Day 1:
Monday July 2nd, 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"
