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

Biker Chick

If you’re planning a trip to Boulder, Colorado, you’ve certainly added “visit Chataqua park” to your itinerary. First of all, you could have streamlined that to say “Chataqua,” I’m not sure why you felt the need to make that a wordier task. Sorry, I will stop poking fun at your imaginary itinerary-planning skills (or lack thereof?).

Lately, Chataqua has become even more of a messy conglomeration of tourists than it was before. The main trails have been under construction LITERALLY forever (that’s not being dramatic at all), you now have to pay to park, and this morning I saw that they’ve added a photo booth. Sheesh. I go to Chataqua not for the hike; I go to free solo climb the second flatiron (to sum up “free solo”- it’s climbing without a harness or ropes). Honestly, the hike to get to the base of the slab is the pesky part.

 

Because of the whole “pay for parking” situation (yeah, as IF I would drop a dime on that!), I have started riding my bike to Chataqua. Actually, ever since my shoulder injury mentioned in the past few posts (catch up if you haven’t read them yet. I’ll wait, and even include a page break so that it seems as if I actually waited), I have been biking as a primary means of transportation.

That was the page break that I requested be included on your behalf. You’re welcome. Alright, so back to the meat of this post. Yum, meat, maybe it’s time for a burger break? Do you see why I have issues just sitting down and writing? Because of my increase in biking activity, I am trying to be an overall less awkward biker. Whenever someone passes me (which gives you an idea of how speedy I am), they usually shout out “passing on your left!” (or, passing on your right!), and my first reaction is to move to the side they announce, which thankfully hasn’t led to any collisions yet, and then I awkwardly feel the need to respond, so I yell “ok, sounds good!” which is completely unnecessary.

 

I’ve always found there to be “looks” that bikers exchange with other bikers, drivers, walkers, runners, etc. One of the looks is a look exchanged between bikers biking uphill and drivers passing them or driving downhill in the opposite direction. I used to give the sympathetic look to uphill bikers as a driver- like “aww, it really sucks that you are biking up that horrible hill, but I am sitting in my nice air-conditioned car and thus am unable to feel your pain, but I guess I am sorry you are in pain.” As bikers exchanging looks, it’s some serious empathy. Like, “yo fellow biker, I LITERALLY know EXACTLY how you feel; I just did that horrendous climb, but be motivated by the knowledge that soon, you will be flying downhill just as I am now.” The other is just the look of irritation that drivers give bikers and pedestrians, the one that says “how DARE you make me wait for another light cycle!” as they throw up their arms in indignation. Ironically, when that same driver is a pedestrian or biker, he or she is frustrated by drivers, thinking “how DARE you make me wait for another light cycle!” as they throw up their arms in indignation.

I decided to share the bike-related thoughts rattling around in my brain today, because it is Bike to Work day. I biked to work (because, once again, bike to work day!) basically one million miles (again, no drama here), and stopped at a few breakfast stations en route. I got a bunch of free bike gear from Nite Ize, who also gave me fruit and a Clif Bar, but they lacked coffee which I got later, ironically, at the tea factory Celestial Seasonings. Then I got to work drenched in sweat, which was fine because we are a bunch of fitness fanatics spending the majority of our time in workout garb. I don't have any kind of concluding thoughts for this blog so.... the end?