Monday, July 23, 2012


A non-Maria post for a change...
 There are many nights I stay awake, thinking about climbing again. I often think about how I would climb a crack with one leg, jumar up a rope with my left leg dangling out, perhaps inelegantly hobbling up a 5.6. Sometimes I get really fired up, but a lot of the time I think about how I would inevitably compare myself to my climbing-self before my accident, and then fall into sadness. I am soooo far from being in shape, let alone climbing shape that I need to work off all those tortillas and other foods I consumed in excess here, first. My body’s metabolism is so messed up, which makes losing weight difficult for me. I think because I lost so much weight after my surgeries and during my recuperation, my body isn’t willing to lose all those extra pounds that it regained, fearing another famine. Or maybe I’m just completely kidding myself. With the exception of my really tight, toe-curling climbing shoes and a backpack, I haven’t sold any of my climbing gear. I imagine placing a cam (a nice BD #2) securely in a crack, clipping the rope in for the first time, and imagine how I might feel. Triumphant? Sad? Will I be able to enjoy just being outside again? Or will I be too mired in my past and current physical state to enjoy the experience? I’m not sure if I am ready to find out. Being in Boston might also provide a disincentive to climb on New England rock in New England weather.
I also think about the ethics of introducing my children, should I have any, to climbing. Part of me can’t imagine anything more fun and rewarding than sharing with your child a sport that can give you such a richness of experience. Another part of me wonders, given the risks and what happened to me, is it ethical for me to get my kids into climbing? I often imagine having a bad-ass little girl who will compete in the X-Games, but again, would I be a responsible parent for encouraging her to do so?

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