A Lovely Love Affair

I know, I know; I said love. Its a mushy, squishy, sometimes lovely, and sometimes uncomfortable, cringe-inducing word. 

Dont worry. I wont make you blush. I'm simply in the deepest love with my climbing shoes.

Admittedly, I'm a gear junky. For example, most folks may have one, maybe two puffys for the spectrum of their adventures. But when you work in this industry and for a great company that features new colors of your favorite puffy every fall (this year in berry!!) and a new girlie version of the best uber-cozy, ideal-on-rainier puffy well, its hard not to suddenly up the count in your closet to (please dont judge) six. I often cave to the "shiny-and-new" but gear comes and goes so quickly in this highly competitive industry that its hard to get attached to any one thing before its lost its luster.

Until now.

At the start, I was unsure of this relationship. I had my eye on an entirely different shoe but the great folks at Second Ascent didn't have it in my size. The helpful sales guy didn't give up playing matchmaker and steered me towards Scarpa's Thunder. They fit well, but I was a bit turned off by the cumbersome laces vs. speedy velcro that I sought and the dull grey, last-season color.

Love, In The Color Gray

Edging, friction, solid precision, and a snug fit that didnt allow the shoe to slide around my foot in crack and on tiny features of technical routes but with enough comfort for long days.... all qualities of a perfect shoe that I didn't think existed. Though I wasn't sure if they were aggressive enough, the Thunders seemed to have quite a bit of what I wanted. And, its hard to find a shoe that even fits my foot; wide toe-box, narrow heel, short achilles, and sensitive big-toe joint. These fit and they were on sale. Hesitant but hoping for the best, I took them home with me.

A few days later I found myself at the climbing gym for break-in session #1 with the Thunders. At first a little nervous, worry melted away after the first climb and a lightning bolt of love shot through my heart. 

A month of fairly consistent climbing and they've ever-so-slightly molded to my feet for longer-wearing comfort without losing the snug fit for feeling small features. On Straight Shooter, it was easy to toe into the small crack with good purchase. Secure, solid smearing of rough sandstone a few days later, I felt confident on my feet despite my road-trip hangover. And much to the annoyance of my climbing party, I could not quit shouting "I love my shoes!" How can a girl do otherwise when her heart is soaring?

Though they're a moderate shoe - probably not aggressive enough for 5.11+ climbing - I have a better ability to feel with my feet and more confidence in my footwork than I've had in quite a while. They've ticked off every one of the "requirements" from my list. 

We're a match made in heaven, my Thunders and me. And even now, after enough use that they're starting to violate the 3-foot rule, I'm still in love.

A Case for Dreaming

Y2K. RR, NV

The breeze catches my shirt, the chalk bag clipped to the back of my harness, the wisps of curl set free from beneath my helmet, gently urging me up...up...upwards. The sun is warm; not so hot to bake out my energy, but that perfect temperature that keeps the chill away. Calm, steady, smooth, I step higher, reach higher into the perfect splitter to a solid stance and bomber gear. I place, I clip, and I continue upwards on rock that feels as much a part of my being as do my lungs pumping a steady breath in and out and my heart that hums with the rhythm of my movements. Wings spread wide, a hawk soars above watching my moves, acknowledging with approval, my existence in this place. Without rushing, I make my way to the ledge, pausing to rest and take in my surroundings. Then I anchor in and bring my partner up.

Smooth, calm, and full of the same exuberance for this experience as me, my partner climbs to meet me. We high-five, share a chuckle at some inside joke that came from this experience, exclaim our happiness at this most incredible day and our burly achievement, swap gear. Then my faceless climbing partner continues on.

My partner is "faceless" because this is a dream. This partner embody qualities from many of the people I've climbed with over the years - the arms of one, feet of a second, ears, hair, helmet, harness of others, but with the inspired joy for this activity that all have shared. They cannot have a face, since one is not enough. In this dream, I scale the vertical and overhanging, small-featured faces and sustained cracks and I have no hesitation, I do not waver, I do not need to "take." I am confident and I am crushing it! 

My new friend, Mr. Burro

I love this dream. I dream it when I sleep and I dream it when I'm awake, while I stare over my desk and out the window towards the Olympics, out the windshield of my car, out the window by my kitchen sink into the dark as I do my dinner's dishes. This is the dream I'm chasing, hoping to turn into reality.

This dream was a big part of why I so eagerly anticipated my road trip to Red Rock Canyon. This was going to be a marker as to how far I'd come in my "year of climbing". I was going to get on BIG! things. And finally, as in my dream, feel like a real climber.

But, my trip was not what I expected. And this last week it dawned on me that I don't even know what being a real climber means. Can someone be a "fake" climber vs. a "real"one? Is there such a thing? And if not, what is this goal I'm trying to achieve anyways?

The current reality: I forget to breathe, my legs shake, my confidence falters. "Crushing it" means finishing a 2-pitch, 5.7 trad climb or clipping 5.9 sport bolts, maybe when pushed a 5.10, without panic. This reality is not my dream. I am not there. Yet.

