Sunday, 5 December 2010

How I almost didn't cheat at climbing

I had so much fun yesterday, once the shopping was done and I and my friends had found a cosy café. We were there for hours, talking politics, films, training, over cups of coffee and hot chocolate. Outside darkness had fallen when we left the café, and the city's Christmas lights together with the snow that covered the pavement really got me into the holidays mood. The home baked gingerbread biscuits that I got as a present from my friends certainly helped.

Today's climbing went better than last week's fiasco. I decided to try a 6B, thinking it would probably be way too hard. First time I tried, I had to stop and rest 5-6 times. Second time I just flew up, not hesitating, just doing it. Husband lowered me down to the ground after I completed it, saw the self-satisfied grin on my face and said "Wow! Well done!". Then he said "But you cheated". The look I gave him would have turned milk sour.

He explained that, when I did a certain manoeuvre, I relied on the rope to pull it off, hence I cheated. After arguing in vain that, as long as my hands and feet were on the grips, I wasn't relying on the rope, I had to admit that it was cheating. My ego deflated, I nevertheless had to show I could manage without cheating. So I tried again. And again. And again. And I failed every time. My fingers ached, I scratched my arms, I bumped my knee. But nothing hurt as much as my wounded self-esteem. But next time? Next time I'll show him I can do it.

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