Friday Morning Scramble

Photo by: Mike Thurk

I woke up frazzled and disorganized. I scrambled around the house looking for my shorts with pockets and a caffeinated gel, grabbed my keys and was out the door within seconds. I was still late though, only 3 minutes, I could make it up. A little extra cardio was good for me.

I finally caught the group. It seemed everyone else was in harnesses. Sh*t, I thought, why am I such a mess. I tried to push back all the negative emotions that were coming up for me and focus on the task at hand. Just catch my breath and go up the rock. It was a new route for me. In a jumble of thoughts and emotions, I looked down at my feet, wearing my TX Guides. Yes, I trust them today, I thought. I will be okay on this rock. I started up, following the scramblers in front of me methodically.

I reached a cruxy section. I paused, giving myself space to work the easiest sequence and re-establish my trust in my feet and body position. Slow is smooth, smooth is fast - and safe, I reminded myself. Suddenly, I looked up. There was no one in front of me anymore. How is this possible - I only paused for a few seconds, I thought. I took a deep breath, fighting back tears. My face flushed hot with shame and anger. Just keep moving, it's fine, you'll find them at the top, I told myself.

I continued moving up the rock. More methodically now, because I was alone. I had to take great care to find the best line without the comfort of someone in front of me to follow. There was lots of lichen, and it wasn't obvious. I reached another cruxy section. I hesitated for a long time. More scramblers who must have started late were coming up behind me. 'Er, this way?' I asked. They pointed out the moves through the next crux. I was grateful, but soon, I lost them too. Everyone, it seemed, was already off the rock and running down the trail to the next one. The rock started to blur beneath me as tears welled up in my eyes.

Despair and the wave of emotions I'd been pushing down flooded over me and I started bawling. But weirdly, and differently, it wasn't about fear. I wasn't scared of falling today, because I was making the choices I needed to in order to be safe.

It was about so many other things. It was about grief - grief for the person I used to be before my accident. Grief that I could no longer compartmentalize feelings about safety in order to keep up. The grief of knowing so blatantly the risks and consequences of what I was doing - something few can relate to and definitely something I could compartmentalize away before. The grief of knowing that I had wanted to belong to this elite group for years, and the realization that it might not be in the cards for me anymore. That it might not be aligned with who I have become. All the feelings that go along with an ego death, I guess. I suppose there was some fear - the fear, and shame, of feeling not 'good enough' to keep up.

Most of all, it triggered a deep trauma response for me related to the fall I took on the Diamond last year, in a way that no climbing experience since then has. I felt myself in the same body I was in that day - choosing to rush to prove myself to my partner. It was a body I never wanted to be in again, a presence that was worth so little to myself I would choose to rush over safety, to compartmentalize things as ‘fine.’

But I didn't make that choice today. I chose to slow down, but unfortunately there was a consequence for that choice as well. It meant I was alone, onsighting a new route, another risky behavior I'd chosen to move away from for the most part. It wasn't a choice I wished to have to make, and I was angry at myself for putting myself in this position. Angry that I wasn't keeping up and no one cared. Angry that I didn't feel like I belonged.

A couple group members stayed with me as I finished the downclimb on the first rock in my tears. I was thankful for that. As I said thank you and bailed back to my truck, deciding it was best not to continue to try to catch the group on the next rock, the tears continued. I felt overwhelmed by the stupid trauma of my accident - that it was something I would never be able to escape. That the trauma would always come up in the worst possible moment when I felt like I needed to perform. That I would never be as 'good' as I once was, and people would see that - would see me as a wreck who couldn't hold it together anymore, never really made a 'full' recovery. I knew damn well I had the physical capacity to move up that rock fast, yet somehow, I had not. The trauma felt like it was isolating me from my dreams and goals and opportunities. How had I not moved past all this yet?

I took a shower and the emotions calmed. I knew that's not really how it was. I could have rushed up the rock this morning, and I probably would have been fine. But I chose not to. I chose to do what felt right for me, and that's not a choice that's easy to make when it's not something you are in the habit of doing. When you're in the habit of suppressing your feelings to be accepted as part of the group, to be seen as badass and cool and stuff. I'd have felt horrible after, as if I had betrayed myself like I have done so many times before. I’d have wondered again if I even liked climbing. Today I had experienced peeling off another layer of the onion or the ego, of letting go, and listening to my intuition. It was painful at the time but I was OK.

And while there's something to be said about learning to experience these emotions with more equanimity, that's why it's okay that the trauma will always be integrated with me in some way - it's not supposed to be another part that gets suppressed and overridden and conquered - it's there to remind me and help me learn to be the best, truest version of myself. Some days, like today, that's a tough lesson to feel. But I'm proud of myself for feeling it and listening to it. Can't wait to get back on the rocks.