Hello, Seattle

**All pictures in this blog are taken with my iphone.

Lets start in Seattle. Depending on how long this goes, I may break it in to two posts.

So, I went to Seattle just to resolve some wanderlust. I packed up a single, yet excrutiatingly heavy bag (not really… but minimalism was not in effect here.).

I hop on a train and begin reading. What am I reading you ask? The first of three books in The Hunger Games trilogy. I wanted to read it before the film comes out.

The train ride is smooth and calming. The sun is setting and I have the seats around me all to myself. In between pages, I am receiving texts from a new friend I’ve made. We seem to hold conversations like we’ve known each other forever, and not that it’s a well-guarded secret, I’m growing quite fond of her.

Seattle is dark and cold. I meet up with an old friend and we grab dinner at this restaurant that appears to be an old converted fire station.

Kyle picks me up. He confirms that navigation is not one of my super powers. We fill the air with banter and chat and my heart is light with the excitement of no work or responsibility.

But I’m tired. The long weeks and travel catch up with me far earlier that I except. Kyle says “if you’re too tired, I understand. We just don’t get to hang out all that often.” Guilt trip? Yes. I grab my first silver bullet.

We can’t be loud and noisy like he and I tend to be. So we grab Jenga and Uno and find a bar. It’s 11pm and I’m wired. We play, I lose the first game, but destroy at Uno.

And then we move on. There’s a taco place across the street. I’m not sure how Kyle stays so little when he eats as much as I do. It’s weird. And I hope he reads this.

We walk around downtown Seattle. It’s now 1am. We want pizza. No dice. We make a semi-split second decision to sprint back to the car. I have this on camera somewhere…

We find a pizza place right next to where we parked. It’s warm inside and they serve Kalamada Olives. It takes me back to Oz, where I used to get Pizza Capers all the time.

*Pause: I meant to write this sooner. Closer to when it happened. But now I’m trying to recount the events in some heinous stream of consciousness. This is for my benefit right now.

We head home. I pass out. I sleep until 3pm. I also crawl back into bed (couch) and stay there until 6pm.

This is not from alcohol. This is just a need to sleep. Kyle picks me up and we grab dinner. I swear it was not a date… although he paid again.

We went to this awesome Mexican restaurant and I thought I’d try out my newly acquired Spanish skills with the waiter. Big mistake. He insisted on using Spanish the rest of the time. Silly Gringo, you have much to learn… Good thing my teacher is much more patient.

Stuffed, we head to Vertical World. Their grand opening isn’t until the following night but we get in and climb. Have I mentioned that I have no aerobic endurance? I am decimated trying to keep up with Kyle and Darrell. I thought they were my friends… why would they do this to me? I take my first legitimate fall. Lets pretend it was like… 30’. It was probably only 15-20’. But I was certain that was it. I was dead. (Darrell, who has decked outside and broken his back laughed and informed me that the fall wouldn’t have killed me. Just broken my legs. Thanks Darrell.).

But I wasn’t. And suddenly being riskier (relatively speaking… I’m not saying “Go forth! Do something stupid.”) didn’t seem so bad. Pumped and blown out, Kyle drops me off at Bryan’s apartment… I swear I couch surfed and bummed my way through this entire trip.

Bryan and I stay up talking, watching YouTube and hanging out. I pass out, again from exhaustion. Wake up. Shower. Say goodbye. Hike to UW’s Dempsey Stadium where my old track team is competing.

I walk in. the ambient and familiar hum, drums me into complacency. I arrive at the pole vault pit. Sneak up on my friends and greet them with hugs and handshakes. Some faces are missing, but Attrition is a fact in this sport.

It’s not long before a starter gun goes off. My blood boils. People are vaulting. My breath is rapid. I hear the familiar creak as fiberglass strikes a plant box and bends. I feel like a recovering addict seeing my cocktail of choice for the first time in what feels like an eternity. I lived for this. This high. I loved it and I despised it. But I couldn’t stop the need.

