I had a catharsis of sorts over the weekend and wanted to share it.
A friend and I went to boulder on some "sh", private land Saturday.
The owner's truck was at the parking spot so we opted for something
else. We warmed up and then set our sites on an ominous hi-ball on
some choice limestone. It's Veasy for about 15 feet but at about that
point there is a hard committing move probably about V5-6 followed by onsite climbing which looked easy, topping out at about 35 feet. Anyway, we tried and tried and we both kept chickening out and not really going for it. Going for it required some mad body tension off a pretty slopey 2 1/2 finger pocket to a hold we weren't sure about it looked like it could be slopey or positive? On about my 8th/last try I said to myself what the hell, I"m going for it. I hit a paltry intermediate crimp and then hit the "good" hold we were shooting for. It turned out to be sandy but good and the next hold was a jug. I was at about 25+ feet up now,
very steep and one more hard move to do as I needed to get my left
foot onto something, anything. I noticed a dish with an incut lip that would work and brought my left foot up to it ever so slowly as I was at the steepest part of the climb and if my other foot cut I would be taking a fall I didn't want to think about. Now this is where I started moving in slow motion and the world's worries and what not vanished away. I hadn't been in this space for a few years (last time was on a
dicey ice lead). The climbing eased but it was dirty and foreign and I wasn't really prepared for the endorphin/adrenalin load my body was supplying. A little singer action was starting on the legs so my relax mantra kicked into high gear as I tried to quietly remind myself that fear was the mind-killer, so I could quit climbing in slow motion and get to the top. At this point I was about 30-2 feet up and about 2-3 feet
from the top and I went for a slightly suspect jug (something inside said watch out). The hold instantly broke and somehow I adjusted and was stable enough to stop the inevitable. My spotter down below groaned when he saw the softball size rock coming towards him as I'm sure he thought something larger was about to follow. I let out a primitive yell
at that point (I never yell while climbing or at least not since I sent a .12 at the Motherlode) and went to the top. Scared the piss out of three folks who were hiking around at the top. One guy looked like he had soilded himself after experiencing my victory scream. I apologized for scaring the shit out of them and then rode the buzz down to the base of the problem. I had been having a rough week at work/ challenging relationship management (for lack of a better description) and even that morning before I went I was questioning the worth of life.. what's the point.. why bother. I wasn't the least bit suicidal just bored and a little depressed. I hadn't hi-balled like that in years and don't recall trying anything this committing/difficult before, especially unroped. It turned out to be just what I needed as I felt rejuventated, a gift had been presented and I accepted. No Vinsane problem had been sent but it was one of my best accompolishments on rock in my 13 or so years of service and more importantly some serious attitude adjustment. I'm not sure why I needed to go so close to the edge to get the revival but I suppose we're extreme creatures, we climbers and sometimes it takes exactly that to find meaning in the dissonance.
Thanks for listening-- have fun searching