Climbing Again

Day 1:

Monday July 2^nd, marked 3 months since my accident.

In physical therapy, I worked really hard to push myself, hoping to be allowed back on the wall. Monday was the day they checked to see where my improvement was.

They cleared me. And after an exhausting PT session, dinner and some rest, I booted up, chalked up and very gently checked out my arm.

It was hard. I felt so weak. Not just in my bad arm, but my baby soft fingertips, and every muscle in my back.

I felt sweat drip down everything. I was overcompensating to protect my fragile bicep.

My friend Joel from Canada was with me and we climbed until he was torn to pieces (I was done much earlier than he was.). And I was sore. 2 days later, I could feel aches in my back. And the pangs of abuse in the bellies of my forearms.

But it felt good. Not “lusty” like it used to. But just good to move. I’m still months away from seeing the true use of that muscle again. And maybe even longer before I trust it again.

But that’s ok. Baby steps.

Day 2:

I climbed again on Friday. This time with ropes. This went much smoother. The long balancy low end problems were much less stressful. I worked through several grades (stopping at 5.7) and I’m pretty certain I could go up some more…

Day 3:

I slacklined today. I’m terrible at it. I have good balance. So it must be the slackline that made me fall constantly. It was good work and fun and the friends there were awesome and patient.

However, when it came time to climb I felt a weird anxiety creep into my stomach. There were so many people there. The top rope walls were littered with people and I couldn’t help but shy away from climbing… as if somehow, they all might watch me on these low end problems and judge me. That maybe they would get frustrated because I would need to do laps instead of hop on, do my route, hop off.

Where’d this come from? I don’t know. But I got so nervous wearing my harness. I kept thinking “I’ll use the autobelay in the corner. Then I won’t bother anytone.” Like some how I was lame, or somehow this awesome community might shun me like a leper.

So I went to the boulder wall. At least here, my friends were climbing. I wasted time, stalling, talking to people about their workouts. I was justifying it by “helping” them prep for comps later this year. And then I climbed.

I think I did all of the v0’s again. Definitely had more energy this time, so I did a few of the v1’s. This was supposed to be my warm up. But every time I looked to the wall I began to panic and climb another boulder problem.

I repeated this until I was tapped. Until I was pushing that line of “too much.” The line I used to love because I wanted to know my limits. However “knowing” my limits know could mean irrepairable damage to my bicep. I choked on routes. I over thought v1’s… I felt my blood boiling. I heard someone say “V2. Cake warm up.” And I wanted to growl at him. My head got foggy and the demon inside me started to show his ugly face.

I was in pain. Not physically, my arm was fine. Fatigued, but solid otherwise. My pride was hurting. It was heavy and it weighed me down like a bear hanging on my back. The struggle was knowing what I am capable of, and simply not being able to do it.

I’m not a coward. But the constant hesitiation I felt whenever I went to use my arm, was maddening. Moves that aren’t in my playbook right now, simply because I don’t have faith in my arm.

I packed up my shoes, said goodbye and left. Bouldering days are going to be difficult. And I’m sure I’ll have more days like this. Days that make me not want to go back at all. Days that make me find safety in my desk chair, letting dust collect on my weights and my rings and my pull up bar.

I’m not a coward. But having even a moment of weakness like that makes me sick to my stomach and angry with myself.

The real test is in doing what I have to do today, so that later, I can do what I want to do.

          

"shichi ten hakki"