Definitely a love/not so love, relationship...

June 30th, 2010: Some climbers call it “the sewing machine”, others call it “the Elvis”…I call it another case of, “what am I doing here?”

I spent my past few days at a climbing refuge for rock climbers with the idea that I would be taking classes to add some skills to my current natural monkeylike abilities. But, it ended up being more like here is a harness, some shoes and there is the rock you are going to climb following it with the silly question asking me if know how to make a figure eight knot. I wanted to tell him that could tie a good granny knot…and of course, didn’t say anything but, "no".

Yes this was another case of, “what am I doing here?,” for my first climb especially when I didn’t see a place to grab to keep from falling except to wedge my leg in a rock and hug the outer walls to rest thinking if the person belaying me below was even paying attention as they smoked their non-tobacco cigarettes. This is the time my leg began to perform “the sewing machine” and/or “the Elvis,” – whatever they want to call it, I was unable to hide my rapid leg movement until I internally removed myself from where I was. Today was definitely a day I would have liked a helmet whether it was a climbing helmet, bicycle helmet, hockey helmet or even the very same helmet Neil Armstrong wore as he took his first step on the moon.

Finally after clearing all – more like, clearing enough of my crazy thoughts…I managed to free my leg with some effort and slowly pulled myself higher by my elongated finger tips and toes. Once reaching the top, the internal reward made it clear on why I do silly things like this, exhausted… as my adrenaline has taken a beating on me.

Climb after climb, they became more and more technical but easier as my confidence grew and my system on telling the person below belaying me to please pay attention when I did not feel confident with my lack of stability on some portions of the climb as I clung to the wall to potentially reduce the distance of my fall.

After today I rediscovered that climbing is definitely a love/not so love, relationship for me. Once on top, I love it and once clinging on the side seconds away from falling…I not so love it.

It is always easier to go up…than down

July 29th, 2009: My hand shaking, as I look up trying to find a stable rock to grab onto…seeing nothing, I stretch my arm up above my head, feeling and hoping for anything. “I must not look down, I must not look down, l must not look down” I told myself…as I look down, squinting - as if this is going to somehow make things better. I see nothing below me but my two heels protruding out of the cliff. At this point I was about 212.3 feet in the air clinging to the side of the rock face. With no helmet, rope or safety equipment, I am attempting to follow my friends (that also have a limited amount of brain cells) to the top of this gargantuan rock outside, Quito. Thinking that I should have stuck with my original decision, to meet them on the other side, but I was now committed with no option to turn around, since it is always easier to go up…than down.

Glued to the rock, I could not get the thought out of my mind on what happened to me over the years? I thought I use to be quite brave, doing almost anything…not thinking too much about what could happen. Now, there seems to be such a struggle doing activities that may be questionable. I am curious if what I am fighting is…common sense.

Ledge after ledge, I was hoping there was some other route back. Trying not to climb too close to the others above me in case they fell to their deaths, I was disadvantage on not knowing the way they were taking. I had to get the fear out of me…this was not a wise place to be scared. To help defeat my fears…at first I thought that if two women can do this, I should be able to – that didn’t even come close to working. I then thought of something that is typically true and it ever so briefly made me feel better. If two women were doing this, it must not be that bad because they would have been the ones smart enough to say we shouldn’t - later thinking they must have been two lesbians who play the man’s role.

Meeting a guy who was coming from a different route, told us that he saw the way we were going up and thought we were crazy - definition of crazy in this context meant…stupid. I wanted to agree but I held that thought to myself. Now knowing that we didn’t have to go down the same way we came up – not to mention going the way of someone who thought we were crazy…I was relieved. This relief was brief…lasting only until we began following him down after reaching the peak. Seeing an easier way down that he didn’t want to capitalize on, I separated from his route with the others. Crossing back onto his path we were now in ahead of him. Standing there…we look up and see him dangling above us, as his feet were trying to feel some footing below him. Not wanting to be the person to break his fall, I observed him from a distance as I quickly I pulled out my camera and started recording the event on video…while the others pulled out their cameras to take photos. They too knew this was going to be a good photo opportunity…if he falls. Calculating a 92% chance of him falling…I was going to be there to capture it.

Waiting for the fall, somehow – I don’t know how…he made it down safely, beating the odds. He must have had someone - no, not someone…a congregation praying for him. I went up to him after and patted him on the back for defying mathematics. Once again I thought, it is always easier to go up…than down.