I say my goodbyes, and head to the door. It’s raining outside. The rain makes me feel calm and I relax. I climb in a car and drive away.

The remainder of the day (3pm-930pm) consisted of bouldering at the Seattle Bouldering Project, and climbing during the Vertical World Grand Opening. I’m not going to go into too much detail as to how dangerous it was to climb with that many people not paying attention to their environment. Now, I was confident that my friends would catch me if I fell. But I couldn’t control the other climbers who frequently and carelessly walked underneath a climber, or crossed lines.

We left. Obtained more pizza. Played a game called headbands. I did really well at it. I’m basically Sherlock Holmes. ;) Anyways, you have a card with a who, what or where on it. You have 20 questions to guess what it is.

(I find this image especially unnerving... can't figure out why. haha)

Then there was catch phrase. Also awesome. BTW, I got a slight black eye from walking into a metal pipe sticking out of a Thai truck. It hurt. In fact, a week later, it’s still pretty tender. Even though the discoloring is gone.

We eventually go to sleep. I’m taken to the train in the morning. I enjoy the snow. I spend the quiet ride back finishing The Hunger Games. I get home. Shower. Sleep.

Auto Belays, Packing for Seattle

I had this down… I was ready to write this a couple hours ago. But I wasn’t home yet! I was still running errands. So lets see if I can’t wing it.

I work at the Source Climbing Center in Vancouver Washington. You guys remember that right? I know I haven’t been yakkin’ it up on here as often as I usually do. But yeah, they haven’t fired me yet (fingers crossed! Haha) and I love that job.

Recently though, we got these really cool auto-belays hanging from the walls. If you’re unfamiliar with what an auto-belay is, it’s a thing… that… well it replaces your belay partner. That guy, who stands on the ground and has a rope and keeps you safe. Pretty ingenious device if you ask me.

However, though they’ve been up for a month now… I have yet to use them. Why’s that? I have a fear of heights. Yep. There I said it. I’m a climber/pole vaulter who’s afraid of heights.

Climbing was actually meant to be a way for me to get over that fear. I noticed early on that some of my climbing ability was hindered by these irrational pangs of anxiety that flooded my system. It’s taken a year to get confident enough in the rope, in a partner, in myself to climb up 30+’ without sheer terror stepping in.

For example I turn to this popular commercial… (sorry there’s apparently no HQ version of this…)

Anyways. I was THAT guy.

So, I say to myself. I’m going to do this. I got this. It’s just climbing… with a mild plunge when you let go as the system catches you and begins lowering slowly. I have a friend texting me moral support. My boss says to me “oh yeah, it gets a little weird after 14’ don't panic... that's normal.” Such a joker, that guy… cuz I’m a boulderer… I supposedly don’t know what to do.

I’ll start on this 5.9 no biggie. The holds and everything won’t be an issue, I can just get up the wall and check out the system. Except it’s so easy, I have all this time to think about “what if it doesn’t catch me… and I die.” Or “what if does catch me, but not enough… and I break my legs?” my climbing goes down the toilet. I’m now feeling those panicky feelings again.

Still climbing below my aenorobic threshold. I get to the top. Sloppy send. I hang. “Just let go.” “No. I can hang here all day.” It’s a lie. My sharp shallow breaths are strangling me. I’ll choke and pump out in 45 seconds… 60 if I’m lucky. I look down. A couple people are staring at me. Yes… I do work here, leave me alone. I’m just doing my thing.

I come up with the brilliant strategy of lower down a few holds, the device will know I’m descending and catch me… I can skip that dangerous 3’ drop. Nope… silly James, it’s still waiting to catch you. Ok fine. I let go and plummet “OH NO! Oh crap! Oh wait… we’re good…” the whirring is there. I’m white knuckled and gripping the nylon cable that’s lowering me gently to the ground. You panicked over this? Do it again. But on a harder route.

I did a 5.10 and was fine until I hit the top and then again found myself saying “nope… can’t make me.” from somewhere down below “you have to let go. Lose control!” that is horrible advice! Oops, I slipped. Down I go… safe and sound. All in one piece.

