying to recall the first day I ever heard mention of the Coronavirus, which was then known by a different name. It can't have been more than a month ago, I feel like, Yet, whenever it was, gyms were still open. People of all ages frequented grocery stores without donning masks on their faces. Pick up and delivery weren't the only dining out options (if you can even call it dining "out" anymore). Things felt as normal as they ever did, and yet today was the first time I felt the change in the tides.

I am fortunate enough to be able to work from home, so home is where I have been. This has been tough as I truly love going into the office and I miss my coworkers. But I've been muddling through. Each day starting around mid-March things began to get more difficult. One of my beloved climbing gyms closed. Then another announced its closure. Then another gym, and another. I started trying to work out at home, but it simply isn't the same. For me, the hardest part is probably the closure of my climbing gyms.

I have started to feel the isolation. Today I went to the grocery store after not having left the house in days and it just felt bizarre. I couldn't come up with the right word for the shift in the worldly winds until my friend called it "surreal." It was surreal. The constant PA announcements to abide by social distancing, the signs all over the store announcing different hours, almost every individual inside wearing a mask, and signs on the doors of restaurants announcing that only five people were allowed inside to pick up orders at once, or saying they were only doing drive through and delivery.

The world feels surreal. Talk show hosts are live from inside their homes instead of in front of studio audiences. On one of my favorite Podcasts, they did their first episode over Skype with their guest to stay safe. Yet in spite of the surrealism, the guest on that episode, Sanjay Gupta, said something hopeful. Surprisingly, considering that the Dr. Gupta has been working like 20 hour days and said he hasn't really slept for more than three hours in six weeks.

"This is nobody's fault. This is a pathogen that's circumnavigating the globe, it does not respect borders or boundaries it does not discriminate against young or old, men or women, cultures around the world are all at risk from this and we all have a certain obligation or duty to try and do our part to stop this. So I don't think there are many things that bring the world together like this, potentially...it really can do something that is intimately good for the world."

He then talked about how interesting it has been to observe peoples' behavior and how we are more extrinsically than intrinsically motivated to take care of ourselves. For example, how people who found out they weren't in a high risk carrier could still pass it on to others have started to take steps to stay healthy. He talked about how interesting it is evolutionarily that we are caring about others and it isn't "survival of the fittest," and that maybe humans have evolved in a way to realize we need to care for others and need to work together. He told this story of an ER doctor who has been sleeping in his garage because he doesn't want to expose his family and how heartbreaking it is to hear that he couldn't even hug his newborn baby.

Here's the whole podcast: https://armchairexpertpod.com/pods/sanjay-gupta-on-covid-19