Footage from 2014 USA Paraclimbing Nationals

I came across this video posted on USA Paraclimbing's Facebook page:

Post by USA Paraclimbing.

I was surprised to be featured as much as I am in this video, as I often think that I am not a particularly "marketable" poster-child for paraclimbers/para-athletes/people with disabilities. It was instructive to see myself climb; I notice that I waste a bit of energy "tugging" on holds to check how secure I am, rather than just dead-pointing and latching on to them. A friend remarked that I climb indoors as if I am climbing outdoors, where I am often testing the rock/hold out. Oh well, it's not necessarily a bad habit, I think. It just means I have to be conscious of the differences climbing on secure plastic holds versus sketchy hollow flakes.

I have not put on a climbing shoe since Spain. I really wanted to give my fingers and foot a fighting chance at healing; so, naturally, I decided, well, if I can't crimp or use my feet, I'll just do lots of pull-up exercises on big jugs. Well, as usual, I over-did things a bit there and acquired a bad case of tennis elbow on my left side. Again, it is funny how these relatively minor injuries still get me incredibly down. The elbow tendinosis has been a real pain actually; lifting even a dinner plate on that side is painful. So, I've been resting, avoiding any lock-off/pulling - which eliminates bouldering (unless it is on slab) because I down-climb when I boulder. 

I was particularly down the last two weeks; and it often elicits the question of whether happiness is a choice or not? Obviously, this is a discussion worthy of a lengthy article/text. I still struggle with the fact that my sources of happiness and rejuvenation lie in relatively few baskets. My current surroundings fail to energize me, like the mountains and geography of the West do. And it often feels like a burden to think that I only feel the most alive when I am pushing it i.e. trying not to die, on a climb outside. It makes me sad to think that perhaps I expect more out of life than the average-Joe, and fall into a deep depression when I am not able to derive pleasure from the mundane. 

I know my perspectives are coloured by my chronic pain issues (neuropathy in the left leg, and all the pain related to the hardware in my spine and pelvis) and the associated insomnia. One sleepless, pain-ridden night this past week was the first time in awhile, where I honestly felt like, I am done. I wasn't sure if I could endure many more years of chronic pain, a life of continued physical decline, and all the stuff related to aging, layered on top of the existing issues.

I am turning 33 tomorrow. Turning 33 is kind of a non-event. With the exception that, for a fleeting year, I am a palindrome. But, like a solar cycle, this happens every 11 years (that actually is the duration of a solar cycle :)) I was hoping to celebrate my birthday in a more exciting way; perhaps climbing 33 pitches outside (had to put my Yosemite trip on hold due to all the injuries), doing 330 pullups, 330 pushups etc. within 33 hours of my birthday. But, the injuries mean I have to put all that stuff on hold till next year. 'Cause, really  it is just silliness. Now, I'm only slightly bummed that I am not doing something gnarly. But, doing the usual lifting/conditioning conditioning/rehab exercises; maybe putzing about and testing things out on super easy climbs indoors; having my Mum cook Asian dishes I miss when I am here (my Mum and I have not lived on the same continent, let alone been in the same time-zone - and on my birthday - for over 17 years); eating a delicious home-made miso-caramel-apple tarte-tartin; hanging out with my sister, niece, nephew (the canine variety) and brother-in-law; and then a lovely dinner at a lovely French restaurant in Boston called Deuxave on Sunday night, isn't so bad.

Day 7: Farewell Gijon, Hello Madrid

Left Gijon today. The shuttle to Oviedo was shared with many other countries’ climbing teams and it made me feel a little strange. I think these kinds of competitions will be things I dabble in; I am never going to get paid to do this stuff, nor promote myself in a way to get funding to spend 35+ hrs/week training, like some paraclimbers.

