Friday, 25 February 2011

Cul-de-sac


One week into my training I got sick. Good start, I thought. At the end of my second week I went to Brean Down, keeping my New Year's resolution, still not having fully recovered: 6c+ was all I could manage, but overall feeling wasn’t too bad. Meanwhile I bought myself a brand new training “bible”.

The “new testament” differs from the “old testament” in that it doesn’t have ready-to-use recipes to onsight Action Directe; rather, it discusses and looks at training from different angles, giving loads of examples, and forcing the reader into thinking and reasoning more about the “dark art of training”, my conclusion being, of course, I got it all wrong.

Up until now, I have just been climbing a lot, thinking of bouldering as the way to increase my core strength and power and lead climbing as the way to improve my climbing in general. Sure I had rare sessions on the campus board, circuits’ room and the system wall, but I never really bothered to fit these into my training schedule properly.

Now, “climbing a lot” took my quite far, considering I’m an old bastard. I’ve put a lot of effort into my training. I learned not to care about topping every route I try, it’s the quality I’m after, the stuff I can keep being good at in the years to come. The Master made it very clear. He said: “you are not young, but you are far from being old”. I was actually going to cry when he said that, but then I realised there is no point deceiving myself into thinking otherwise.

People talk about plateau in their performance. I have been through few of them, but now I think I actually hit a dead end. I know it sounds a bit pessimistic, but it doesn’t mean I think I am hopeless. It just means I had to admit I have made decisions, not necessarily the right ones, that led me to where I am, however without scope for going any further. It means I have to “go back a little” and “try a different way”. By the way, I have experienced the same feeling in other aspects of my life and this could be a good lesson to learn from. You never know, I might learn something this time.

Let’s start with “going back a little”.

First of all I need to know what my climbing level is. This is not my hardest redpoint or hardest onsight. According to the “new testament”, this is the highest grade I feel I can onsight, let’s say, with a 90% probability of success, or I can send within two or three attempts. Thinking carefully and being honest to myself, I think my onsight level is 7a and my redpoint level is 7b. Interesting: I was there about two years ago! Then I pushed further evidently without any control onsighting 7b+ and redpointing 8a, but that’s not my level at all! Clearly, somewhere along the line, I got it horribly wrong.

Looking back, I realise that up to my actual climbing level, I moved very carefully making sure I wasn’t leaving anything behind. I took good care of all aspects of my climbing. Then something distracted me, above all, the grades fever. If I want to move further, I have to go back two years, find out what it is that I left behind, don’t get distracted again, and amend it as quickly as I can.

Now, let’s look at “trying a different way”.

I need control. I need to learn how to master the terrain I’m climbing on. It’s good for my ego knowing I can work a 7c+ and send it in a couple of days, but that’s not my level and never will be. It will disappear and I will need the same couple of days one year down the line, unless I change something. Ticking harder grades it’s not the only way to measure improvements. In fact, it’s the most deceiving one. It means I have to learn to appreciate and enjoy more what I can do already and learn how to do it better. I’ll move on only when I’ll be ready to move on and it will happen naturally. That’s what I think I need to do differently this time.

The Westway is a “lab” and it is unfortunately full of negative examples and I’m afraid I think I have been one of them. To qualify as bad example you first have to be a regular. And I am very much a regular. Then you have to be obsessed and fanatic about climbing to the extent that you can’t talk or think about anything else. I fully comply with that too. Then you have to, at some point, have been able to climb well over your actual abilities. Here I am; it’s me again. Finally, you have to not have been able to repeat that performance again. I’m proud to say I meet all requirements.

It’s consoling the fact that I am not the worst offender though. Most people in the lab think they’re weak and keep bouldering and campussing as there was no tomorrow. Forget about Induttanza. There are people that are so strong that could rip the holds off the wall as they climb. Then there are those who think don’t have stamina. Yet, they do nothing about it. They keep bouldering and campussing ad libitum thinking that having more power will make the gods forgetting about the entropy increase they cause while they climb. The lab is a very dangerous place. It can become a cul-de-sac where you find yourself in good company and where it’s difficult to get out from. When the Master told me “you climb like somebody who has climbed at the Westway for years”, I have to say, I never felt so offended in my life. Then again I have in fact been climbing at the Westway for years, so that can’t be too far from the truth.

However, the lab is my gym and I am weird enough to actually like it. The path to improvement goes through specific and quality training aimed at increasing my climbing level, rather than hysterically seeking to peak on some unrepeatable feat. It’s a slight change in perspective that means everything to me. I won’t let myself getting stuck in a cul-de-sac. If I can manage that, then I have a good chance to get out of other cul-de-sacs in my life, meaning I will have learnt an important lesson.

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