Climbing the walls

Back when my daughter Clio was in cancer treatment and I’d get together or chat with friends, there would inevitably come a juncture in the conversation where the friend would start complaining about one thing or another, in the way that friends do with each other—some headache at work or challenge with the kids or frustration about X or Y—and then they’d stop themselves and look stricken and say something along the lines of: “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t complain, given what you’re going through….”

To which I would invevitably say:  Please! It’s OK! You’re allowed to complain. Just because our family’s situation is suckier than average at the moment doesn’t mean your sucky situations don’t suck. I mean, there are plenty of people whose situations are much suckier than ours, and I sure as hell still complain. (I might not have used the word ‘suck’ quite so much.)

Point being: As long as you’re not an a**hole about it, and as long as you keep things in perspective and acknowledge your privilege and blessings and all that, I think it’s OK to complain a little. Even when other people have it much worse.

So, here’s the acknowledging part: I am grateful beyond belief to be as fortunate as I am right now, given everything that’s happening in the world. I’m employed, my family is healthy, we have savings in the bank and food in our fridge. We live in the ‘burbs, where we can spend time outdoors while safely social distancing. My kids are pretty self-sufficient and self motivated, so the whole no school thing is not a nightmare.

AND NOW I’M GONNA COMPLAIN ABOUT A LITTLE SOMETHING, K?

Here it is: I miss climbing so, so much.

(You thought I was going to say ‘I’m so bored I’m climbing the walls,’ didn’t you. Because of the title of the post and all. Gotcha!)

As I have mentioned previously, in pre-pandemic life, for nearly five years, I went (O! How that past tense pains me) twice a week to an indoor climbing gym in Everett called MetroRock, where I scaled walls ranging from ten to forty feet high.  It has been closed since mid March, for obvious reasons.

I cannot adequately express how much I love climbing. I had never in my life, before 2015, felt passionately about any athletic activity. I like jogging,  and I like yoga—I do both regularly. But I freaking LOVE climbing. The first time I did it, it was like WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE, MY IDEAL SPORT?

Here’s why I love it so:

1.) It is not a team sport. I hate team sports.  Though I gamely tried multiple times in my youth to like team sports, because it seemed like everyone else did, so something must be wrong with me that I didn’t, I just wasn’t able. I hated the fact that in team sports, if I screwed up, I let everyone down. In gym class, I was one of those people who, if we had to play soccer or volleyball or basketball, pretended to be playing , by moving around a bit at the edge of things, with an intent expression of focus on my face, while staying as far as possible from the ball. I lived for the times we did track or archery or gymnastics.

2.) It engages every single part of the body—including the brain. People think that climbing is primarily about upper body strength. And while it’s true upper body strength is super important (and while it’s true I have—well, had, at this point—some really nice guns), so are leg and core strength, balance and flexibility. So, it’s a killer workout without the snoozefest of doing reps and sets and blah blah blah. But—BUT—the part I really love is that it involves problem solving: figuring out the right sequence or approach or body position to make your way up a given route. Muscling your way up is not the way it’s done. Ya gotta think. And when you figure it out and make it to the top, it is so damned satisfying.

3.) It’s mental health GOLD. Honestly, climbing is a big part of what helps keep me steady and sane. I mean, yes, exercise is good for your mental health in general, so there’s that.  Endorphins and whatnot.  And I definitely get a rush out of sending a route (that’s annoying climber lingo for completing a route without falling) which probably floods my brain with all sorts of goodness. But climbing is also one of the few times when I am totally and completely in the moment. It requires full concentration. As a result, when I’m doing it, everything else—every worry, emotion, and preoccupation— falls away. I am free. (While tied to a rope.) And even at times when I’m feeling really bereft (cough, cough, the 2016 election), or I’m having a bout of depression (they still happen sometimes, though are fortunately very short-lived), or I’m just generally feeling stressed out, climbing feels good. As you might imagine, a global pandemic would be a pret-ty nice to time to be able to climb. Ah, the cruel irony.

4.) There are a lot of guys with nice bodies there . Hahah — just kidding. I mean, there are. But it doesn’t really factor into why I love climbing. Much. (Tee hee. Rawwrrr!)

So, there it is. My whiny, priveleged, laughably-frivolous-in-the-grand-scheme-of-things complaint. There are plenty of others I could add (Restaurants! Getting together with friends! Not being stressed about toilet paper! Not having to wear a mask at the grocery store!) But this, honestly, might be my biggest.

What’s yours?