We arrived in Madrid and went straight to our hotel, which is an 8 minute walk to the Museo del Prado. Doing something completely different reminds me that there is much more to me and my interests than climbing. I finally got to see Goya’s Black Paintings and El Bosch’s The Garden of Earthly Delights, which pleased me greatly. The Museo del Prado’s collection of Spanish and Flemish art is outstanding. I didn’t have any expectations, really, but the density and curation of artwork surprised me. Unfortunately, no photography was permitted.

We ended up enjoying a cool Madrid evening with the setting sun over tapas in Plaza Santa Ana.

I could not sleep, due to various physical pains, but also because I was still processing this whole experience. I feel like I had let the pressures of (self) competition interfere with what climbing at this competition should have been about, which is a celebration of how far I have come since my accident. Instead, I let it be some kind of judgment of myself.

I do not like how I let these para-climbing competitions elicit ungracious thoughts in my head, like, comparing levels of disability, or number of competitors/finalists in a given category. I just have to accept that it won’t be a level playing field and it is what it is. I can choose to participate, or not.  I’m thinking I might enter competitions against able-bodied folks, get my ass kicked, but feel good about it.

A friend wrote to me, and I think his words hold some merit:

“Wendy, I have been thinking about your happenings and, in a nut shell, my feeling is that you might realize the most satisfaction getting along as a "normal" person rather than defining your life as a champion disabled person. It seems silly that the state of competition is such that people end up arguing how disabled someone is. It also saddens me to see that you would risk permanent injury to your all-important fingers…Most people have problems that impact their day to day lives.  The nature of the problems of course varies..  The challenge seems to me is to adapt to living notwithstanding the problem, not to have the problem defining who you are as a person.”

It is true; I don’t want to be some kind of “champion disabled person”. I feel like the way I inspire people is to put my head down and quietly do my own thing. I have received so many touching messages from friends who have reminded me that my harsh judgment of myself, for finishing 4^th in a really strong field at my first international competition reflects that I have the spirit and heart of a champion, regardless of whether I finished 1^st or 4^th. Every one uniformly agrees that I am being too hard on myself, duh. I thought my accident had made me much more easy-going and kinder to myself; but, as this experience reveals, this is not always the case. I sometimes wonder if my accident has made me more empathic, but perhaps less sympathetic to other people.

Sometimes I think my introspection is a tremendous curse. It makes me ponder and wonder about many things, that I should perhaps just let go of and just let be. On the other hand, I like to think there is tremendous value to all additional memory that goes towards all this processing.

I hope the injuries acquired are lesser than the strength and insight gained.

Thank you for following this brief episode in my life. I am looking forward to the next piece of news to share.

Gijon: Day 7 - Restaurant Auga

After the disappointment of not medalling on Saturday, I felt like I was not worthy of a Michelin star meal, but Scott insisted that we should have at least one really amazing meal on this trip and celebrate a rather lovely week in a rather lovely place. I agreed and we managed to get a lunchtime reservation at Restaurant Auga, located near the marina in Gijon.

Now, I really enjoy good food but I am in no way a food-blogger. But, I’ll go ahead and post pictures from our meal. The pictures are in order of service. I managed to eat every thing; you can fit a lot into a small package.  The food and service were excellent, and the atmosphere was refined but unpretentious. I think this restaurant is bordering/in the 2-star realm.

I certainly can’t eat like this all the time and will need to de-blerch when I get back to the States. I think I have consumed more queso in the last week than I have in the last year. I especially like the slightly dry and crumbly Asturian blue cheese with membrillo.

Gijon - Day 6: Finals Day

I apologize for the delay in posting. I am writing this a few days after the fact and am still processing this whole experience. As always, these things make me (re)evaluate the choices I make, why I choose to prioritize certain things over others, and why things make me feel the way I do.

