Saturday is the worst day to go to Vertical Heaven, the local climbing gym. Saturday is Birthday Party Day, and the gym is likely to be filled with grade school grommets, running, jumping off stuff, throwing chalk bags at each other.
The kids aren’t the problem. They zip about like supercharged neutrinos, never colliding with someone of larger mass. The parents aren’t the problem, they huddle together near the sofas and gab with each other.
I’m the problem. You see, on College Night (Thursday) when I’m watch someone muscle her way up a V.7 bouldering problem, it’s like watching the Bolshoi Balett. I don’t even imagine myself on the same stage. I’ve only been doing this a couple of months, and at age 50 I’m getting a pretty late start at that. No blame.
But on Birthday Party Day everyone is a beginner. And then I start comparing. See that larval middle school boy? I bet I can outclimb him..
It’s just plain sad when a chicklet in My Little Pony sneakers shoots to the top of a 5.7 pitch and I’m struggling to get up a 5.5.
(Photo courtesy of Vertical Heaven climbing gym, Ventura)