Lessons of Rock

The rock was imposing. It was cold. It was menacing.

I look for the easiest path. One that I can do. One that won't let me slip.
I imagine falling and feel heavy. I imagine forces, broken bones and blood.

I try to understand the agony of falling. but the pain is beyond comprehension.
If carelessness and fate should decide ill, I want drugs. Strong drugs. Powerful drugs.

I look up, and then down at my figure eight. The rope is there and so is your belayer.

We go through safety checks, and yet the routine of checking doesn't seem enough. You marvel at this simple knot, the figure eight.

You've trusted knots, and you've trusted rope.Yet outside, suddenly everything seems so much more real. You can feel the wind, you can hear voices echoing off the boulders, and instead of bright colors of hardened plastic. you see the dull colors of rock.

Your friend. Your enemy. Your decider of fate.
The rock is everything.

I climb.

My feet and hands are fast. The climb is easier than I imagined. My heart is going fast.
But then I stop, and its unclear to me which foot should go next. Fear becomes sweat. Sweat becomes panic.

The basalt is cold and the wind is fierce. When I pictured rock climbing, I image bodies getting baked against the sun, but here I am, with the wind and sweat.

My body loves the stretch, my muscles love the force, but my mind wants to close. It wants to descend down. It wants to hid in the car. I think this sport is stupid.

I wonder if I'm suicidal just to be here on the rock. I check again, I don't feel suicidal. I feel stupid.

My hands have clawed into the rock. My grip is iron. I see no place to move.
Suddenly, I see a foothold. It is high, and if I lose my balance, I have to trust my belayer.

Trust. Trust is not easy. I don't want to trust.

I put my foot high. My balance is impeccable.It gives me more height to reach new rock.

I reach the top, and I am shocked I am here,

I want to come down, but I don't want to let go of the rock. My belayer has me, but I don't want to let go.

They say lean back, and I try but my hands won't loosen. Some part of  me wants to climb down. My brain argues with my mind that its safer to be lowered. My brain tells my mind that instinct has to go. My mind tells my brain that it is not to be ignored.

I let go. I trust but reluctantly.

Everyone is impressed how fast I climbed the rock. I tell them that "fear is a great motivator", but then think to myself that fear will not enable you to let go,

I stare at the wall and think, this is not my sport, and then climb up five times on 5 separate rocks.

It was a good day.

(I'm not on rope in this picture, I went as part of a intro to crock climbing class with the mountaineers)