There was a natural break between the top-4 women in my category and the remaining women; so I’m glad us top four made it to the Finals. I really did not know what to expect in terms of route-setting. I imagined it might be something long and steep, but with fairly large holds. We entered isolation around 3pm, and were not allowed to view the route till 6.45pm. My heart sank as I viewed the route they had given my category. It was probably the most boring route; it went straight up and was simply a how-small-a-hold can you hold on to kind of route. My broken fingers were silently weeping. It also meant I had to pogo up the route a lot, with holds stacked on top of another, as opposed to moving side to side with both legs, possibly. 

On the Finals route - I had trouble controlling the large flesh coloured lie-back hold

Finals Route - smallest holds and probably the most boring

In the end, one hold separated me from 3^rd place, and 3 holds separated 4^th place (me) and 1^st place.  My first instinct/reaction is to apologize for not being able to get the job done and come back with a medal. I guess having the separation between us be so small is a good thing, because I know I am just as strong, if not stronger than these women, and can place/win if I am uninjured. But being so close also makes me think if I only I had it in me to gut out one more hold, or if I had read the large lie-backy hold that I ended up falling on better, I could have placed. In the end, it’s kind of stupid to replay these things in my head. I know this is a learning experience and a stepping-stone towards a medal, if I choose to compete in these indoor comps. I am a bit more familiar with the kinds of holds they use in Europe, which prior to this competition, were completely alien to me. They tend to be smaller, but more positive; deceptive, and harder to pick out what kind of hold it will be from the ground, but perhaps that will come with more experience.

A friend wrote to me, saying that I was still early in my development of my new climbing style; I guess there is some truth to that. I do know there is a ton of room for improvement, which motivates me.

Gijon: Day 5 - Rest day

Friday was a rest day before Finals on Saturday. It was a rather lazy, uneventful day, involving walking to Cimavilla, eating (no exaggeration) about a pound of bonito (tuna) and pan, followed by more sweets from the nearby pasteleria (carbo-loading, right?); I was glad to have some slightly fatty tuna in me as I waded into the slightly chilly water at Playa de San Lorenzo. It was pretty nice to be able to sun-bathe and walk around topless without anyone giving you a second look. I do appreciate what seems to be a greater comfort with one's body here, than in the U.S., say.

The format for tomorrow is (all times GMT +2):

1500: Isolation opens
1545: Isolation closes. All competitors must be in isolation before this time otherwise they will be disqualified.
1645: Route viewing
1700: Climbing begins for the Paraclimbing Masters categories (categories which had four or less competitors)
1900: My category climbs a bit after this (although there will probably be delays)
2100: Award ceremony

Trying not to throw up. I wish I were better at effectively translating nerves into stoke. It's weird, because that is a skill that comes with practice and I've had lots of practice with other competitive sports prior to my accident. But, for some reason, I don't have this confidence in myself right now. I know I should see this as a celebration of how far I have come since my accident, and a pretty big achievement given the magnitude of the accident and how I have only been indoor-climbing less than a year. But I still feel tremendous pressure (from myself) to medal because I know I am pretty strong and capable of doing so. I think the biggest let-down will be if I did not climb to the best of my abilities.

The IFSC Paraclimbing Finals can be viewed live here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=In_wfczl0q8

Gijon: Day 4 - Qualifying Day

Writing this one day later, so I might not capture all the emotions and events of yesterday.

I was scheduled to be in the first group to climb at 9am, and also the second climber, so after a fitful night of sleep, chugging many espressos, and forcing down a bit of food, we made our way over to the Palacio des Desportes early in the morning to give me time to warm-up. As I was walking over, I wondered to myself why do I even do these things when they just make me feel so nervous and, frankly, not very good.

The warm-up wall was good and I was able to work up a little sweat before cooling down again. The format of qualifiers was a flash-format, so we were able to watch an official climb the route on video in the warm-up area beforehand. Still, the setting style and holds are quite different here so I did not know what to expect.