Physically I’m fine, but mentally I’m incredibly rattled. I am not a fan of this device… but you know what that means? Uno mas! …Fine… the last route on the auto belay is a 5.10+ I begin to chug up it. Making myself take deep breaths to stave off that pump I didn’t finish recovering from. My body is quivering. Am I pumping out, or is it my nerves? I don’t know. Shut up and climb. I do. I get to the top. Hanging from the slightly over hung false rock I look down, all clear. Release. That thing caught me again.

But I swear I fall just long enough to think “maybe this it. Maybe it’s not going too…” and I land on the ground. I want so bad to be better at sport climbing. But until I can get over this crippling, nauseating fear… I’ll never reach my potential.

I spent the next few minutes looking at the veins popping out of my arms. Waiting for my stomach to release it’s knots. My hands are slightly stuck, I over gripped the entire route. Woops.

Just a heads up. I may start vlogging about my climbing. Just for giggles of course. :) we’ll see.

So, now I’m packing for Seattle. I’m taking the train. I’m hoping this will settle my wanderlust. I haven’t had the excuse to really practice minimalism on a trip yet. Not like I’d hoped… every time I had my car, I always seemed to need just one or five more things. But I’m taking the train. Something I love doing… and this is the perfect excuse to pack light. So light, I feel like my camera needs to stay home.

My goal, is one bag. Probably that goofy Olive Drab green one I got from a military surplus store. It’ll have plenty of space to carry stuff and it’s super comfy to wear for long periods of time. Which will be nice, since I’ll be spending some of this trip running around town.

Ok here’s my pack… there’s still a few things missing. Like my toiletries, and my clothes that are in the laundry… basically socks and pants. You know, the essentials.

So lets take a look at this picture…

We’ll start in the upper left and then I’ll move across the top.

Socks and underwear.

Camera bag and camera… I ditched some of the gear thinking I might just get away with bringing that and all my stuff inside it. I’m not thinking that’ll work.

My awesome hat. It’s awesome.

Arc’teryx s240 sport harness. Not likely I’ll get to use it… but it takes up so little room, and given the chance I want to use it. I really should leave this at home, the ATC is hiding underneath it.

My shoes. I’ll be wearing these. They won’t be packed.

My kindle. I love reading… this thing is a library without the bulk. It goes.

Melatonin… so I can sleep :) 1 or 2x3mg a night.

T-shirts. My pants would be next to them… they’re in the wash.

Prana chalk bag.

La Sportiva Pythons size 7.5… for my impish little feet.

My monstrous bag. This held nearly 75 lbs of clothes when I went to AUS. It’s a behemoth. I really think I could pack my camera bag inside this bag… but that would be redundant.

The white bag is actually an xbox 360, with cables and games. It’s not mine… my friend Bryan left it in Vancouver and asked me to pack it and bring it with me. if it weren’t for this, I could totally use a little back pack to take everything with me. Yeah, Bryan, Guilt trip laid.

A xbox 360 controller… because I’m going to probably at some point play games. Haha it’s also because house rules dictate guests get the crappy controller.

And lastly… 2 silver bullets (for staving off weariness and werewolves.) mountain dew (never know… Seattle could have a shortage) and power bars. Why did I buy so many?! If you can’t tell… there’s 8 there.

Seriously? Did you really just read a list of the things I’m packing and taking with me on this trip? Weirdo… haha but seriously… that’s kind of weird. Good thing I didn’t pack anything I should be embarrassed about.

This trip is serving as my winter break. I worked 70 hours a week between my three jobs for almost 2 months straight (I missed a few days from illness) and so I wanted to get out of town and just see some friends I don’t normally see. This weekend will be extra awesome because the University of Washington is hosting a track meet at the indoor Dempsey Stadium and many familiar faces will be competing. And shortly after that, ABS divisional championships will be held at the Seattle Bouldering Project.

It’s going to be a very fast paced and restless weekend. But I don’t think I’d have it any other way. ;)

Expect some blogging/vlogging along the way.