Pre-lightning

In Red Rock, torrential rain, thunder, and terrifyingly close lightning were a surprise. I got only 4 days on rock instead of 7. Climbing Pauligk Pillar, that 2-pitch 5.7, took my breath away, required all my focus, and, were it not for my partners singing ridiculous songs for distraction, I might not have been able to smile away the heart- and climb-stopping fear (light-years away from even a hint of 5.12). The one "longer" route I climbed kicked me off at halfway when another downpour hit. I had enough down time re-repack my dirty clothes, wander a bookstore for half a day, and drink too much coffee. None of this was planned.

But also not planned was the time to make new friendships, renew ones I'd let lax, and redefine others, including the one with myself, this climber girl. (And the time to hang out with wild burro!) Despite all that was unexpected, I still had fun. So, what is it that this climber really wants? Is it to someday redpoint 5.12? Climb big walls? Find some hidden, unknown line to FA?

New day, new landscape. 

At one point, these goals were that beautiful dream. Maybe, they're still parts of it; I'd like to hope so. But they are no longer the definition of what that dream climb is all about. My purpose for being in Nevada's desert, on PNW granite at home, or on that nameless climb in my head has changed. While the dream may still look similar, I'm reminded that its actually about the feel of the breeze, the joy for a moment shared with a good partner, the journey to find peace through letting go of fear, the fun in achieving even 5.7, and in the unexpected goodness of "off" days with friends.

One thing I am very confident of; I still love this dream, its what real climbing is to me. And this is reality.

"Once Upon A Time" Was Yesterday

I love my yoga teacher. Or rather, my yoga teacher's assistant (Eiric says you are your own teacher, he just helps that inner teacher figure things out). I have learned more in his class the last 5 weeks than I did in many of my college courses. If I'd taken his yoga classes during college, perhaps I would've done better.

Eiric's class began with him talking of a scenario: "you know that feeling, after you've read a page in a book, but once you turn to the next, you can't remember a single thing you read?"

Ridiculous dog pauses for a campaign photo

I exclaimed to myself, "Yes!"

He continued, "this happens because we're distracted." And that distraction often comes from us inserting preconceived notions into a situation, anticipating before letting it play out, our expectations distracting us from the real moment at hand. (sometimes, honestly, I cant remember a single word because I'm so tired I keep falling asleep and the book keeps smacking me in the forehead, but still...).

Very often in reading or yoga, these thoughts come in the form of dark expectations; "last time I fell in this pose", "putting my feet over my head is scary", "its so strenuous and my legs burn." And you'd better believe this happens for me all the time climbing. Thoughts run rampant like one continuous what-if, "what if I fall...what if my strength/balance fails me...what if my belayer gets distracted by a bee flying around their head/the cute belayer next to them/my ridiculously funny dog/blowing bubbles with their gum?"

But really, so what if any of those situations were true once upon a time. Maybe once upon a yesterday I fell over in a pose, or once upon a year ago I took a mini-fall a few feet. Maybe they were true. Once.

Today is different. Today is all new. We all have previous moments in life that helped shape who we have become. But we certainly are not required to react now the way we once did. Today, we're allowed to let go of expectations shaped by yesterday. Let go of the "shoulds" or "dids". Each experience, even if its a repeat motion, is new today and different from any other time. 

A place I can always find possibility...

I have anxiously been counting down the last days before I break free to climb in Red Rock Canyon. This trip feels a bit like coming full circle; my goal of the Year of Climbing came partly out of my trip there in March. My break tonight from gearing up was to go to yoga and Eiric's message was incredibly well timed. Let go of expectation, let go of old perceptions. Let go of Darkness and Embrace the light. Similar Arno Ilgner's wise words in Rock Warriors Way to "look for the options," Eiric's class was a reminder to open up to possibility. Possibility allows that anything can happen - it is in this space that I can move, grow, learn, and truly feel life happen in the moment. 

Taking my teacher's assistant's words from tonight to heart, I've packed them along with my rock shoes, swim suit, and camera. I've also packed along another of his teachings - and my mantra for the summer - "its not good, its not bad, it just is." Oh, and one last bit of good thought dispensed to me tonight, "dont forget to have a ton of fun." I packed that as well.

Wishing you Possibility for whatever you choose to step into tomorrow, too.

(ps - i love my yoga studio! if you're near beacon hill and are looking for one, i highly recommend yoga on beacon. so much goodness in that little studio.)

Back in the Day...

The day of March 13th, to be exact, I'd just arrived in the sunny city of sin to gamble. I wasnt putting my hard earned green backs on the line but was betting a bit of skill and pride on some beautiful, red sandstone. Anxiousness reigned - would I come out ahead, break even, or find myself in a deficit?

It was my first visit to Red Rock Canyon, and as we drove down Charlestown Blvd towards the park, I felt anticipation amp up as my jaw hit the floor. How was it that I'd traveled to Vegas a number of times before but never knew this incredible place was only a short drive from the strip? (guess i should've laid off the tom collins's...)

