Today i did nothing. Nuh. Theeng. Nada. Yesterday, however, as well as the day before, i went climbing. It convinced me of two things. Or rather, it convinced me of at least two things. That is to say, i'll start out with two things i was convinced of, and if i feel like it, or if it just seems somehow appropriate, i'll add in more things, which i might very well find i have also been convinced of. And i will do so without apology. First, i am actually as fat as i was afraid i might be. Incredible how gravity takes an extra handful of kilos and runs with it. There was significantly more gravity in that climbing gym than i remembered.
Second, rest is terribly useful-- maybe as useful as all those training rags, and books, and gurus make it out to be. In spite of the extra gravity, i was pulling on stuff i couldn't pull on just before we left for vacation.
Third, the wrong kind of rest is no so bueno. After less than two weeks off my forearms are sore-- as in, it-hurts-to-click-on-the-mouse sore; as in shifting-gears-(while-beneficial)-might-just-finish-off-a-tendon sore.
Fourth, sitting on my ass for 14 hours a day and drinking hard liquor in available free moments turns out to be the wrong kind of rest.
At any rate, the gym had a comp on friday, so there's lots of fun new routes up, and they bought a ton of new plastic for it. It's eerie how if you climb enough you start recognizing the same holds reused on different routes. New holds are our friends.
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