OFF THE WALL

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Denial

Head fights don’t just happen in climbing. In this case it’s not the ‘I can’t’ when I can, it’s ‘I can’, when I can’t. I’m an expert in the art of denial.

Aches and pains are part of an active life. Aren’t they? What’s wrong with climbing on overhanging walls until it hurts? What’s wrong with having disturbed sleep because my shoulder hurts? And isn’t it painful for every woman reaching behind her back to undo her bra?

It’s been a long time coming but, like a runaway train, it had to come to a stop at some point.

I haven’t climbed now for 2 weeks and 4 days.

After a head fight when the ‘I can’t’ won - brought on by the level of pain during a simple lead at the local climbing wall – I took myself off to the physiotherapist .

Once there I listened closely: especially to the part where she said ‘you don’t need to stop climbing’ (Reality is what one pays attention to). A Rotator cuff tendon issue (a shoulder thing). I followed Lovely Lisa’s advice: I took Ibuprofen and stuck a bag of frozen peas on it again and again. And I did the boring exercises with the Theraband and restricted gym visits to a few even more boring routines.

. ...And I carried on climbing. She did say I could do easy, gentle stuff. It’s great how words can be interpreted to mean exactly what you want- a bit like my approach to route finding.

It was a few days after the second visit to Lovely Lisa when it hit home. I’d gone to Cornwall, discovered the delights of Chair Ladder, (I won’t mention the greasy rock, bird shit and crumbly eye- filling lichen, and it was ‘easy gentle climbing’, honestly) and ended up at a less chronically tidal crag just around the corner. A few moves into a Severe lead there was a quick skirmish in my head followed quickly by a complete surrender. The ‘slight’ wrench I had given my shoulder on the climbing wall a couple of days before strangely hadn’t helped with the recovery. Hadn’t helped at all. It was very sore, worse than before- well probably not, but I panicked. Denial crumbled and acceptance poked me in the eye. I knew I shouldn’t be climbing at all. ‘What’s wrong’ asked Rob. ‘You don’t look very happy’.

Even then there was a bit of fight left in me - I could have walked away from the sea cliff, but no. I watched Dave do a VS very nicely and then went up after him, telling myself it would be last one for 2 weeks. I could only cope with the idea of 2 weeks.

So it’s now 2 weeks and 4 days and on my third visit to Lovely Lisa she tells me it’s all improving but the tendon is still inflamed, and to carry on with the tedious Theraband exercises and gym visits... No climbing until it’s settled down.

It’s a matter of ‘persistence and patience’ says Lovely Lisa. I try not to scream and I continue to make sure I ‘set ‘my shoulders correctly and I also set my mind on another 2 weeks. But it may be easier to extend that now: The real incentive is now a week’s ice climbing in January – and there’ll be no room for denial then if my shoulder gives out on 90 degrees of ice.

Posted by fishinwater

Cross Training

‘I did the half marathon last week...thinking of having a go at a full one this term. How you getting on with the Badminton Club?’

‘Yeah. Great. I thought I might try the hockey team this term. And I’ll be doing the marathon again this year. My time last year wasn’t so good. I’d like to better it.’

Oh God. Active Students at the bottom of the local crag. How come I’ve found myself rubbing shoulders with precisely the people I’d despise when I was a ‘stay in bed a lot and drink pints of lager a lot’ student? What have I become?

I’ve become a training dairy owning person; someone who puts their daily activity before all; someone who talks about ‘rest days’. At least I’m not as bad as Neil Gresham who says a rest day is a good day to go running. That’s mad.

All for the sake of climbing.

I run cross country. (A statement that makes me laugh at myself even now). It’s an activity I took up to stop the sweat, puff and aching shins of mountain walk-ins. I surprised myself by liking it and rely on it to clear head muddle after an office day.

I go to the gym. (I laugh even harder). Arthritic fingers aren’t meant to climb hard more than a couple of times a week – if I want to still be doing it in a few years time - so to keep hands, arms and shoulders all in good working order I subject myself to strange repetitive tasks in an airless enclosed space. I look at the masses on the treadmills and look out the window to the park beyond and just wonder ‘Why?’

The trouble is, all the previous exercise in my life has been surreptitious. I’ve not noticed it: I’ve never taken exercise for exercise sake. Gardening and labouring made me what I am and what I now want to maintain despite the fact I’m no longer a gardener and no longer have to do up a house.

This ‘exercise’ I now do isn’t part of a more fruitful activity, nor is it fun. So, what to do?

‘Cross training’ is now part of my vocabulary and I’ve found an excellent activity that is both fun and useful – Hula hooping. Great for core strength, balance and coordination. (And it increases the ability to laugh at yourself).

At the local primary school hall I spend an hour a week with Nick– a man who can twirl that thing with a passion - and a handful of snaky ladies. Never mind wiggly hips, we whirl the thing up, down, around , above and below the body: neck hooping is interesting and I just can’t get the hang of a hula with arms inside the hoop (Nick says it can take months). A ‘lift’ and a ‘drop’ is now part of my repertoire after nearly breaking the hall clock and braining the nearest class member to me. These are large and dangerous tools - I end up with aching shoulders and bruised hands and back...and I’ve laughed a lot.

Now that’s my sort of training.

Posted by fishinwater