During this trip out into West Virginia I got some of my first outdoor lead climbing experience, and it revealed truths about myself I already knew about myself but still can’t change from, even now that I’m back home and know these things. I know what moves to make. I know exactly what to do. If anybody in my position asked me the beta, I could tell them, in climbing or in other applications. I know what to do. But – goddammit – I can’t do it. It’s not even that I can’t do it – put me on top rope, gave me a safety net, give me zero consequences, zero risk, and I could easily do it, I would do it, I have done it, but as soon as I’m a foot above where I’m clipped, as soon as I’m facing any level of uncertainty about the outcome of what I’m going to do, I flounder and downclimb. It’s like I’m watching myself from inside my body, banging on the glass screaming, trying to take control of my limbs, my lungs, my words, but emergency shutdown has already commenced. Hesitation is disintegration.
It’s something I’m working on. This applies to so many facets of my life – and I get it. Risk is, well, risky. Even if I go into a situation knowing exactly what to do, it’s like as soon as I’m on that wall, in that room, whatever it might be, if there’s any unknown variables, I blank out and can’t act on what I know, it’s as if I’ve been severed. Goddamned frustrating, goddamned embarrassing. I try not to get frustrated – whenever I’d stall and have to lower this trip, I tried to remember hey, I’m outside, doing something I enjoy, on rock, it’s a good day, forget about the send. But I want to send it.
I periodically come back into a deep obsession with The Beatles’ 1966 LP Revolver. It’s the first album I remember just methodically listening to front to back on repeat, and I’m still learning from it. There’s this one song, I Want to Tell You, that I think about a lot. “I want to tell you, my head is filled with things to say, when you’re here, all those words they seem to slip away.” Nominally it’s about interpersonal relationships, sure, but it’s applicable to so much more. For me it could easily be “I want to climb that, I have all the beta I need, but when I’m up there, I sink back into my knees” or “I want to hike that, I’ve got thighs for days, but when I’m going uphill, all that strength it slips away” yada yada. I have this issue with photography, as soon as it’s not just me farting around and instead I’m trying to photograph friends or a trip like this that isn’t just a photo walk around Church Hill, I get nervous, my muscle memory slips away. Writing, I can shit out a stream-of-conscious post that I look back at and go “oh holy hell that’s actually great” but then I want to post something with a bit more meaning or forethought and all of a sudden it’s like I’m a preschooler trying to rhyme. I have high anxiety, and it manifests in weird ways, I know this. At least drinking doesn’t help.
I’m at my best sometimes when I just don’t give a shit, I just don’t think, I just do, but it’s cool to care, to give a shit, to think. These are important things. Second-guessing isn’t always bad, but there’s a fine line. I just wish I was bolder. Bolder on boulders. Fun alliteration.