I run, I climb, I forge forward through life. You’d think we’d learn a lot by living, given that we do it for a long time (and frequently), but my thoughts seem to coalesce more clearly while I’m running or climbing. Living? Well. I haven’t got that down yet.

I’m doing a lot of running lately and have had time to coalesce a few things. The other day, after a warm but wonderful day of climbing, I realized the similarities between what I was learning about long distance running and what I’ve learned, though not as quickly or as clearly, about climbing. And what I should learn, though haven’t, about life.

It will do itself.
I’m training for a trail race, so I’m running hills. Running hills is miserable, especially when you’re at the bottom of them. My negative self-talk says, “I can’t do this.” It says that all the way up the damn hill. But I’ve come to realize that I don’t need to “do this.” All I have to do is keep putting one foot in front of the other and eventually the hill will do itself. The hill doesn’t care whether I’m running it or not. No amount of measuring or calculating or wishful negotiating will ever change the length or pitch of the hill. But if I keep putting one foot in front of the other, regardless of speed or motivation, I’ll eventually arrive at the top. Pure physics.

On Sunday, as Brien and I walked past Bonnie’s Roof on our way to the Seasons, we found it unexpectedly open. I’ve had bad days on Bonnie’s but it’s mostly OK, and a classic Brien hadn’t been on and on the short list of climbs you’re not allowed to walk past if they’re open, so I stepped up despite the glistening near the crux that signaled wet rock. I’ve been on Bonnie’s when that bit below the crux was wet before, but it turned out the dampness extended beyond where I expected and I was nervous and unhappy under the roof. Feeling pumped from the bad stance and wigged out by damp hands and damp holds, I thought “I can’t do this.” And then I remembered–I don’t have to “do this.” I only need to make the next move. And if I keep on making the next move, eventually I’ll be at the anchor. And I was.

Let it be easy
A couple weeks ago I was heading into the last half mile of a very long run, exhausted and in pain, when I realized how tight my muscles were. I was running a flat bit at that point (possibly even downhill) and yet my legs were in constant, unnecessary, isometric contraction. I relaxed as best as I could and wondered how long I’d been putting extra strain on my legs by being tense about the challenges to come. There’s not enough energy for useless motion during an ultra-race. Steve has even taught me to stop my arms from crossing my mid-section, a wavering motion that contributes nothing.

I guess I know the West Hartford reservoir pretty well now. That means I always know what hill is next, and I’ve been anticipating them. I’ve been making the easy parts harder by adding the stress of the next hard section to come. Appreciating the easiness of the ground under my feet is vital to conserving my energy and motivation for the next time it’s not easy. I guess I know the Gunks that well too.

You can credit Rock Warrior’s Way for this one–it’s certainly in there–because “Let it be easy” equally applies to climbing. Cruxes are hard, but how far before the crux do you start tensing? And how long after the crux do you maintain that extra tension? What if the easy bits encroached into the hard bits instead of the other way around?

Double Crack is a long, sustained climb. And yet everything after the first thirty feet is considerably easier than those first thirty feet. High off the ground, nearing the top, as I sweated beyond what chalk could contain and wished the gear would place itself, I reminded myself that this was easy. And fun. This is the fun and easy bit. This top half of Double Crack is what makes it worth it to develop the skills needed to lead the bottom half of Double Crack. Relax and enjoy. As tired as you may be, you’re not running uphill.

It’s (not) all willpower
I read a study online that basically said willpower is a muscle. Exercise it, it gets stronger. And it’s surprising what simple things require willpower. An example given was using the wrong hand to perform a simple task. That was of interest to me (and one of the rare times that simple “life” taught me anything). I have a minor wrist injury in my left hand from massaging. Fortunately, climbing doesn’t bother it and it doesn’t bother me while climbing. But it hurts when I scrub things–counters, dishes, etc. I’ve tried to use the other hand, but it’s hard. I’m left handed so I’m more ambidextrous than most people, and operating a sponge doesn’t require a lot of dexterity. Nevertheless, it’s hard. Try to scrub with the other hand and see how long you can stand it.

Now imagine thinking, “I want to stop. I want to stop. I want to stop,” for four hours, eight hours, eighteen hours. Most people can’t imagine running for those lengths of times, but if they do imagine it, they imagine that we don’t mind it (we, those ultra-running elite who were apparently bred from different stock). There are days when I’m not minding the first ten miles (two hours). I expect more seasoned ultra-runners can say better than that. But it’s not a long run if “I want to stop” hasn’t kicked in at least two hours before you quit, and there are days when “I want to stop” starts with nearly the first step.

But it doesn’t have to, not every day. Because you can hurt, you can know that stopping would feel better, and not dwell on it. You can enjoy the moment for what it has to offer and remember that stopping doesn’t cure all. Most importantly, you can learn that stopping can hurt worse than going, if you wish you hadn’t later. And going can feel better than stopping, when you’re so proud of yourself for it. It’s a true kind of pride, not vain, not at anyone else’s expense. Just peaceful and for you. You started something, you finished it. Ta da.

I have a feeling there’s a lot in here to learn about life in general, but for now I’m boiling it down to my mantra: “I’m lucky, I’m loved, and my life will go on.”

———————
Bonnie’s Roof, 5.8 (P1: Dawn, P2: Brien)
Ant’s Line, 5.9 (Dawn)
Sleepwalk, 5.7 (Brien)
Double Crack, 5.8 (Dawn)