and up we go

I was gently peer pressured into trying climbing. It was not something I had never ever thought about myself but there had been little reason to go, even if it looked like a fun way to waste time.

Last week I managed to book a place in an introductory class and after that I spent the rest of the week counting minutes to my 5hours of torture.

We were six novices in the group, all equally clueless about what to expect but all equally eager to get out there and go up and up and up.

The first hour we knotted. A figure of eight or a snowman or what ever you want to call it was repeated over and over and over and over again until our instructor was convinced that we all mastered it perfectly. After all it would later serve as out lifeline.

Then belaying. How to ensure that the person somewhere up the wall will not fall flat on the floor if he looses his grip. A rather useful skill to have.

Then off we went. First in one group. Then in two groups. Then in pairs.

I tried the two lowest levels and found them rather easy. Almost annoyingly so. Must try something more difficult.

And that’s where the fun started.

I tumbled down the last one, hitting my knee hard on the wall. I gave it another two tries but got stuck at the same spot. My arms felt weak and powerless and I could already imagine what my muscles would tell me the following day.

I glanced at the route one more time but decided to let it be. For now. First thing next time though.

We ended the course by swapping numbers and trying to find time for the next session as soon as possible. Tomorrow? The day after? Three times this week?

I could see my renewed social life fly out the window and my life turn into a series of questions – should I run or climb or climb or run or run and climb or climb and run?

The dilemma.
And now, there is a yellow pair of climbing shoes next to my bed, eagerly waiting for the first climb. Tonight. And tomorrow. And this weekend. Twice.