I went bouldering this afternoon. January 2, 2009 in Boulder, CO. It’s over 60º and sunny (with a few pretty strong, gusty winds). One of the things I have been struggling with lately is a feeling of floating without focus; a sense of being untethered and unmoored in many aspects of my life. And I know that a great way to deal with those feelings is to take action. To simply do something.


However, knowing something in your head and understanding the concept on an intellectual level is very different than feeling it in your bones and (there it is again) actually taking action. 

So as Bracken and I were talking about our afternoon, the work we each had to do; what we’d hoped to have completed that morning (and hadn’t); and when we could fit a workout in, I realized that our discussion, in that moment, was a microcosm of my struggles. We were doing a lot of talking and discussing. And guess what? Were weren’t working, or climbing, or running. 

So I got up and simply said, “Let’s go. Now.” I began to gather my shoes and fill my new chalk bag up with chalk. I got the book out and picked a spot I’d wanted to try for a while, but hadn’t gotten around to it.

We set a return time (to assure we still got some work done) and set out. We drove the few miles up Flagstaff Road to the Monkey Traverse crag. I didn’t send any of the routes I’d targeted (or any others, for that matter). I didn’t even get off the ground on a few of them. But we finally found a route to work on. I was comfortable (it was a traverse, so low to the ground) and had a few moves I could do (good for the ego) and the opportunity for me to work out the rest.

I felt great. I didn’t send anything. I didn’t top out. I didn’t get off the ground on any of the V0′s I attempted. Yet I was outside. I was there. I showed up and tried. And I’m stoked to go back. I have a project. And I don’t care if I ever get it (well, maybe a little). It’s well above my current level of ability, yet I enjoyed the process. I’m excited to keep going back and trying.

I want to remember this moment. To revel in it and know that it’s not just a climbing experience. It’s so much more. It’s become my metaphor for living right now. It’s a physical reminder of what my brain knows so well, but has trouble translating to the rest of me (heart and body) to help take that much-needed action to move forward with everything else. The rough texture of my fingers and the ache in my arms are welcome right now.

My to-do list is waiting. I am ready to get going.