I can not help it. Every time I go Pacific Edge or Planet Granite or Ironworks, I inevitably spin a hold. I'm thrown off the wall and splatter onto the pads below the bouldering or the rope cinches on my waist and I smash into the wall. I blame the plastic. Slopers are slimy, crimps too small, and the over sized handle bars have nothing to hold onto. In the rare instance that I can grapple one of these Metolious branded pieces of shit, the rig cartwheels on me and BAM! I'm off.
It was with some trepidation that I met Drew at Ironworks this morning. I wanted to bail. My forearms burned from climbing the day before. My ropes needed to be cut, haulbags cleaned, my clothes desperately needed a bath. But I went.
Drew "The Iceman" rolled up to the gym on his Ducati, flipped off the low growl of the motor, and busted out his brand new rock boots. He only climbs at the gym "Once a week." Right. After flailing on some of the "easy" problems, I walked over to the wave, the steep convex portion of the bouldering wall, where the Iceman was hiking. Drew dispensed with a couple "casual" problems and poured himself a cup of coffee from his super heated thermos. His girlfriend had just crushed her medical boards the day before and Drew entertained a life as a stay at home man, raising their 2.1 children in their baller home in Berkeley.
"I could just stay home. Man I'd get sick at climbing." I nodded and continue to flail on his "warmup". My lady friend is down too. How cool is that?"
A jealous smile creased my lips. "Did you back step here? Is this v5 hard?"
"No, dude, it's like V3. "
And then with a bunch of beta from the Iceman, I fired a v5. Then I fired another v5. Then I flashed a v4. My greatest gym climbing session ever! I was ready to retire. No spun holds, no dealing with douche bags (other than myself and the Iceman) and serious cranking.
Yeah, so this post seems asinine but I'll end it with an important piece of information just for you:
I'm kind of a Big Deal.