Failure

Theme tune for now (but without the uplifting twist)....



This was originally - a couple of months ago - going to be a blog post about struggling with the alarmingly familiar failure to get back into trad climbing after a successful and very consistent half-year bouldering campaign, along with with a suggestion that those who don't struggle with failure nor climbing psychology, or choose to do a climbing genre that is much less susceptible to it, might want to stop reading, and those who like to smugly rubberneck someone's struggles from their own superior abilities might want to fuck right off.

Since then, due to the coronavirus lockdown, it's more about contemplating failure on a more persistent level. There are many things that could be said about covid-19 and lockdowns, about the spirit of the law vs the letter of the law, the cure vs the disease, death vs disruption, about quality of life and it's inherent finiteness, about the realistic risks in socially distant activities, about social / emotional / physical costs, about blanket rules, about holier-than-thou judgementalism and turning on each other - I have no comment on any of them.

Instead this is about my climbing (again if this is inappropriate subject matter, find that Back button asap) and, of course, lack thereof. And failure, and the likelihood thereof. I don't know when the current situation will end, and I don't know what climbing state I will be after it (going into it, I was motivationally and physically good at least). I suspect when this.....confinement is over and at least some climbers are unleashed upon the crags, frothing like dogs on heat, imbued with the power of endless fingerboarding sessions and home-workouts straight off a billion fucking social media videos, with their topped up CV fitness from actually effective daily allowances of running and cycling, I will be crawling out on leaden legs and subdued psychology wondering if I can walk in to Stanage let alone do some HVSes there.

(Although that might all be academic given that this unprecedented and utterly farcical mega-drought will come to an end - quite possibly an exactly coincident end - at some point)

For a decade I have known that the climbing lifestyle is essential for me, not as a matter as of mere hedonistic pleasure, but as an overall level of activity that keeps me fit and healthy, keeps my entire body moving, and compensates for the limits of my 30%-venous-return legs. This is not some kneejerk reaction to justify why I need to be out (or in) climbing, as I wrote about this in one of my earliest blog posts whilst learning to cope with DVTs:

Every step I've taken, every length I've swum, every stretch I've done, every time I've sat in an awkward position with my legs up so they didn't swell, every time I've dilligently asked the doctors about what I can do to help my healing, every time I've rested when I didn't feel like it, every time I've been conscious to take care of myself, every little bit I've pushed to get my fitness back, it's been because there's something I want that fitness for - living a good life in general, and living a climbing lifestyle....which is pretty damn good ;). I make no claims of greatness, but I feel happy and proud to have this attitude and happy and proud that climbing is a big part of it.

Further, it is fairly essential to help alleviate my digestive issues (everyone I've consulted has highlighted the need to reduce overall stress, and climbing is a key de-stressor / meditative process, also the level of activity helps with my metabolism and appetite), AND to alleviate my long term psychological issues (it gives me something to live for and fight for, as alluded to above). Incidentally, yes I coped okay with several months off with a broken foot in 2005 - 15 years younger and pre-DVTs, and with several weeks off with mashed soft-tissue in 2017 - with lots of regular gym and upper-body-only wall visits. Different situations.

In the current situation I have been doing the best I can - running most days and longer gentle walks on "rest" days. And the usual fingerboarding shit although the best exercise with that was trying to drill the fucker in to solid tungsten pretending to be brick. The result of this regular CV exercise: very slowly worsening running (a tiny decrease but noticeable), achy legs, slightly sore lower back, general sluggishness. Past experience has proven to me that extended climbing periods or intermittent heavy gym sessions have noticeably improved my running and thus my fitness (even when I've been rarely doing it), whilst running itself hasn't. Strange? Yes. I have a strange body. This is NOT a matter of specific exercises nor will it be miraculously alleviated by doing fucking yoga nor burpees (clue: burpees are really leg-reliant). It's a matter of an overall active lifestyle that is currently "banned".

"Staying inside and painting marines" has proven to be damaging to my physical and mental health and this time is no exception. The effect on my climbing will be at least as detrimental - in recent years it's taken me at least the same amount of time as  the "time off" period to recover so I do not have high hopes this time.

Finally, some media from.....previously....

Winter Grit.....My Antisocial Way

So that was the winter past and I did it my way, mostly antisocially. Although not entirely, sometimes I managed to outwit the Gapescrote plan to shiver my blubber off on prolonged belays on drizzle-blasted obscurities and actually get him to do something suitable for a grotty gale-ridden winter season, sometimes I met fellow obscurists and sometimes random people which worked particularly well at Scout Hut (I only walked in after driving through a sodden Widdop valley because I needed a piss and it turned out to be bewilderingly dry and another dude was reccing and his mates turned up with loads of pads, sometimes the luck goes my way).

Anyway even though I often spend the routes seasons begging around for partners, trying to get anyone interested in similar exploration and able to give off the right vibes for my tradding, when it comes to bouldering I seem to be quite happy on my own. Sure the occasional highball warrants and rewards a pad party of send train bellends, but for actually getting stuff done, the simplicity of my own schedule and pacing suits me well. Following inspirations with all focus and no distraction, and then the more sociable days out tend to feel fun in comparison.

So this is how it happened, lots of cool problems that might be quite familiar if you've been living 15 minutes away for the last decade, but I think are pretty explorative for someone who has been living 4 hours away for the last decade and has his first grit season in 10 years living locally. Even though the meteorological theme for this grit season was "wank on a stick", the relentless winds that brought in all the fucking rain also brought in some surprising drying speeds as well as making far eastern and tree-shrouded venues invaluable. So in the end, by a lot of forecast checking and venue divining, I got a decent amount done....







...and now it ends. Has the grit season ended? When did it end? What time is it? What day is it? Who the fuck knows. I still have my winter grit beard on because I don't know what to do with it.... Well it ended before I could really get to grips with many routes, before I could at least *try* to put reasonable grit bouldering momentum to test above runners instead of pads. Sobeit. I probably feel something about that but I'm not even sure what. So instead I can look back at the times above as a bit of a retrospective celebration.