Sunday, January 6, 2019

Day 6: we climb

OMG YOUGUYS. Today, I hung from a wall. 

I signed up for a beginner 'taster' session at our local rock climbing gym - Hackney Wick Bouldering Project - and spent the past two hours flinging myself at chunks of plastic, in the throes of terror. 

Why is it so HIGH? And am I really expected to reach for a handhold way up there when I'm barely clinging on to the one I've got here? I CAN'T LET THAT HAND GO IT'S A VALUABLE HAND IT'S KEEPING ME ALIVE RIGHT NOW. Our instructor called out helpful instructions like, 'Pivot your knees and swing to the left!' PIVOT? On this little piece of gum that my toes are barely perched on? SWING? Like I can support my own body weight using my ARMS? WHAT DOES HE THINK I AM? Strong? Agile? Capable of following directions?  

This was taken about two feet off the ground, right before I decided that was high enough and returned to the sweet sweet safety of earth.

One thing I did learn, though: don't wear anything dark because you will get covered in chalk. FASHION TIP. It's all I got to offer here. 

The best (WORST) part was the slanted wall. Our teacher clearly saved this for last because this was the part that broke me physically, rendering my arms obsolete floppers far more efficiently than eight hours of hedge trimming did. We had pull ourselves up using just our arms, a task I found - with no exaggeration - physically impossible. It was such a comedy trying to get myself up the expanse that at one point the teacher himself had to PUSH me up. I was the only one in the class he had to assist, so needless to say I felt pretty powerful. 


Al, of course, loved it and monkeyed up half the paths without any trouble, a fact I'm adding to my Reasons for Divorce file. 

Now we're meeting friends for a pint next door to the gym (we're nothing if not exemplars of moderation) and then limping home. 

Happy Sunday, y'all!

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