James

P.S. Check out my friend Kyle’s blog and show him some support. If you’re familiar with the Ninjas Doing Mundane Things, he’s the other ninja and also the guy that got me climbing… he’s one of the people I’ll be spending the weekend with.

Take care guys and I want you to know that I’ve been rocking the soundtrack for the Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time while writing this.

Nike Commercial

You got excited when you read that didn’t you? I know I did. When the email arrived telling me I had an audition for a Nike Commercial… HOLY SWEETNESS! Is this it?! Wait… Football? It’s a football commercial? I don’t know anything about football…

In fact, my friends often make fun of me when it comes to football, basketball, baseball… pretty much the American big name sports. They relate me to J.D. from that Sitcom Scrubs… and I quote “I like it when they do well at the game that they play.” That’s J.D. and that’s what my friends think of my sports knowledge.

And it’s not far off. I can throw a football, shoot hoops (though apparently that’s not what kids call it these days), and hit a baseball. But I don’t really know the rules. It wasn’t important to me when I was little. So how did I end up here? In a freezing indoor turf field with these super fancy cleats on my feet?

I have an agent. You know… for trying to be famous and stuff… she gets me auditions and I show up. Typically I don’t know anything about them when I arrive. I just go with minimal instructions as to how to prepare.

Also, just a heads up in case you don’t know… I’m 5’11” and weigh about 167 lbs. This easily made me not only the shortest person at the audition, but also the lightest by about 40 or 50 lbs. yep… kind of a trip.

3 minutes to warm up. Are you fucking kidding me?! I see the guy before me try to tear down the field in tennis shoes. He cuts right, left, spins, turns 180 degrees, sprints back and dives. It’s slow and it’s sloppy. He does it one more time. All in all, with everything he did, probably 3 minutes on the turf.

I’m up. Barely warm enough to register on a thermometer. This is going to be rough… but I don’t like slow. It leaves a bad taste in my pride. I say my name for the camera. Who represents me. What’s my Football experience. Oh that? None. I did run track in college. Neat. He hands me a football… shit, am I holding this right? No idea, doesn’t matter.

They want some model shots of the nifty cleats on my feet. I pose. My little tiny calves not quite the monsters they once were… 20 lbs ago. What they appeared to be after 9 straight months of hell, grooming them to be nothing but raw torque and finness.

My legs were the sacrifice I made for climbing. My freakishly fast, super bouncy tree trunks were nothing but dead weight on my finger tips and if I had to lose weight… why not give it up in the muscles I wasn’t using? When I finished track, I promised myself I wouldn’t run anymore if I didn’t find a way to enjoy it. I still have not found a way to fall in love with running again. So I don’t. The legs are gone.

I’m on the line, poised. No feelings of anxiety, or pressure to perform. Just do it. Don’t hold back. Vroom. The man with the camera says “go” and I take off. The cleats are light. Bouncy. I pop from step to step. I don’t feel balanced like I should. Like my spikes would let me feel.

First cut to the right. Dime edge turn. What the hell just happened? I just… I uh… I’m still going. Hardly any speed is lost. Second turn. Step, pop, my feet are moving and my body is at a loss for these shoes. What am I doing? Spin, boom, done. No clue how it looked on camera, but I think I just invented a ballet move. Forward to the cone, turn 180 and sprint back to the start… and ready to drop hips? NO! I’m already through. My weight didn’t shift, I just ripped my whole body away. My legs are leaving the rest of me behind. How is this happening? In flats, I’d sink in, brace for it, my quads/glutes/hams would all fire and explode to propel me in the new direction… but I didn’t. I just went…

I’m on the home stretch. Hold together. Dive across the pads. Easy. I fly through the air, careen over the pad and slam into the wall. Sweet.

Simon (that dude with the camera?) yells at me “Run down, grab the ball, lets do it again.” I hop up, quickly jog down… wait. Lungs are ok. Heart rate is fine… why am I choking? Man… I forgot breakfast didn’t I? And that Mountain Dew isn’t helping things either. Congratulations, you just bought yourself an afternoon of butt lock and lactic acid overload.

