Jul 31 2008
Kit and I went climbing, though we arrived with only enough time for him to go up the wall once and me twice before the rec center closed. He went first and did a challenging path that had him straddling a ridge for nearly a third of the way, but he made it with only a couple of cheating feet moves (where he used rocks not on the path).
Me, I’m not really at the point where I’m good with following paths yet. I’m just trying to get my arse up the wall. The first time, I only made it about as far up as last time, and I came down nearly in frustrated tears. I hear my head say, “I am so tired of being afraid of this,” while my outside voice instead of crying asks Kit to tell me what he thought I was doing wrong.
There’s time for another quick one, and that “pushed to the fustration point = new learning plateau” concept Steve talks about proves true in my life once again. This time I seem to have a more intuitive understanding of what I’m supposed to do, and I make it up the wall an entire bodylength further than I could previously go before I decide to come down. Another bodylength and I’ll be past the first major ridge, scant meters from the top.
Conclusion: I don’t have a fear of heights. It’s been the distrust of my body all along, and my body is healing.