Jedi's dream-come-true...massage and petting by too many hands to count.

Lawrence tries the Furminator on himself after Jedi's session is over.

Being sick messed everything up this week, even though I was only really sick for about 24 hours…amazing how that happens. Today I have to play catch-up all day, now that my energy’s returned. My appetite completely vanished for the entire day on Thursday, though I managed to choke down some eggs and noodles at around 9 p.m., after a day of drinking electrolyte fluid and Sprite. Not the best recovery food, I discovered on Friday, as I went up climbing. I felt better, but still weak, and not really hungry.

With no expectations, I put in a decent day on my project, regardless—though I was too drained to string it together, I had a remarkable experience. I was hanging at “the move,” when I decided on a whim to just try it a way that I’d tried it with zero success last year…and I discovered that stronger-me can do the move at a much higher percentage using this beta now, which requires more lock-off power with my right arm. So if you’re short and strong enough, this IS the beta, but if you can’t push the hold down while rocking up on a much worse foothold, it’s way more difficult (impossible for me last year). More inspiration to continue training, and much more inspiration and joy in the route now, since that changes it into something new for me instead of the proverbial S.O.S. feeling of failure on the move until I happen to nail it in sequence.

Superbly pleased, I headed home and put in a decent training session, along with one other compatriot, Nori, who has been climbing like a maniac since her arrival. Formerly a boulderer, I think she’s undergoing a conversion of religious dimensions and will leave here a sport climber at heart. After training, I tried for sleep, but didn’t succeed in a good night of rest (I rarely do after training; I guess I’m too pumped up or something). I awoke at 7:30 yesterday groggy and unhappy knowing I had to get up to go out to the crag, since I was taking a first-timer up along with some friends. I slogged through the short approach, didn’t climb a bit, but actually enjoyed watching the novice discover climbing, as well as playing with Jody’s awesome SLR camera…so cool!

Back here, I enjoyed an early dinner thanks to Nicola’s expertise (yes, there’s like a million people at my house again, representing six countries), and it actually tasted somewhat good (maybe my appetite is back). Then, what started as a sleepy-energy night at chez moi somehow turned into total climber mayhem with the arrival of drunken-Scotsman Lawrence, plus a bunch of other folks ranging from sober to tipsy to full-blown drunk, and next thing I knew, it turned into an evening of hilarity and chaos on the porch. How to capture it…let’s just say the fur was flying (literally, since Jedi has proven to be a constant source of entertainment due to his ability to continue shedding giant tufts of white fur with every stroke of the Furminator), the crudeness and vulgarity of the conversation was bringing out the child in everyone, and it’s probably the hardest I’ve laughed all summer.

One of last night's activities: climbing rope jump rope with a 3-year-old.

Late-night laughter and mayhem on the porch.

Restless all night last night. I fell asleep around midnight, and woke up at 2 a.m. from a nightmare that Jedi had died due to my negligence. Probably this stemmed from the post-climbing incident when we got back to the house, and since the door latch on my 4Runner is completely jammed, I had the dogs jump over the backseat to get out of the car. That is, I had the two dogs I’m watching jump over the backseat, but for Jedi, this concept proved completely overwhelming and stressful. He whined, cowered, and refused to try. So I left him there with the side door open, figuring that he’d figure it out himself. Which he didn’t—he just started barking in distress, until finally I put down the backseat and he scrambled over that to safety. So strange. And then it gave me a nightmare…even stranger.

After this, I woke up again at 20 to 6, starving and parched, even after having a pre-bedtime protein shake. I guzzled down a glass of water, choked down a couple bites of peanut butter, and fell back asleep until 8.

This after yesterday’s excursion, which involved hiking the long way to the Cattle Ranch (since the creek is still raging), and then warming up and trying my new project twice. Only twice, because my right-hand pointer finger started oozing blood on the second go, the skin just worn so thin from the small and sharp holds. It was still a great day of climbing; I worked out lots of beta and strung together long sections of the route. I have so much more of a natural and intuitive feeling about this super-thin, super-techy, barely overhanging to barely off-vertical continuous climbing. The pace, the way to use the holds, how to move: It is just all far more engrained in my body and being than the steeper stuff is, still. I know how to rock climb on this stuff, but it’s just not what you find in most places, and it is painful on the fingers and toes.

After my day was cut short by the skin issue, I eventually returned home for another après-climbing training session, with three other people (and a fourth who came later). The house seems so hot once you start pulling and pushing and moving through the exercises. Everyone pours sweat and runs up and down the stairs to the different stations. Yesterday, we were heckled by the beer-drinkin’ crowd, too, which was actually kind of fun. They did cheer us on, as well as laugh at the pain game that was happening.

I’m not a training junkie for the sake of making myself hurt; it’s about the very real, very rapid, and therefore very addictive gains that I continue to see from this training. It’s like my body was just waiting for this to happen all along, and the more consistent and committed I am to training, the faster and more exciting the results. There’s nothing that could make training more addictive than going outside climbing and feeling how much stronger I am on extremely familiar territory like the project I’m trying now. I just want more power, all the time, every day, and this is the fastest path to it—the only path to it, in fact—that I’ve found.

I started my hike up to the crag around 12:30 yesterday, having spent the morning crafting two articles and submitting them for review. Before hiking, I fastened Jedi’ extremely heavy backpack onto his body, and he obligingly plodded along up the trail behind me, lagging as usual, but keeping up a slow but steady pace. I really do feel my heart swelling with pride when he does this; it’s silly, but it’s awesome to see how much progress he’s made, and I love it that he carries the backpack filled with water bottles with such a serious expression on his face. I guess it’s the working dog in him coming out.

Up at the crag, I met up with my partner du jour, who was already up there roasting in the sun while cleaning a route up. I warmed up in the blinding sun on a new 5.10+ slabby affair, and man, worn out shoes with holes in the toes did not make that a fun warm-up experience at all. Next up was another new route, another 10, this one jugtastic and slightly overhanging. Nice. Much better.

Then it was onto the burden of the day, getting draws up on the next project for me, which was chalk-free and water-washed, which means many holds were filled with dirt. I opted for the stick-clip/tennis shoe ascent, to tick and brush holds, and also to refresh my memory.

After this, I went for the recon first burn. I was pleasantly surprised at how different moves and holds felt from last year, and this despite the feeling of sweltering, smothering humidity that moved in along with the cloud cover. Ugh. I worked my way up, got to “the move,” the one that has bouted me so much, and after taking and preparing myself to accept whatever outcome happened, I pulled onto the rock…and did the move statically, for the first time ever in my life! Yes! I felt tears welling up, I admit—it was just so exciting, to know that the training has paid off.

After this, I went on up the climb, sorting beta, finding more holds, taking whippers, and whining about how much my feet hurt, standing on tiny edges in my tight edging shoes. I shredded lots and lots of skin off of my fingers, too. I bet you want to climb this route now, right? I am making it sound ultra-awesome and fun, I know. But it is fun enough, really cool moves and really technical and balancey on really terribly small holds. However, when I came down, though I was psyched, I had an out-loud revelation that sort of surprised myself.

“You know,” I mused, “I think I actually don’t like this style of climbing the most anymore. It’s what I’m best at, and I can climb the hardest on this, but it’s not my favorite anymore. I am just good at it, is all.”

This is actually HUGE in my world, an enormous transition and mind-shift, and I know it’s from training and growing more powerful. The more powerful I get, the less my hands hurt, because I don’t rely on them completely for everything, and also, I have access to more routes that are less about strong hands and balance and more about doing bigger moves. And these, frankly, tend to be more fun. I don’t lower off with curls of skin ripped from my throbbing fingertips, or feel the need to tear my climbing shoes off the instant I clip the anchors. I simply enjoy the sensation of pulling hard between smoother, more skin-friendly and finger-friendly holds.

Interesting for me; an interesting time of transition into a new world and new mindset about climbing. That’s not to say I won’t pursue some finger-shredding goodness now and again. I aim to see this li’l ripper through, and possibly another one this year, too. But, I think I see myself moving toward a day when I don’t gravitate to such endeavors much at all anymore, instead trying my skills at the less-familiar and less-abusive terrain of overhanging steepness.