My climbing buddy Emily came in at about 0910 hrs this morning and greeted me cheerfully as I was warming up on one of the auto belays at the climbing gym. She and Lucas got me a really awesome hat and two stickers (I love stickers!) for my birthday. Even better, though, was a belay partner for a few hours so I could work on “Chasing Dragons”, the green 5.8 arête route that I have been working on. About an hour after Em got there, 50 fifth-graders came in. Surprisingly enough, they were very well-behaved, and I complimented their teacher on their behavior. For excited fifth-graders on a field trip to a climbing gym, they were extremely courteous and controlled! I was still able to concentrate while they were there and I climbed until I was comfortably fatigued and had worked up a good sweat and a great forearm pump. Emily was in the zone and did a few more burns than I did. It was great to get to climb with her. I does not happen that we are there at the same time very often since the new gym opened and our schedules change so frequently. Em even bailed me out of a nightmare political conversation! I do not talk politics or religion with people unless I know them quite well and want to know their views on things (and that it will not spoil our relationship). I stay clear away from those two areas on purpose, especially at the climbing gym. Some people need to vent, though, and I understand that. Emily to the rescue. “How about you get on the wall, Chris?” YES! Excellent idea! How about I do that! I so appreciated that. The political venting had taken its toll, though. I had temporarily lost my concentration and drew a blank on my beta just before the crux of “Chasing Dragons”. I had Emily lower me. She got me back on track, though. It all turned out well. I had a great time climbing! I gave Em a big hug as she left and then I logged my climbs on MyClimb.
Content Rating PG, for the most part
I try to keep the content of my posts in the PG range (meaning that maybe your 13-year-old should not read it... Just kidding!) - you know, something I could get away with tastefully in the town square without getting lynched, tarred-and-feathered, or hung (and something my mother would NOT wash my mouth out with soap for). As far as what age you have to be to understand some of the subtleties of my humor in writing and/or speaking, well... That may vary. A lot.