As local as it gets

Normally this is about the time of year when I'd be crossing my fingers for a few more random cold climbing days, and heading out to those few places that aren't yet completely engulfed in poison ivy and deer ticks.  If I had somehow made it through the winter and prime bouldering conditions uninjured, I would probably be struggling to adjust back to the time of year when getting out climbing is more about just being outside than about actually expecting myself to climb well.  Sometimes that actually works in my favor.  Sometimes I go out on a summer day with absolutely no expectations other than just to climb on something other than plastic or wooden holds, and I surprise myself with how well I can still climb in swampy conditions.  Days like that are made even better with the realization that conditions are only going to get better once things cool down again.

These days, all of my climbing is outside, and I've actually been getting out to climb three days a week.  Sort of.

After ten weeks of rarely leaving my house, of not going more than five miles from home, and not moving my car more than four or five times, I feel like I should be itching to get back out on the rocks.  Oh I miss it for sure, but with no idea how things are going to continue to play out, I also feel like it's not hurting me to wait a while longer.

And maybe this is just wishful thinking, but in the meantime, I feel like I'm getting stronger.  I feel like I'm becoming a better climber.  Yeah, that sounds a bit strange from someone who only ever climbs the side of his deck anymore.  The stronger part isn't really a surprise though, since I have glassy plastic for hands and bicycles or heel hooks for feet.  But better?  Well, as time went passed and I found new ways of climbing the same surface to keep it interesting, I initially focused on harder and harder movements.  Most of the time those movements gradually felt easier as I got stronger, but every once in a while something would happen to make a strenuous movement suddenly feel almost effortless.  And somehow the longer I do this, the more frequently those "aha" moments arrive.  Maybe that's just because I've adjusted to the larger mechanics and can now focus on the details, but I also feel like in giving myself something to climb that absolutely doesn't matter, where there isn't even any concrete "success" that I can work toward, I more fully free myself up to learn and enjoy the process.

So yes, I miss climbing rocks.  And yes, I have boulders that I think about frequently, looking forward to the day when I can see whether I've gained as much strength and knowledge as I feel like I have.  But I'm in no rush.  For now, I can walk five feet out the door and have a place to climb that challenges me, and have it all to myself under the shade of 80 foot trees.  Not a bad place to be.