Mike belays Sarah Jane as she ends a climb, which she was
unusually glad was over. Photo by Perry Habecker
His voice was as calm as the summer sky. His unwavering serenity gave me hope.
“You need to move your feet. You've been doing the same thing with your hands.”
Which was scouring the rock for holds that weren't there. Lichen peeled off, landing on my face and chest. (Which I didn't notice till after I was making sweet eyes at a hot bartender that night. Then when I sauntered into the bathroom for a drunken piss, I looked in the mirror and saw little flakes stuck to my skin. Sexy!)
Meanwhile, Alvaro was right. I knew it, but I didn't know how to follow his simple advice. Finally I swung my left leg around the corner, but putting weight on it while moving my right foot seemed impossible. And if I didn’t land the move, I was going to pendulum into the opposite side of the rock.
After more distracting chatter in my mind, more hesitation, I realized I had no choice but to move. Or I would be stuck on Moro Rock forever.
I shifted my weight onto the leg bent around the curve ... and landed it!
I was happy. I was relieved.
But I could only be so proud.
I had played myself. Hard.
I had turned into a whimpering, panicky mess.
In life overall, that's not how I see myself. I am not a sniveler ... I thought.
But then, I was.
Replaying the scene in my mind, I have come to this conclusion: I ended up doing the move after a half hour of sniveling, so I could have done it quicker without the sniveling.
That panicky attitude cannot be my destiny. I have to change or I am going to feel ashamed – not because I played myself in front of my friends, but because I wasn’t the strong person I wanted to be.
The next time I find myself in a scary spot, I have to remember I can prevent this disappointment if I push on through with a quickness. I don’t need to be fearless, but I need to act like it. For me.
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