The ideas are swirling because I’ve lost focus. I don’t know where the energy should go. For a while the summer was still in full swing and I could exhaust myself with long days hiking, bolting and trying to stay busy.

Winter has come with limited light and a seasonal sickness that prevents me from firing on all cylinders.

There was a day, with calm, with exhilaration. The first day in a long time. I watched the orange cord as it fell away from the wall with me, still slack, and then in a different perspective I felt my falling mass come to a stop. #$!@ I had fallen. No send.

Apathy, confidence, commitment, bull-headed determination… Fucks. How many do we give? Too many? Too Few?

Jon moved much more smoothly into the 2nd crux, having barely made it through the first. A final huck and the jug was in his hand. All notions pointed towards a summit bid, and soon enough he was there.

I followed suit. Somehow relaxed and calm. The moves providing the feeling I enjoy most. A subtle hint of control, but with threads of doubt and the need for proper execution and accuracy. The ascent was earned through a dance. The choreography had to be followed and the little voices of fear embraced.

For all the routes that I’ve redpointed I still face doubt and fear. Especially when the holds get smaller and trust and self confidence are more important. There would be no pump, no real issue with fitness, just a need to execute and try hard. The route wasn’t easy by any means, but I still didn’t believe until I was clipping the anchors.

A solid reminder that going out and being open to failure can be rewarded.

Stoked for more!


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