Knowing full well that if I did not start trying, I probably never would!
For those people who climb, they each have a personal reason as to why they do it. I am no different. My biggest regret in life, is not starting the sport till my late 30s.
But my reason, is not tangible nor clearly defined. But there is something in it that makes me feel good, maybe complete? I am not sure. But since my accident, I suffered with more then just the injury, but my confidence was low, I got totally engulfed with depression, I gained a lot of weight! So much in fact it was effecting my health in a very bad way.
Since the beginning of this year I started to focus on my health and my weight. In order for me to be able to climb, I knew I had to shed my extra weight. So my finger boards and chin up bars were put back into position over my bedroom door, much to the chagrin of my loving wife who is not to fussy of the ugly green hang board in the bedroom. And after several months I went from 230(ish) down to the weight I was when I fell which was 200. Mind you, its not muscle mass, so although I am the same weight as then I am a little softer then before. But I will get there.
Early last week it was warm, and it was sunny. I was bored and I was down in the basement cleaning up when I opened up my storage bin containing my climbing gear. It was all sitting there.. not touched in a few years. It was in that moment that I decided to get back out there and do it.
I have been avoiding going to the local climbing gym, I feel judged every time I go there cause of my injury. People looking at you, the "staff" hovering over you, watching you thinking that you need to be policed cause you could get hurt. So I said screw that. I will do it on my own.
I like climbing rope solo, I actually find it calming. I am on my own, with no distractions. No "Staff" telling me how to hold a rope, or giving me unsolicited meta and suggestions on where to place anchors. Its just me.. So off I went.
I dropped down to Flatrock, a local climbing hotspot near where I live and I went right to a place locals call Blood Bath. And I started to set up my anchors and my ropes. Although I was rusty and took 4 times as long to set things up, I found that I was feeling something I have not felt in a while. Anticipation of the climb!
So I started to climb. It was NOT a resounding success that I for. I got 4 or 5 feet off the ground and froze up. Afraid to make another move. Afraid I would fall! And prior to my injury I never had a fear of falling at all, ever! But this time was different.
You see, when I broke my ankle, I didn't fall a large distance, in fact it was far from dramatic or exciting. I started my fall, and before my rope was able to arrest my fall, my ankle got hooked in a crevice and snapped it off. Literally I fell maybe 2 or 3 feet in distance, but my foot stayed right where it was at when I first slipped. 99% of the time nothing would have happened.. I was a lucky man that day I guess. :(
So here I am, a few feet of the ground afraid of the "what if .." feeling. So I bailed.. back down to the ground I went. I sat down and wondered if I could still do this, and doubt started to set in.
My mood I guess was a reflection of the weather, as a cold fog rolled in, sucking any heat and enjoyment from my attempt of climbing again. Looking at my rope, I decided to give it a shot one more time. But I let my fear get the best of me, I set up another rope with another grab to ensure that if I did fall, I would only fall a few inches before stuff was engaged.
Like a total newb, I pounded my way up the face. And then the rain struck.. so.. halfway up, in the rain, cold and wet I had to rap back down as it was not a good idea of climb on wet rock. I packed up my gear and trudged home in the rain. Soaked!
I was defeated and while walking back to the car I punished my self for not being able to make a short easy climb. I felt good about getting back out and trying it, but not being able to make the climb on something I climbed a hundred times before was really killing me. And if anyone knows me, if someone tells me something can not be done, well I go and do my best to prove them wrong. And that natural reaction to lifes problems started to kick in on autopilot.
The whole night home, this bittersweet feeling of my attempt was just chipping away at me. So much in fact, that next morning it was sunny and clear. I got up and went back to do it again.
This time, I was able to do it. But the whole time I was nearly crippled with fear of falling. And I knew that for me to be able to climb again, I needed to fall. I needed to face this fear that has kept me from getting back into the sport and I needed to kick its ass.
So I did what any sane person would do. I contacted my climbing buddy *not knowing if he would still climb with me anymore as I technically stopped hanging with them after my fall* I told him what I was doing, and that I needed help if I wanted to return to it again. And Greg never hesitated! We set up a time to go to the local gym again, which was another fear I had to deal with (see above statement), and there he made me climb. I was able to totally crush 5.5 and 5.6 climbs, and I manged to (not) gracefully send a 5.7. And in fact, the lack of mobility in my foot actually helps me out on doing dropped knee moves, as my foot just locks into position and doesn't move! A pleasant discovery!
But then the time came when I completed a climb, Greg payed out some slack in the line and told me to fall. I had to face it, and Greg was not going to let me come back down unless I let go of the hold. I froze again and the anxiety set in like a freight train and my grip got tight and rigid. I could not do it, my brain would not allow me to let go!
I actually hung suspended with my own grip for roughly a minute. There was slack and Greg was not going to "Take" the line. Images of my accident came rushing back again, I could see myself hanging there with a foot at a 90 degree bend and the two white bones protruding out through where my foot should have been. I could see the exposed torn tendons, like grizzle on a raw steak before going on a grill, spasm'ing as it tried to pull my dislocated ankle bones back into place.
I wanted to climb, I was going to climb, but to climb I had to fall.
I am going to climb again.
I am going to climb again.
I am going to climb again.
Then let go. Let go and climb!
With a calm deep breath and my arms pumped from hanging for so long. I let go.
And I fell.
I fell maybe a 12 inches.. I felt my harness take the load as the rope started to stretch and then everything was still. I was hanging, I looked at my foot and it was till there, attached.. I cheered!
I got back on the wall and I told Greg one word. Again!!
This time he payed out more slack, and I got into position and I just dropped. I was falling, and I controlled my landing as I hit the wall several feet further down, I was able to do it!! The fear was beaten! I had could finally say I made it back to climbing again.
I got back down on the ground, I disconnected my rope and my emotions got the best of me. Almost 3 years of fear, anxiety and not knowing if I could actually do this all just got expelled from my body. I felt lighter, I felt like I could stand up straight and feel good again. It was an amazing rush of emotions and feelings.
It was a good day to fall.
