Fearless Now, Fearless

I think I'll start this one with a warning - I have absolutely no idea where it'll end up going. I've had a lot of thoughts swirling in my head recently - age, youth, fearlessness, love, change, happiness - and unfortunately a nine day run at work - among other things - made it difficult for me to carve out time to write. Writing helps. It encourages me to organize my thoughts and centers me. And if I do it in a timely fashion, all my errant, chaotic-seeming thoughts and ideas get separated into nice neat file folders (figuratively speaking, of course) and blogs tend to run a fairly predictable course. This one, though, with its cascading waterfall of unrequited ideas will probably meander a bit before it gets where its going. If it ever gets there at all...

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I had this idea awhile ago. I guess it was late April, maybe May. I wanted to live a different kind of life. We've talked at length about my nomadic tendencies and my desire to achieve 99% portability. And I guess that's all part of it, but it's honestly more than that. I decided that I wanted to be more adventurous, live a more adventurous life. Be one of those people who shopped regularly at REI and actually knew how to use what they bought.

** Let's stop for a quick reality check - This did not mean that I was suddenly going to become a great outdoors' person. Nope. No tent. No camp toilet. No solar powered lantern. I'm too woefully attractive to bugs of all kinds and I don't relish being wet and/or dirty. Plus I really, really like the great indoors and all that comes with it - WiFi, toilets that flush, fluffy down comforters, electricity, a marked absence of snakes. **

I first considered a bike. I could bike to work! I only live five or so hilly miles away and it would be reasonably doable. I bought a racing bike a few years ago when I briefly toyed with the idea of doing a triathlon, but I sold it to a friend when I realized (1) I can't swim (Before y'all freak out - I can swim. I just can't swim, like laps, in open water, or anything much beyond dog paddling) and (2) I really don't relish training long distances on a bike in close proximity to asshole drivers who don't understand the "share the road" concept. So being without a bike, I checked out different options, commuters and the like, on line and while wasting time at REI. The cost wasn't exactly prohibitive, if I'd actually use it, and the majority of the roads I'd take have wide enough shoulders to accommodate cyclists. Then I really got to thinking. I go to work in the dark (My shift starts at 0500) and there isn't much light out in the suburban country where I live. Add to that the summer heat and the idea of a biking quickly faded.

I think that's about when climbing entered my consciousness. I didn't know anyone that climbed so it wasn't like I had someone encouraging me in that direction. I truly believe it was kismet. In the early goings I thought my desire to climb was some kind of a mid-life crisis. I realize most mid-life crises involve either a new Porsche or a trophy wife rather than a new sporting activity, but I'm not into cars or younger women so... Climbing seemed logical enough. I chalked it up (no pun intended) to being almost fifty and tossed it on the back burner. I had a book to release, blogs to write, races to train for, tennis to play. Life. I had my normal, ordinary non-spontaneous, non-adventurous life to live.

Then one day a co-worker mention that she'd brought in hand lotion for one of our younger male co-workers. Interesting, I recall thinking. Weird even. Then she told me that he climbs and his hands dry out and he never remembers lotion. She's a mom so it was hard to resist mom-ing him. I walked away from that conversation with smoother hands and one thought in my head - HE CLIMBS. Now, I'm not one to invite myself along with others - I'm a pretty standard introvert in that regard - but the next time I saw Mitchell the first question out of my mouth was "You climb?" After he acknowledged that yes, he boulders at the local bouldering gym, I immediately asked if I could go with him sometime. His face lit up. Definitely! I wondered if it was just lip-service from a young guy to a woman old enough to be his mom. Not so. Later I got a text from an unknown number (our mutual friend and co-worker had given him my number) about meeting up at Austin Bouldering Project the following weekend.

Boom! Just like that, I was going climbing. Not really. The plan we made fell through. However, I was determined. With or without Mitch, I was going to climb. I googled the bouldering gym and learned that they offer an intro class every Saturday afternoon. The one the following Saturday was already full (a week ahead) so I quickly registered for the next available class two weeks out. I convinced another friend to take the class with me (a "safe person" helps me in new situations at new places) and I was set.

The night before class, I did a little research about bouldering. Mitchell had said it was climbing but the walls were lower and there weren't ropes and such but that was the extent of my knowledge. A couple quick facts about bouldering -

• Bouldering is a form of rock climbing that involves small rock formations and fake rock walls (as in the case of the bouldering gym). And, like Mitch had said, it's done without ropes and harnesses. 
• The walls aren't much higher than 15-20 feet and "crash pads" surround all walls to help break falls. 
• The sequence of moves that a climber has to complete are called "problems". Bouldering gyms create problems with a system of carefully placed plastic holds. 
• Problems come in a variety of difficulties and classified by something called the V scale. For example, V-0 problems are easy while V-12 are highly advanced. The problems at the Austin Bouldering Project are color coded and range from super easy (yellow) to impossibly hard (white).
• Bouldering doesn't require much special equipment though climbing shoes are HIGHLY recommended. Chalk is also key to successful climbing. 

And that's how I found myself staring at a series of yellow "holds" last Saturday afternoon and facing down the instruction that no climb = no graduation from intro class. We'd already learned gym etiquette ( Common sense really - Look out above lest someone fall upon you), how to fall (Land on your feet and roll onto your butt and back while keeping hands tucked in), and climbing basics (Highlighted by the bullet points above). in any case, I was there to climb and everyone else in the group had passed the test, so I ventured out. I was perfectly fine until I reached the top and had to spin around to climb down the other side. In order to climb down, I had to look down.

This might be the appropriate time to mention that I'm afraid of heights. You'd think that one look down would have sent me out of the gym never to return. But it didn't. I got down. Then went back up. Again and again. As crazy and illogical as it sounds, the height and its accompanying adrenaline rush is part of what I love about climbing. And why I continue to fall deeper in love with the sport. 

I think when I decided those months ago that I wanted a more adventurous life what I really meant was that I wanted to fight my fears and find a way to live more fearlessly. Turns out, climbing wasn't a mid-life crisis; it was an important, very concrete, very literal step in the right direction. Let's be honest, if I can fight my nearly life-long fear of heights, what other fears can I conquer? Fear of connection? Fear of my often tenuous sanity? Hell, maybe even my fear of fear itself.

Yesterday, after just one other visit to the gym and before meeting up with Mitchell (We finally got our schedules to work) and anther twenty-something co-worker, I became a card carrying member of the Austin Bouldering Project. Yes, it's a bit of a drive regardless of traffic and yet another expensive hobby (I outfitted myself at REI for a touch under $150, plus the monthly membership dues...), and something else to squeeze into my already jam packed schedule. However, there's something about the gym and the sport that I can't resist. Climbing is like a very physical chess game. It's deep thought, patience, and problem solving. It's learning to use my body is ways I've never used it before, in ways I never thought I could. It's balance and flexibility, something my body needs more of. It's not being strong enough but knowing one day I will be. It's a sore muscles without picking up a weight. It's failure and effort and trial and error and success...sometimes. It's doing battle with gravity, knowing I could fall and doing everything possible not to. It's the voice in my head that says "fearless now, fearless" over and over when I think I should quit and climb back down. 

That lesson right there - "Fearless now, fearless. Don't quit" - may one day be my saving grace. Not long ago, I traded one necklace for another. The first had a charm with the word "Rise" imprinted on it. I wore it for a couple years. At that point, rising was important because I felt that I really had no where to go but up. The one I wear now has a similar charm, except the word stamped into the metal is "Fearless". Funny how I rose for so long, figuratively speaking, and now I'm climbing - literally rising. All the while fearing less. On my way to being truly fearless. Cool. And definitely kismet.