I went rock climbing with a friend of mine this weekend. It inspired me to tell the world (and by the world I mean the two people and one quadruped that read this blog) what it is that I love about climbing. Sure, that sounds like it could be a cheesy “what I did last summer” type essay that any half-stoned high school student could write, but let’s not forget that the half-stoned high school students of today are the… mostly stoned thirty-year-olds living on their parent’s couches tomorrow. I guess that really don’t help my point any. Moving on.
In order to tell you exactly what I like most about climbing, it’s necessary for me to tell you several things I only kind of like about climbing.
1. The ambiance. Shear rock walls (the kind most climbers are interested in) are normally found in areas that could be described as beautiful, that is, if one was fond of pointing out the obvious. This is a bonus of the sport, but not why I climb. You see, most of my climbing hours are spent in a gym climbing plastic holds bolted to man-made walls. The nearest real rock is an hour and a half away, and even if it were closer, it rains 364 days a year here. And that’s why God made rock climbing gyms. They are not beautiful, but they are functional.
2. Communing with the rock. This is just plain stupid. I’ve talked to climbers who have told me they climb to commune with the rock, or that climbing makes them feel at one with the rock. Personally, I’ve never felt a need to commune with an inanimate object. And if I was going to commune with an inanimate object, it certainly wouldn’t be a rock. A stapler, maybe, but not a rock.
3. Community. Rock climbing is a reasonably social sport (at least, sport climbing is). This, much like the ambiance bit, is a nice bonus. I’ve met some very cool people climbing. But, seeing as I’m an introvert and not social by nature (they go together but are not really the same thing), that’s hardly a good enough reason for me to take up the sport.
4. Communing with God. He made the rocks. I climb the rocks. I’d like to think of that as some pretty slick teamwork, but I don’t actively think about Him while I’m on the rocks. Before and after, sure, but that’s really just me hiking to and from the crag. I could make that hike faster and with less wheezing if I left my climbing gear at home.
So what do I really love about climbing? Nothing. Actually, thinking about nothing. When I’m on a hard route, the kind of route where it takes every ounce of my strength and my entire concentration to keep from whipping off the rock, I can’t think about anything else. All the stuff going on at work, the way I really blew it with that last pretty girl I talked to, that bill I needed to pay two weeks ago, all of that stuff vanishes. All the cares and fears of the world are put on hold. When all that I am, all that I have, is being used to keep me on that rock, to keep me going up instead of spinning down, I simply don’t have time for anything else. When it’s all clicking, I don’t even have time to think in words. What I get instead are just a series of images flickering in my mind. I don’t think, “Right hand up high, drop the knee, shift the weight to the left foot, keep the core tight, left hand up….” I just see myself doing it seconds before it happens.
In short, climbing, to me, is an escape. The world is full of them. I could go to the movies, read a book, drink heavily, or take up drugs. All of those are escapes, some more drastic than others. (Obviously reading books should be saved as a very last resort.) The major advantage of my particular escape is that it leaves me stronger physically, and recharged mentally. In the world of escapes, that’s a win-win.
So that’s why I did what I did last summer.
Editor’s note: The blog “It’s kinda confusing right now” in no way endorses smoking pot, doing drugs, getting drunk, or being a washed-up stoner sleeping on your parent’s couch. We also do not endorse reading as we feel it has the potential to bring people into contact with questionable material… such as the blog “It’s kinda confusing right now.”
Editor’s note about the editor’s note: If I have to explain to you which part of that last note was sarcastic, you probably shouldn’t read this blog.
In order to tell you exactly what I like most about climbing, it’s necessary for me to tell you several things I only kind of like about climbing.
1. The ambiance. Shear rock walls (the kind most climbers are interested in) are normally found in areas that could be described as beautiful, that is, if one was fond of pointing out the obvious. This is a bonus of the sport, but not why I climb. You see, most of my climbing hours are spent in a gym climbing plastic holds bolted to man-made walls. The nearest real rock is an hour and a half away, and even if it were closer, it rains 364 days a year here. And that’s why God made rock climbing gyms. They are not beautiful, but they are functional.
2. Communing with the rock. This is just plain stupid. I’ve talked to climbers who have told me they climb to commune with the rock, or that climbing makes them feel at one with the rock. Personally, I’ve never felt a need to commune with an inanimate object. And if I was going to commune with an inanimate object, it certainly wouldn’t be a rock. A stapler, maybe, but not a rock.
3. Community. Rock climbing is a reasonably social sport (at least, sport climbing is). This, much like the ambiance bit, is a nice bonus. I’ve met some very cool people climbing. But, seeing as I’m an introvert and not social by nature (they go together but are not really the same thing), that’s hardly a good enough reason for me to take up the sport.
4. Communing with God. He made the rocks. I climb the rocks. I’d like to think of that as some pretty slick teamwork, but I don’t actively think about Him while I’m on the rocks. Before and after, sure, but that’s really just me hiking to and from the crag. I could make that hike faster and with less wheezing if I left my climbing gear at home.
So what do I really love about climbing? Nothing. Actually, thinking about nothing. When I’m on a hard route, the kind of route where it takes every ounce of my strength and my entire concentration to keep from whipping off the rock, I can’t think about anything else. All the stuff going on at work, the way I really blew it with that last pretty girl I talked to, that bill I needed to pay two weeks ago, all of that stuff vanishes. All the cares and fears of the world are put on hold. When all that I am, all that I have, is being used to keep me on that rock, to keep me going up instead of spinning down, I simply don’t have time for anything else. When it’s all clicking, I don’t even have time to think in words. What I get instead are just a series of images flickering in my mind. I don’t think, “Right hand up high, drop the knee, shift the weight to the left foot, keep the core tight, left hand up….” I just see myself doing it seconds before it happens.
In short, climbing, to me, is an escape. The world is full of them. I could go to the movies, read a book, drink heavily, or take up drugs. All of those are escapes, some more drastic than others. (Obviously reading books should be saved as a very last resort.) The major advantage of my particular escape is that it leaves me stronger physically, and recharged mentally. In the world of escapes, that’s a win-win.
So that’s why I did what I did last summer.
Editor’s note: The blog “It’s kinda confusing right now” in no way endorses smoking pot, doing drugs, getting drunk, or being a washed-up stoner sleeping on your parent’s couch. We also do not endorse reading as we feel it has the potential to bring people into contact with questionable material… such as the blog “It’s kinda confusing right now.”
Editor’s note about the editor’s note: If I have to explain to you which part of that last note was sarcastic, you probably shouldn’t read this blog.
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