on to the next one

As it has in the past, the blog has taken a back seat to other priorities. But I'm back, re-energized, and excited to catalog the weeks since the 24 Hour competition. After returning from Arkansas, I spent some time in Southern Illinois and Eastern Kentucky lining up various short-term and long-term projects. 

The season started off with a whimper, not a bang, and a short visit to Southern Illinois left me feeling lukewarm. I'll spare the details, but the bottom line is that the season hasn't made it's appearance in So Ill just yet.

But rather than waiting around for ideal conditions to shore up, I switched gears and made my way to Kentucky- the first time since Labor Day. I spent a week at the Red, and during my visit I got closer to making my long term goal of shutting down the Motherlode a reality. I was able to make some head way on the Undertow Wall with second go red-points of Flux Capacitor (5.12d) and Harvest (5.12d), and on-sights of Resurrection (5.12c) and Team Wilson (5.12d)- both considered by most to be tough for the grade. Now, the only line left on the Undertow is the infamous Tuna Town (5.12d)- a route which I am allegedly saving for a proper on-sight attempt. Knowing that I only have one shot to do it on-sight has me putting it off. I've punted on easier on-sight attempts, so I figure I'll get on it when I feel up to it. The pressure!

 
The rest of my stay was devoted to two projects that I added to the list this Spring, but was unable to try. I began my campaign on the Madness Cave earlier this year with red-points of 40 Ounces of Justice (5.13a) and BOHICA (5.13b). This week I was able to check Flour Power (5.13b) off the list as well. 

As I've written in previous posts, climbing in the cave is taxing. The routes in the cave are 100 feet of relentlessly steep sandstone. More moves means more opportunities to bobble, and, worse yet, more work if you manage to punt near the end of the pitch. To add to the stress, I hadn't really pinned down the final crux on the route- which happens to be 2 bolts from the anchor. I had two conceivable options, neither of which I was looking forward to doing on point. I was faced with either implementing a dodgy hand-heel match that would all but guarantee a stunning wobbler if it cut loose, or a long accuracy move that would have slim chances of success if I was unable to check the vicious barn door. 

Fortunately for me, the day I returned to the Lode for the red-point, Monique Forester and Whitney Boland were working on Flour Power and its extension, Pushing Up Daisies (5.13c). They were able to give me an excellent method for negotiating the final boulder problem, and while I did have reservations about trying a new sequence on the fly, it was clear that the success rate of their approach would be much higher than either of my own. Thanks guys!

I was glad that I put Flour Power down on my first proper red-point attempt. It was a considerable source of stress for me, so to have it done early on in the week gave me some breathing room to jump on my other project at the Dark Side. Elephant Man (5.13b) is a serious bit of rock climbing. While no single boulder problem is harder than another, there happens to be one at every bolt. Up to the 6th bolt (roughly two thirds of the climb). With no rests.  With the worst holds being part of the exit. Awesome. Conditions hadn't quite lined up for this pitch, but I was able to one hang it high despite the unexpected heat that dominated the majority of my stay.  Once things cool off I'll be back to make that last push and clip chains!

Projecting is an intriguing process - to be so invested, maniacally devoted even, to a single thought, to finally make it a reality, and then to walk away from it seems like neurotic behavior, doesn't it? From inception to execution, the process can take days, weeks, sometimes months or even years. Conversely, the act of red-pointing a project only takes a few minutes, and its hold lasts only moments. The feeling of victory, at least for me, is incredibly fleeting. When it's over, I'm left thinking about the next pitch, the next project. Often times the thrill of success only lasts while I'm being lowered from the anchors. As soon as I untie, I'm on to the next one.

It's that intensity, that polarity, that I find so compelling. It's interesting how quickly we forget our successes, and how long we remember our failures. I can't count how many nights I've lost sleep pouring over the moves in my head, suffered from the anxiety that accompanies the thought of failure, or woken up with my hands drenched with sweat. At times it can test your motivation and your resiliency for the sport, but that's part of the process. Finding ways to balance success and failure continues to bring me back- not the numbers, not the notoriety, not the accolades. 

I often think that your status as a climber is dictated not by what you've done, but by what you're doing. Recently I've been feeling a bit washed up. A series of lackluster performances had checked my vitality- hard. So it was nice to rally and turn things around. I had a rough go of it this Summer, and I felt as though I had taken huge steps back in terms of my performance, despite spending months diligently rehabbing my injuries and training my weaknesses. I don't consider myself to be an incredible athlete or a natural talent. I don't have any of the traditional strengths- power, fitness, or technical sensibilities. What little success I've had in these disciplines, I've had to work incredibly hard to achieve. My career has been fueled by failure, and countless hours of suffering at the crag and in the gym. When you put so much time and heart into something it feels good to succeed, but it's bound to feel even worse when you come up short. It is, however, important to shake these moments, to dig deeper, to use them to motivate you, and to inspire personal growth. I think my proclivity for suffering and my relentless drive seem to offset the disparities in my basic, physical attributes as a climber. In part, what makes most climbers perform at their best is having that obsession, that drive.

I'll be heading back to Kentucky soon, hopefully keeping positive vibes on high. On the whole, I'd say that the Fall season has started out well, and I'm excited to get back to the cliff. See you out there.