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Moving over stone

A lot of times climbing is all Type II kind of fun, if not Type III. Only occasionally Type I [1]. Even the sport climbing, just trying to get better. Driving, doing the same climbs, failing on the same stupid dyno every time, having the same conversations with the same people, over and over.

Then you pull out of an overhang onto a sunny steep face, and you feel the sun on your arm, feel your hand on the rock, and there’s just the sheer joy of moving over stone a hundred feet up and only your wits and your strength between you and the air.

Then you remember. ┬áThat first step, the first moment of the addiction, and why you’ve been doing it all this time, and why nothing else will ever come close.