The second one, I managed to hold it together. I was more prepared for the shoes to do their magic. I reacted better. Got tighter on the cones and felt I improved… until the final stretch. The mad dash home. That sickening feeling in my throat gurgles up. The cold air in my lungs is burning. A very strong dwarf grabs both of my butt cheeks and crushes them in his hands. That dwarf is lactic acid. That dwarf is butt lock. I don’t dive across the finish onto the pad so much as I just eat shit and slide face first across the line.

They say thank you. I give them their pretty shoes back and I thank them for their time. I grab my stuff. I head to the car… and then curl up in a ball next to it… waiting to vomit. It’s pooling inside me. my head is light. Stand up, you shit. Are you this weak? Is this who you are? I didn’t peg you for someone who lays down and waits for the shaking to stop. I stand up. Don’t let your knees lock. The lights dim… oh here we go… don’t you black out. I squat to the ground. Focus on your breathing. At least do that for yourself.

I remember you. The demon inside me. I hate you. I hate who I become when you get involved. I’ve found peace since you went to sleep. I don’t need you now. I don’t want you.

I miss my legs. I miss being the monster. But I don’t miss everything that went with it. The price I paid in lost time with my family. How I spoke to myself. How I treated myself. How I treated those that cared about me. 3 minutes on a field and that little bastards back. He’s here to remind me I’ll never be good enough. I’ll never be enough.

He taught me many things. How to ignore pain. How to find my limits. But through him, I never did anything for love. I never did it because I LOVED what I was doing. I did it because I had to. I had to know… know what? I still don’t know.

Are you confused yet? This took a weird and unexpected turn didn’t it… welcome to my world. The confusion. The lack of answers. The demon taught me many things but left me spinning my wheels.

I don’t miss him. I enjoy the calm I find without him. I’ve learned just how far I can go without him, and much stronger I am for it.

Besides… football is a stupid sport anyways. :p

One year of climbing

It’s been a year. Well… not quite. Still have a couple days before I’m officially able to measure my time in more than just months. I’ve learned so much, but yet I’m still a little kid. I have a double tomorrow… so I really should be sleeping. I’ll make this brief.

I shot these clips to get my friend Kyle amped for next week. I head up to Seattle to hang out (and climb, of course.) and I wanted to share these with him. I’m excited. He should be too. The end. Haha

But as I watched these and prepped to put them online, I thought back to my goals for last year. It’s not often I fail when I set goals. They may be aggressive, but they’re generally realistic. My average for success was high. …Until climbing.

I wanted a v7 by the end of September, 2011. It didn’t happen. I got my first v7 on October 3^rd. I won’t rehash it, but you can find it on this page. Sorry the link’s on that page might be broken. I made a hasty decision and pulled my climbing videos.

I had planned to have my first v8 by the end of my first year. But in the last couple months I really had to take an honest look at my climbing. My sloppy footwork. My inability to read a route. My reliance on beta and finding something that was exactly “my style.” And that wasn’t the climber I wanted to be.

I took a good long look at that goal and asked myself if I could handle postponing it with the hope that I would build a better foundation for my climbing. The answer was eventually yes. I stepped back. Looked at my flaws and really tried to tackle them head on.

Over the next few months I really noticed a change. My breathing was more controlled, my balance was getting better. There was power in each foot placement. My onsight ability jumped from v5 to v6. V7’s we’re looking much less devastating. Granted… this is all relative.

So as I checked out these videos, I was proud of the progress I’ve made. The 2 v7’s I climbed tonight weren’t my style. Both extremely balance-y and much more technical than most would consider my preference… they just felt smooth and controlled.

So I’ve been climbing a year. I didn’t achieve every goal. But I’m satisfied in knowing this was a good decision. And I’ll benefit from it in the rest of my climbing life.

Thanks for sticking it out with me. :)

James

The stats:

2011- January

195 lbs (~88kg)

2012- January

168 lbs (~76kg)