An Elegant Finger Shredding Dance

I have been climbing for a few years at this point in my life and I am still figuring out why I like to do it. Aside from being outside and getting extraordinary views there is something else that has drawn me to continue the sport. Each time I go, I discover one more piece to the puzzle of why I feel so drawn to vertical faces sparsely covered with handholds. This past weekend I was able to begin a summer project, and boy was it only a beginning. For those unfamiliar with the term 'project' in relation to rock climbing, let me explain. Basically, this is how it goes, you find a route that seems significantly beyond your abilities and try and climb it, a lot. Some projects take a matter of a few tries while others may take many many tries, accompanied by multiple falls. Long story short, it's a good way to push yourself to climb harder. Now, back to this weekend. I got on a route that I had watched a friend of mine climb back when I was in high school and thought, "that looks really hard." It has been in the back of my mind ever since I saw him climb it, almost taunting me at times. I knew at some point I would have to settle my mind and conquer this route. While climbing at the gym last week I felt that I was strong enough that I could take on the project. So the first chance I had to jump on it was this weekend and I jumped on it. It is a relatively short route at about 45 feet, but it is a 45 foot section of rock not soon to be forgotten.

The route goes straight up and past the little bush growing out of the horizontal crack

As I began the climb I tried to focus on the task at hand and bring all my strength to my finger tips. The holds on this route consist of nothing larger than about the width of a dime, and they are slopped negatively making them downright awful to hold onto. Halfway through the route I began to experience extreme fatigue and doubt. I was having an internal battle over whether or not I would even be able to get to the top, regardless of the fact that it wouldn't be clean (Clean: no falls). At that moment I found one of the puzzle pieces. I dug deep and realized that my body was capable of getting there, it was my mind that was limiting my body. It only saw the smooth face, not the sequence of holds leading the way to the top. I took a few deep breathes and continued climbing only to fall again and again and again. I began to believe my mind. My body, however, refused to believe that I couldn't make it. As I continued my struggle it was as if the rock was an old friend that I was becoming reacquainted with, each move began to feel natural despite being physically demanding and painful. This old friend was leading me through an intricate dance up the face, each move demanded all of my strength and focus. As I grunted my way through the crux of the climb I continued my battle to the top and had a sense of accomplishment rush through my veins. That was the end of my day, but the beginning of my summer project. This project won't be over until I climb it without a single fall, but I can say that I look forward to being further reacquainted to my old friend. For now, I'm going to take a week off from climbing due to finals and the fact that my finger tips are destroyed. My calluses were mostly torn off and some of my finger tips are a bit bruised.

On the rock face that day I realized that we often try to go our own way in life, but that doesn't work. At the crux of the climb I kept going left when in reality I needed to move right. I simply wasn't trusting the route to lead me to the top. I suppose with substantially more effort I could have eventually gone left, but in the end right is the way that was meant to be traveled. You might say that they both led to the top so what's the big deal? Well, maybe there isn't a big deal, but why make things more difficult than they need to be?