I spent the last two weeks increasingly out of sorts, stressed, not enough sleep, or exercise, overworked and a bit cranky, or so I am told.
Biking into work Friday, I realized I had not climbed in two weeks. Two weeks! Weather, circumstances, and travel had conspired to keep my hands off stone. In once sense, I had been happy for the break, and the rest. But once I made the connection, I understood my mood. So I stopped vacillating about the decision to drive solo up to the sekrit NoCal crag for the long weekend [1] and spent it getting my butt kicked on Hillbilly Limestone, 12b. Long nights in the parking lot, just me and the dogs, coyotes, owls, dew, and frogs. I slept nine hours both nights, got through a couple of NYers, and drank a bunch of french-press coffee with no one around in the mornings, and the dogs playing with each other.
I worked out all the moves and had two respectable lead runs on the last day where I went for it and took the falls. The hard moves are easy, and I’m falling on the pumpy redpoint cruxes, so I just need to keep it together when I’m pumped stupid.
That’s a good feeling, even though I didn’t send. It’s there.
I had a good road warrior run home, five hours, with the shuffle hitting the right tunes, the cops lighting up the radar detector well in advance, the other cars just slow-moving obstacles, and the mind cogitating on life, the universe, and everything. Flow was achieved, climbing, and driving.
I think I will feel much more relaxed and happy this week.
Hi. My name is Brent, and I’m a climbaholic.
I’ll write down the beta in the morning and start planning the next trip.
[1] More importantly, driving solo back. I don’t mind the drive (though it’d be nice to split the gas), I just don’t particularly want to die falling asleep on a long drive home after a hard day’s climbing. Buying it on El Cap A5, or in my sleep, or in the backcountry, fine. Not on the I-5 because I couldn’t stay awake.