Waltzing up Punani sit

Then having a heart attack on The Mangler

And feeling the wrath

After thinking about this discrepency in my climbing, I took a closer look at the projects I have hanging over my colorado climbing, and have decided to post them here to hold myself accountable for their completion in 2010.

• No More Greener Grass (~15 days of effort to date)
• Meatrope (~10 days of effort to date)
• Right Angry Man (~6 days of effort to date)
• Stinkbug (~5 days of effort to date)
• Bambi (~5 days of effort to date)
• Mind Matters (~5 days of effort to date)
• Black Ice (~4 days of effort to date)
• The Mangler (1 day of effort to date)

This list, now including The Mangler, represents problems that have evading me for far too long. I plan to focus on the reasons they are hard for me and tackle them one by one in the coming year. Stay tuned…

The time has come for the Broncos to grit their teeth and really give it their best…Great, Great Job today Co’s!

It’s also about time for the Rockies to refocus and, well, win!

And I need to get outside more…with a vengeance.

Note: My fantasy basketball draft is set stacked. Nuggets abound, and his most gracious majesty is in attendance!

Savor the top of the division:

Note: Psyched to get serious about sending again…

In the case that you prefer still imagery.

In the case that you prefer still imagery. Enjoy:

Note: Rylan crushed too!

Another Note: The DBC training area kicks your face.

Actually, most of the stories I would have written about myself 6 months ago for The Likely didn’t happen either. Instead, a few of my other dreams took hold: I spent 2 months in France, opened a climbing gym, and continue to do great things at my day job.

I have learned that if the ride isn’t entertaining, then dream up one that is. And then try harder and and push yourself higher to make the goal achievement part all the more thrilling.

I need to start dreaming about some of those Colorado classics on my ticklist.

Note: Here’s a recent interview I did with Front Range Bouldering about the DBC.

Another Note: Now that I kick my non-jumping leg forward, I am ever closer to dunking! Any other technique hints out there?

I will present here some of what i’ve been learning about the approach to climbing that is necessary for succeeding on the unique boulders of Fontainebleau. 

We already live such an exciting and thorough existence simply because our brains associate patterns so darn well. So, in honor of patterns, I’ve split my explination into four categories: Persistence, Precision, Power, and Patience. (They all start with a P. That’s the pattern.)

Persistence:

As with all climbing, and life in general, persistence is often the remedy to failed effort. So many good climbers impress me with their determination. And, when they succeed, they usually do so through positive and confident persistence. Font success is rooted in this same resolution.

Power of positive persistence

Precision:

If beta is something you are keen at gleaning, Font might be the area for you. Because, regardless of the grade, a Font problem will challenge the climber with subtle movement, positioning, and awareness that all require precision in execution for success.

Attention to detail

Power:

Despite all the flub about how the forest is magical, which it most certainly is, if you want to get to the top of something, you still need to show it who is boss! Take my previous and subsequent recommendations into careful consideration and then give it all you’ve got.

Putting it to the test

Patience: 

Whether you keep falling on the first move, or can’t understand the top out, my suggestion is to step back and give the problem a chance to solve itself. Enjoy the process, and all the things that make bouldering wonderful (even the rain), and you will find yourself on top before you know it. 

Patience in the process

Ok, I can’t think of any other good ‘P’ lessons right now. Also,  I really should stop watching this sloppy international basketball in German and go to bed.

Take it for what it is, because in reality, there is no formula in Fontainebleau, just a bunch of monkeys and hoops for them to jump through.

Note: lots and lots of really shiny impressive hoops!

I am now walking in the parking lot of a mall. It is just after five o’clock, but very dark and very cold already. Looking down to breathe heat into my jacket, I begin to follow a pattern of cracked asphalt with my eyes. Then, I find myself walking along with these cracks, taking the paths that will still lead me to the food court entrance about 50 yards ahead. The lot is quiet, and in my daze I begin focusing entirely on these cracks and their creativity in direction. Finally, finding one that allows me to step up onto the sidewalk, I find myself about 20 feet from the door looking at a landscaped garden featuring the word ‘Galleria’ spelled with white rocks in the center of a mosaic of frozen monkey grass. On the right side of this entry garden is a trashcan and a perforated bench. Some people haven’t the slightest idea, but me, I know to sit at that bench.

