So I fell off the rock wall again today. Thank God, I wasn’t injured by it, but I didn’t leave unscathed. This wasn’t the white V1 that I had been struggling with for weeks, and eventually tried to complete with a daring leap of faith. This was the pink V1 route that I had consistently been sending. Something was not right about my climbing methodology.
In reality, it might not even be the methodology that was flawed; it was the philosophy. Simply put, I got cocky. Having come a few centimeters within sending the white V1, I guess somewhere in my subconscious, I thought I was good to go on all the other routes; I forgot how terrifying that few centimeters became as I hurtled down towards the crash pad. As I jumped to reach the top, the exultation of finally solving the problem began crumbling as I realized that I was going down much faster than I had anticipated. I looked down and saw my landing space dwindle to the very corner of the crash pad. As I landed, my thighs smashed together and ended the lives of untold numbers of progeny. I collapsed onto the crash pad and lay sideways, fetal position, for a good three minutes, feeling the pain travel up to the stomach. This second fall was nowhere as bad, but it told of worse things to come; I had become too arrogant, no longer humble before the rock, and I was no longer focused in my moves. While daring is always a welcome characteristic in any artist, the cost of daring can prove to be a daunting price to pay. However, this daring wasn’t what propelled me to half-heartedly reach for the top hold in the pink route – that daring was displayed on the white route. This pink-route plunge was laziness; this was complacency. Complacency kills.
And so, I was handed a blood-pressure spike as a warning. My time will come if I just approach climbing with the same diligence and poise as when I first started. I just need to be patient as the rock is patient.