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.
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| Climbing with Bilbo |
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| Climbing with Gandalf |
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| Climbing with Legolas |
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| Climbing with Mario |
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| Climbing with Dave |
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| Climbing with Neo |
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