There are a lot of very strong women in my category (Neurological and Physical Disability A - Category A is more "able-bodied" than Category B, but there is a lot of debate over how the paraclimbers are assessed, how disabilities in different parts of the body are weighted, etc. I would argue that it isn't quite fair. I saw women in my category who has less function than women in Category B, myself included. But, whatever, it's not like it is the Olympics or a professional event). It was a bit intimidating but also really cool to see strong women similar to myself. One Italian climber in particular, has muscular dystrophy and a very weak left leg as a result, so it was neat to see someone climb like me and pogo up routes, flag her left leg a lot etc.

I climbed nervously and hurriedly for my first qualifying route. No tricky holds; the route was probably a 5.10+ just for length and steepness. It was enough to top out and put me along four women for a four-way tie for first place going into the second qualifying route: http://www.ifsc-climbing.org/index.php/world-competition#!comp=1501&cat=121&route=0

Blast-off. They had two ropes attached to us so that we wouldn't take too big a swing out if we fell.

Mid-route, Qualifying Route 1

Very strong and tall Italian climber in my category

My second qualifying route was scheduled to be climbed starting at noon, but the entire schedule was shifted by 5 hrs. I had just finished warming up for the second time when the announcement was made, so it was a bit untimely. The team got a lazy lunch but I was still anxious because I was in the first category to climb again. Walking to and from the venue, warming up again...felt like ground-hog day.

The second route made me nervous because I knew it was a lot harder (5.12) and I just didn't have a good idea about what the holds would be like because the holds they use here are really quite different to anything I have seen in the U.S. I saw other women in my category fall off anywhere from 25-75% of the way up the route, but what worried me were these sections where a left foot would be key/useful. Again, I did not climb as well as I could have. I think the biggest thing was nerves and tunnel vision. I did not use my rests to scope out the moves ahead, like I usually do. So, need to remember to breathe, relax and climb smart.

Near the start of the second qualifying route

Higher up. Making the transition to the left from that volume to the next one up and left of it was hard for me because I just didn't stay calm and read the route well and figure out where to put my right foot.

In any case, I ascended high enough on this route to make it to Finals (top 4) on Saturday. The finals will be broadcast via live-feed, so if you have nothing better to do this Saturday 1500 hr (GMT +2), you can watch it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=In_wfczl0q8

Using my rest day to let the broken bits of me calm down a bit. Super nervous, still, but glad to be here.

My internet connection is horribly slow, but I will post pictures of the other paraclimbers at some point. I had never seen a lot of visually-impaired climbers climb and seeing their stamina as they hang out and reach around for holds was incredible. As was seeing some upper-body amputees missing entire arms (and even collarbones) use their incredible core-strength to stick to a wall. Quite a few of the lower-limb amputees choose to climb without their prosthetic and just pogo up the wall. Very impressive, and shows me just how much stronger I can get.

Gijon: Day 3

After waking up to find that my fingers were not able to bend, I decided that climbing today was not the best idea. So we slept in, had a lazy breakfast and then strolled over to watch some of the qualifiers for the Men's Lead competition. As always, it was very impressive to see the ease with which some of these climbers ascend these hard, long routes.

Seeing how tall and somewhat overhanging the routes are makes me very nervous about my strength and stamina. I am also a bit bummed I am one of the first climbers, meaning I won't have as much time to read the routes and see other climbers climb it before me many times.

Start list and running order: http://www.ifsc-climbing.org/index.php/world-competition#!comp=1501&cat=121

Not excited about climbing first (NPD 1 - Women) and having a 3 hour wait between climbs.

Anyway, it is all nerves and I'm just bitching I guess. I also don't know how they decided which routes each of the categories will climb. I am guessing Route A is the hardest and D is the easiest, but that is just a guess. I really hope to at least put in a good showing and make it up most of the way up the routes, but I am guessing that will not be the case for Route A :-(

We took a gentle stroll around another peninsula/headland, which offered rather lovely views of Cimavilla and San Lorenzo beach. The coastline and geography is very North Atlantic, which is quite foreign to me.

Cimavilla

View of Playa de San Lorenzo

Also, Spanish public park equipment is pretty awesome: