Pro-Sports

Another journal entry written back in 2004:

My first day back to the gym in after three weeks turned out to be more demoralizing than I had anticipated. Despite all the mental preparation I counseled myself with that I ought not to expect too much, I still found myself devastatingly disheartened by my performance.

I know it was sheer arrogance on my part to expect that I should maintain my level of climbing fitness and form without the regimented training schedule I used to sustain. Even so, I found my dignity rapidly reducing to the level of a petulant child throwing a temper tantrum because she couldn’t have her way and this was all because of an annoying little coloured shape screwed into a wall. I wanted to kick the wall and howl in frustration despite the number of times I had warned myself that it could be a painful road back to my previous climbing level.

When I step back and look at this with a rational eye, it was actually quite amusing, but there were no laughs for me when I was floundering on many of my routes.

After a couple of attempts - okay, so it was more than a couple of tries, it was more like numerous pig-headed struggles - I finally ditched the difficult routes and went back to basics. Oh thank God I could still climb a 5C! But wait a minute, what’s that feeling of tightness building up in my arms like the creep of lactic acid pervading through my muscles? Could it be that I was getting pumped on a 5C? It was agonising to find myself labouring on a route I knew I could so easily breeze through only a few weeks back. I felt like a rejected lover spurned by my mate for my lack of attentiveness. I had been away from the wall for far too long and now it was rejecting me. It didn’t love me anymore and this was how it was expressing its disapproval.

My mind started racing through all the reasons why I was climbing poorly. Naturally, it started off with all the usual excuses, like: I was tired because I did body pump the day before, I was tired because I hadn’t been sleeping well, I was tired because I was coming down with a bug… The list went on. Then I moved on to more concrete excuses: I had gained three kilos over the last few months of low activity to no activity, my finger strength was deteriorating, my balance was out, my stamina was down… This list was quite long as well.

As usual, the immediate prescription I wanted to give myself was initially an overdose - lose five kilos in the next week and climb seven days a week until I was back in form. When I returned to a more coherent level of consciousness, I reminded myself that slow and steady won the race. I was trying to overkill when fun has always been the key element to making big progress. If I enjoy the journey, the end arrives more quickly. Even though I was crushed by my first day back in the climbing scene, there were some good points to be taken away from this experience.

Ordinary, I would be afraid of falling because I was afraid of the feeling of the fall or that I might get hurt. When I was climbing, it no longer bothered me that my belayer was not conscientiously taking up my slack and that my falls were bigger than the regular ones I was used to. Oh course, it also helped that I had a considerable amount of trust and faith that my belayer would not deck me. What I now feared was that I might not be able to complete the route. Okay, so there was also a dark cloud with this silver lining.

In the rare moments when I was climbing well, I remembered how much I love the feeling of connecting the moves and flowing on the wall. I felt the pleasure of being able to link the steps in a dance routine and I could feel the old familiar emotions of gratification. Yes, the passion to climb was still there.

Lesson number three: sometimes a weakness can develop other areas of strength. During a particularly vicious tussle on a route and not being able to make the move I would routinely produce, I discovered an alternative move that provided me passage through this particular crux. I was developing my technique by trying out new moves because I no longer had the strength to rely on my usual repertoire of moves.

So all in all, a bittersweet return to the climbing gym, but nevertheless, a promise of a sunrise to await me with a little more time and effort.

The attached photo is back from the days of when I was climbing 5Cs. It was taken by courtesy of the Thin Man (thanks Mike). I thought a gentle reminder might serve as the fuel for rekindling the dogged tenacity that I used to climb with. I still believe that if it’s worth my while, it’s worth my heart and soul.

Popularity: 14% [?]

Trackback URI | Comments RSS