My good friend, patient climbing partner, and coworker - and the reason I was even there - Herr Folk had prepped me on what to expect from the rock and after an early flight and hearty breakfast, we were pulling into Calico Canyon. Wind that tried to barrel us over and nearly took limbs off by forcefully slamming car doors couldnt stop me! I wanted to get on that rock!  Letting Herr Folk take first lead, I watched as he climbed higher, and higher, and higher...Oye. Couldnt we have started on something a little, ahem... shorter? A few pitches in, including one gentle lead by yours truly and I really felt like the cobwebs might be shaking off.

So wrong, little grasshopper.

A day later, in Mesculito Canyon, nerves nearly got the better of me as I barely pulled a 5.7 trad pitch. It took quite a bit of cursing (i know, i know... i thought i was angelic too. apparently, i'm more like a sailor), a few roughly grunted "watch me's!" and some terrified "taking" at the most gigantic ledge-like rests, I topped out. Honestly, it was brutal. I was hot, tired, sniffly from a cold. And I was really, really scared. I began to wonder if this climbing schiznit was really for me. Maybe I'm not built for this? Maybe, I should stay the ever-enthusiastic follower, happy to belay her leader wherever they want to go - as long as I can safely stick with pulling gear, not placing it? Maybe I'm not ready to play with the big boys and girls who are willing to take risk? Maybe, I never will be. Ugh. There was no "maybe" about hating that feeling.

Oh, March. How long ago you are! (thankfully)

Another day, the opportunity to climb with some SLC friends who let me be middle on a couple of longer climbs in Mesculito gave me a new sense of nervous confidence. And I was mercilessly teased for being a sandbagger, and for not being able to heckle (still working on that.). Sandbagger? Me?!  I had the strength in arms and feet, a bit of balance and finesse to keep up, but the head? No sandbagging here boys, that part of me was still back in primary school of climbing.

My last full day, I was lucky enough to participate in a clinic at the Rendezvous. (I'm incredibly lucky to work a company that not only supports my hobbies personally, but occasionally sends me out on mini-adventures to do them as part of my job.). I'd been sent to the Red Rock Rendezvous to help out Senor Folk and had been granted a precious afternoon with one of our athletes, Sarah Hueniken. She's an incredibly kind and kickass guide from Canmore and was teaching a clinic on anchors and gear placement for women. I got to mock-lead, then rappel down with her as she examined my gear. The verdict? It was all solid, all fall-worthy. A few small recommendations, but overall, her take: gear is good, confidence? well, honey, that's what needs the work.

I left, having had an incredible experience, surrounded by amazing people who also happen to be inspiring climbers. I pushed my limits and was scared out of my gourd! And I realized, though it may have taken a fellow female climber to point it out, that I actually can bring it to the table, if I only have the guts to believe in myself.

So I took that 2cents to heart, and I'm starting to ues it. And I'm seeing just how much more I can throw down. The year of climbing. So far, so good.


PS - still havent figured out the quote biz.... so, 1. Herr Folk nearly getting blown over, 2. Giving me the "what the heck, scared sister?" stare down in Mesculito Canyon, 3. A good game for determining the leader played out by Jesse and Shingo, 4. Sarah sharing her superwoman knowledge with us

De-Seattle-izing the Approach

I'm trying hard to relearn my take on dealing with situations; learning to cut to the chase rather than passive aggressively beating around the bush in classic Seattle style. I'm a born Seattleite after all, so this is a bit of a challenge.  But with that in mind, here's the deal... Most people who climb with me know the routine. We get to the rock. I'm psyched!!! I'm feeling strong. I can do this!! And I'm gonna love it.

And then.

I hit an arete, a windy, airy exposure like the one in that photo, or a run out. And. I. Freeze. Scared shitless to day-ruining degrees. I could give you my classic line - I started climbing to get over a fear of heights...blah blah blah. But lets cut the BS - its been 7 years. Its finally time to quit with the passive aggressiveness (or whatever you want to all it) and step up.

Turns out, I climb quite well. Having been a swimmer for a long time, I have "those" shoulders and arms and I'm happy on rock when I can use them. I love the feeling of getting a sequence, of dancing on rock. I especially love climbing when I have a top rope coming down to me. The love of leading has been harder to nurture. Its really more of a love-hate relationship. I love to climb, hate the thought of falling. Just ask my dear climbing partner Zanetka who recently laughed after I shot her the "are you effing kidding me?" look when I was asked to just Fall. And it was during falling practice, so I knew I was going to have to let go at some point. See, the problem is I dont trust myself or, maybe better confessed, dont have the confidence to trust myself.

So, in similar fashion to a day 7 years ago when I decided a fear of heights was dumb and I'd better get over it by getting high up, I've decided this silly lack of confidence is gonna have to go, too. The time has come to get over it. So here I am in the middle of my self appointed Year of Climbing. Time to step it up, cut out the passive aggressive bullshit and make it happen. I'll keep you posted. So far so good - I've got some catching up to do on this end, but already, as of July 1 when I hit the post button, I'm on my way. And I must admit, the love is growing. Happy climbing.