Post by mclay on Sept 9, 2016 6:03:40 GMT -7
This past week was the first redpoint trip of my current training cycle. I didn't go with a ton of expectations. We had the kids with us and no way of finding a dedicated partner. I did have a lot of lingering doubt though. I've been climbing casually off and on for a few years, but found the RCTM last year. It appealed to me primarily due my life situation - started climbing as an adult, lack of free time, young kids. This is my third cycle, but the first that I've been able to fully commit to - no injuries, no erratic gaps throughout the cycle. My biggest doubt however was centered on the feeling that training seems to pay off others (all the awesome success stories on this board), but what if it didn't work for me.
We didn't get nearly enough climbing in over 2 days, but the limited attempts gave me a feeling that I had definitely progressed. My footwork was more confident from ARC sessions. There was no lurking wave of pump on moderate terrain. My primary goal for the trip was to send my first 5.10d (Ewbank/SA grade 21). I selected a classic line from the guidebook and was raring to go. Upon arrival at the route we discovered a first bolt approximately 4 meters from the ground. No stick clip available as the area rarely has a high first bolt; only my wife around to spot me; some very thin moves right off the deck combined with a very uneven landing killed the psyche. Mentally (and perhaps physically) I was beaten before starting. We selected a nearby route with the same grade and refocused. The first several clips sailed past and confidence was soaring. I hesitated at what appeared to be the crux. Seconds later Kid World War III broke out on the ground below. I've learned the hard way to discern when family climbing fiascos aren't going to be overcome while on belay. We bailed and called it a day. Disappointed, but the fear that my hard work might be in vain was subsiding.
The next day we were walking past a route that I had designated as a dream route. I had jumped on it about 9 months ago just to see what a "24" (5.11d/7a) felt like. It felt exhilarating but ridiculously hard. A distant fantasy to be realized in a few years. The day up to that point had been great. Easier sending. Happy kids. Nearly vacant crag. As we reached the base of the climb, I realized that someone had draws on it. Maybe this isn't a big deal to "real climbers" but for me, a noob who rarely has a stronger climber in the group to retrieve gear, this is a magic moment! It's playing with house money.
We didn't have much time left before having to start the drive home, but I went for it. Almost from the first move I was having trouble keeping a goofy grin off my face. The difference from 9 month prior was crazy. There was a dawning realization at each bolt - "This is what it feels like when training works for you." It wasn't clean. It wasn't perfect. But I was figuring out sequences with relative ease. The smallest holds didn't seem impossible to grip. I was linking from one clipping stance to the next. About halfway through hangdogging the route I realized that it was doable. Not 2-3 years from now doable, but within reach in this season perhaps.
My performance phase objectives have been readjusted and now it's a matter of quality attempts and a willing belayer. But I guess those are pretty cool problems to have.
Observing the effects of training in others may be inspiring, but the satisfaction of realizing that your own training is paying off can feel as great as the send itself.
We didn't get nearly enough climbing in over 2 days, but the limited attempts gave me a feeling that I had definitely progressed. My footwork was more confident from ARC sessions. There was no lurking wave of pump on moderate terrain. My primary goal for the trip was to send my first 5.10d (Ewbank/SA grade 21). I selected a classic line from the guidebook and was raring to go. Upon arrival at the route we discovered a first bolt approximately 4 meters from the ground. No stick clip available as the area rarely has a high first bolt; only my wife around to spot me; some very thin moves right off the deck combined with a very uneven landing killed the psyche. Mentally (and perhaps physically) I was beaten before starting. We selected a nearby route with the same grade and refocused. The first several clips sailed past and confidence was soaring. I hesitated at what appeared to be the crux. Seconds later Kid World War III broke out on the ground below. I've learned the hard way to discern when family climbing fiascos aren't going to be overcome while on belay. We bailed and called it a day. Disappointed, but the fear that my hard work might be in vain was subsiding.
The next day we were walking past a route that I had designated as a dream route. I had jumped on it about 9 months ago just to see what a "24" (5.11d/7a) felt like. It felt exhilarating but ridiculously hard. A distant fantasy to be realized in a few years. The day up to that point had been great. Easier sending. Happy kids. Nearly vacant crag. As we reached the base of the climb, I realized that someone had draws on it. Maybe this isn't a big deal to "real climbers" but for me, a noob who rarely has a stronger climber in the group to retrieve gear, this is a magic moment! It's playing with house money.
We didn't have much time left before having to start the drive home, but I went for it. Almost from the first move I was having trouble keeping a goofy grin off my face. The difference from 9 month prior was crazy. There was a dawning realization at each bolt - "This is what it feels like when training works for you." It wasn't clean. It wasn't perfect. But I was figuring out sequences with relative ease. The smallest holds didn't seem impossible to grip. I was linking from one clipping stance to the next. About halfway through hangdogging the route I realized that it was doable. Not 2-3 years from now doable, but within reach in this season perhaps.
My performance phase objectives have been readjusted and now it's a matter of quality attempts and a willing belayer. But I guess those are pretty cool problems to have.
Observing the effects of training in others may be inspiring, but the satisfaction of realizing that your own training is paying off can feel as great as the send itself.