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If you think cheating death once gives you a ticket to a larger purpose, or a free ride past the dangers of life until old age, then you are sorely mistaken. Instead, by escaping the grip of Grim, I think you have just found your new function. You are now truly living. You are one lucky bastard, but for that reason, has your luck has begun to dwindle?

At the ripe age of 20, when anything is possible and most everything gets tested, I was one of those who escaped my early demise to live another day. Cruising 86 miles per hour from the 2005 Sugar Bowl just outside Bourbon Street to the dregs of El Paso, in one fateful push, wasn’t my first testing of the impossible, but it was my first failure. Just two hours from my destination, which would have been sunrise, a miscalculated measurement of the road had me riding the steep median with my front tire, and a split second later the whirling air inundated the car as my navy blue Nissan Pathfinder flipped three times before coming to a rest upside down in the middle of the interstate to nowhere.

From A.F.D. (after first death) on, I have applied a strategic method of recognizing deadly situations. These morbid indicators could be as cliché as a crow on a fence, or a black cat, or a cat of any color for that matter. I think with my new found acuity, I have a pretty strong grasp on what doesn’t feel right. Some might call this superstition or paranoia…I call it bird watching. This way, each time I narrowly avoid death, I can laugh at the state of affairs and inform that hood-wearing skeleton, “a little bird told me.”

I have become a master at recognizing patterns in life, instance reoccurrences, and random repetitions like dé jà vu. I try to read my horoscope every day; I only smile on days that are rated 6 or better, and I will head serious warning when recommended to. Most people think horoscopes are destiny outlined in the stars. Instead, I think, since most people don’t bother to even read the headlines of their life, then I am opening the door to free will by paying attention. If I decide to ask for a raise when I read that I should do so early that day in the comic section of the Tuesday newspaper, I still did the grunt work myself…right?

At the end of my last semester of college following the survival and realization of doom that was my first brush with death, I was effectively living a life filled with careful rationalization in my actions. However, I was more ready than any other student at my school to hit the irresponsibility road for a summer of slack. As the printer fired up to finalize my work, like the sound of an airliner revving up to pull back from the jet way, I was finally ready to begin my vacation. The next morning, after driving West for 8 hours, I was bouldering in a desert full of impeccable stone. No newspapers for miles, but there is plenty of life to be lived in those hills. I love to climb alone, and here, I feel like I am always more in touch with myself. However, on this day, just as abruptly as my trip out here had been planned, it was ended by loose chunk of rock that sent me flying toward the ground and barreling down the hill. Standing up and brushing off, I knew right then that I wasn’t supposed to dwell at that juncture. The fall was not from some life-ending or miraculous height, but it was plenty lofty to have me immediately back in the car and driving toward a desk job as a marketing copywriter for the rest of the summer.

I guess the question comes down to whether I am living a life of fate or free will. My bird watching activities, and subsequent decisions, allow me to hold onto some notion of free will, despite letting the birds decide for me sometimes. Even the reading of horoscopes is a way to manage my free will, and not bow to what’s written in the stars. But, things do seem to fall in my lap at times, whether it be a life-threatening car crash or a timely job offer, some happenings appear designed. I would like to think it’s simply because I have an incredible grasp of kairos, or timing. But, whether I am all knowing or not, I am confident my destiny won’t lead me wrong. And, for that reason, if I choose to smile on a day I read to be rated as only a 4, then that’s exactly what I was meant to do.

____——-+~~~~~~~~~________——___~~~~~~~~~~+

Again, I am not sure why I am sitting on this bench; I am not even facing the door as if to recognize someone coming out. Instead, I face the exit point of the crack system that led me to the sidewalk. I thought for a moment that I was here to see the woman and her husband argue before she drove away without him, and then maybe because I got an email on my Blackberry telling me I had sold some ad space on my website and would now have more money to spend shopping. But, I know it was neither of those reasons, and maybe both of them. Either way, I won’t be able to confirm anything until I stand up and continue in through the rotating doors. Maybe I’ll sit just a little longer.