Today is my first day back to climbing after a couple of years. There've been some health problems to deal with, and I almost gave up.. I almost listened to the voice in my head that says things like "you are too old now," and "you should do something else." Dumb.
The fellow at our local gym who sells me a new 3 month pass is tall, lean and young. He is also casually friendly, in the way that climbers everywhere are, always. Just the ritual of getting ready to climb feels like home; dress down to loose jeans, t-shirt, and bare feet. Stretch out, chalk up, lace the climbing shoes, and start to read routes. It's like coming home after being away.
I get on a V0 and climb it up then back down. And another. And then one more. My heart is pounding, and the whole world has gone away now. There is only the world of balance and sequence, and the feel of the holds in my hands and under my feet. I climb until I can't even close my hands on the holds any more.
Outside, walking to the car, my body is singing out loud. Shoulders, arms, even my fingers feel grateful and happy, and at home. I get in the car wondering about the schedule; can I take one rest day, then climb again? What if I climb Spencer's Butte tomorrow, would that be too much? Maybe I will climb one day, have a day off, then hike the next?
I don't know the particulars yet, but I do know the old passion. And the flow. The feeling of being one-pointed in my head and in my body, of having the thought stream go away for a time, is ecstatic, and I can only think of having that feeling again the next time. But that feeling is not just a break from the every day. Every time I climb or hike, I spend time in that magical, empty state. And every time I go there, when I return to the "real" world, I am changed, and the way I experience the world is renewed.
I think I will climb Spencer's Butte tomorrow.
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