The Project Dilemma

Oh, what a strange way to live a life. My friend Mike tried to enumerate what it must be like for a person who doesn't climb were they to describe the whole dance: "So, you put your fingers into cracks in the rock and twist them until they bleed...?"

In a sense, yeah. But trust me, it's more than that. A little blood is just superficial damage. It's all worth it. Climbing is the most valuable way I've ever found to spend my time. I love (most of) the people I climb with. Many areas are stunning in their natural beauty. And the act itself is a version of yoga. Our bodies contort into these particular positions that are unique and esoteric. If we lose balance, coming out of the "pose," gravity calls. We've got to have strong bodies to do this, but in reality, mental focus and emotional control are equally important. If you don't clear away the clutter, climbing's impossible. Ego, desire, stress...they're all weights to be discarded.

And working routes or boulder problems that are at the edge of what feels possible that day, month, or year? Those "projects" that become the object of obsession? Those are headstands, handstands, the splits. They're levitation. They're magic. Take something that feels impossibly difficult, and slowly chip away at it. Learn subtle ways to move your hips as you stand on tip-toe, or the best place for your thumb on a divot or rock. Enmesh yourself with a tiny piece of the physical world. Borrow a little piece of it, make it your love, your playground. Now you've got a project.

Sometimes that desire to eventually succeed, that same weight that only holds you down, gets painfully intense. I wanted to do Table of Colors at The Red, but I had a deadline looming and wasn't able to learn everything I needed before the bell rang, ending my time in Kentucky. I had to walk away, unrequited. Right now, I'm hugely focused on a route up in Boulder Canyon called Vasodialator. Indeed, it gets the sanguine juice flowing. I've got to do it quickly, though, or I'll have to walk away.

I spend so much time projecting in Rifle, but it's too cold out there this time of year. In my back yard is a granite canyon, so far removed in character from the limestone out west which eats my summer and fall. Up this local drainage only a few minutes from my door, smattered with igneous faces, Vasodialator rests like a sphinx. The aspect faces south, so the sun will catch the stone and warm the holds even if the air temperature is wintry. Assuming, that is, that the sun is shining.

The last few times I'd been up to try the route, those necessary UV rays have played coy, hiding behind the clouds like nervous teens against the wall at a school dance. Come play soon, because I'm looking like an ass out here on the floor, shaking my best Electric Slide in solitude. I've tried in vain recently, knowing that my time, again, is limited. The rock face that holds Vasodialator closes on February 1 in order to allow nesting birds the chance to rear young in privacy. I want to get it done, but that mental pressure I'm putting on myself might well be the very thing that's keeping me from success.

I certainly can't blame my partners. Blake and Jason, two good buddies, have each offered to hike up to Blob Rock (such a terrible name) on their off days to give me a needed belay on the route. I can't sufficiently express how much I appreciate their sacrifice. The hike is steep, the belay is cold, and the rewards have, so far, been non existent. This weekend, it looks like I'll have my final chance to get up there, again with Jason, and try to relax as I do battle with my own personal nemesis before the birds take it away.

***

The physical act of climbing has drawn me in and stolen my attention. At the end of the day, though, it is largely a metaphor. The Project Dilemma is yet another lens through which I can view my life, hopefully gaining perspective and improving. Here I want something so badly, but in wanting it, I overgrip, hasten my breath, and have no choice but to feel gravity's insatiable grip.

At a party last week, I saw my longtime friend Josh Finkelstein. I always enjoy his company and conversation, but with his residence in Denver and mine in Boulder, we don't cross paths as often as I'd like. At our last meeting, we were catching up, laughing and telling jokes and stories. Before I knew it, my mind was distancing itself from the catch up session as I planned on the next time Josh and I could get out and climb together, or perhaps grab a beer.

Back to the present, PattyP! I had to let go of that desire to plan the future and, once able, I was back in the company of old pals.