Date: February 19th, 2008
After a long absence due to various injuries, I finally got out climbing on Sunday. We wanted to keep it simple, so we hiked from my house up Cougar Creek to the mixed area there. That’s one of the things I feel I’ve done right in life (lots wrong too)–to live someplace where I can walk to winter and summer climbing. It’s not “stellar,” but it is climbing, and there’s something satisfying about putting my boots on in my house and then walking to climbing. No big deal maybe, but I feel pretty lucky about that.
Anyhow, it was just nice to be out crunching through the snow with an armed pack on my back. SS and I have climbed together for years, and generally have if not fun at least some sort of rewarding experience when we go out. Actually, I can’t think of one outing that wasn’t fun. At the crag it was surprisingly cold–we were all excited about the supposed above-freezing temps, but it was windy and definitely tip-of-nose cold at the crag. The last time I’d climbed at this crag I’d been in really good shape; now I’m in decent all-around shape but not very good climbing shape. Scot led; I wanted to see how my collarbone and other injuries would do under load on a top-rope. He had a bit of a battle due to the cold. I definitely think we adapt to the cold; we were both laughing about how cold it felt and how “numb” we were. By the 10th trip or so of the winter I can deal with cold temps easily, but those first couple of trips are rough, and this was my first time out in the cold since Ouray, which wasn’t cold…
I followed the pitch and was so awkward at first, moving like a dog on a skating rink. Then it started to flow a bit as I relaxed. I have a hard time rolling my shoulder from extended to locked off, but other than that it wasn’t too bad. I got pumped stupid on a route I’d hiked on the on-sight last time, but the layers of cotton wool in my mind were almost gone by the top of the pitch, and I started to forget the nerves and just move (except when my shoulder creaked, that little bone is still moving around a bit). I was still cold and awkward, but there was a glimmer of climbing and not just scrabbling.
The sun finally came out, and suddenly we were moving more fluidly, warm, comfortable and just enjoying the day. That’s what’s so cool about climbing–it can go from absolutely brutal to sheer fun in moments, as well as the other way. We didn’t climb all that much, but it sure was fun to be outside swinging and hooking tools, feeling the mountains, and doing what I really love to do. Yeah! May everyone get outside!
Performance:
I’ve been thinking a lot about what performance means, and come to the conclusion that a “good performance” in most outdoor sports means two things: First, a feeling you are doing the sport well for you. To put it another way, the act of doing the sport feels relatively inhibition free. You just do it. When you start and finish a section or an entire route and then suddenly remember that there’s something else in life than what you’re doing at the moment. This is internal. Second, there’s the external measuring stick of time, grades, distance, what I call the “numeric” side of performance. When these two things are both “successful” then you’re operating at a high performance level for you. If you do your local run in the evening and it feels really smooth and like you haven’t had to try that hard but your time is two minutes faster then you’ve nailed it. If you go for a run and fight for every hill and your time is two minutes slower then you’ve had a low-performance day.
The final part of performance for me is then measuring my “numeric” performance with others. This is where it gets weird. If you’re climbing 5.10 and then hike a 5.11 that’s been giving you grief then you’re a rock star in your own athletic world, and you’ve had a great performance. Drink a beer! But compared to Sonnie Trotter, well, you suck. Or do you? I suspect that if Sonnie were to have a battle on a 13a he would feel like he hadn’t performed that well (or he’d laugh about it then send a 14a, he’s Sonnie). Or maybe if a climber of Sonnie’s caliber battled on an “easy” 14a redpoint he would be performing at a level that was incredibly high for most of the world, but might not be satisfying from a sheer performance perspective for him. But if he sends the hardest crack in the world his feelings about his performance might not be all that different from buddy who sent the 11a… There have been a few times where I’ve done something at the edge of the numeric envelope at the time. I had to try really hard, but when I did it I felt like it wasn’t so hard. I had a good performance.
I think that we all mostly know when we’ve had a great performance, and when we haven’t. I saw a great performance in Ouray when Will Mayo dropped one tool in the comp and then kept climbing for move after move. The crowd knew that it was a great performance. Same with Rich Marshall (I think Rich performed about the best of anyone in the comp–he doesn’t have the power of the Euros, but he was performing very well). We’ve all been in the gym when some young kid or old punter does something that’s clearly very cool–you can feel the psyche of a great performance, even if it’s a V4 used as an easy warm up by the bad-asses.
It’s something to think about–I often hear climbers (including me) bitch themselves out when they can’t do a “lowly plastic V4! Damn, I suck!” No, they don’t have the skills, or they aren’t performing well at all. The more useful mental trick is to think, “Yep, my performance sucked. Why?” I’ve also seen climbers have magnificent performances and then deride the fact it took them so long or whatever. This strikes me as self-defeating and just wrong. They are letting an exterior numeric system define their performance, instead of looking at their own performance honestly. I think that, for me, the goal is to perform the best I can at whatever I’m doing. On good days when I’m well-trained that may be pretty high against the sport’s numeric standards. But I actually performed pretty well in Cougar Creek by redpointing an m8 I’d onsighted easily… I’m not arguing for accepting lower standards, but for a realism in accepting and analyzing personal performance. If you’re a world-class athlete like Sonnie, then focusing on your best personal performance may mean a new numeric standard. If you’re a 5.9 climber who sends a multi-pitch 5.10 with no falls then that’s every bit as cool as Sonnie’s efforts, right on. If you’re a 5.9 climber who falls off a 5.8 ’cause you forgot to look at your feet then your performance sucked… Bottom line, if you want to get better or something then you’ve got to set higher performance standards and go after them. But I feel like I need to focus on the quality of my performance first, and the improvements will come as I get better at performing… There’s the psychological idea of “dissonance,” where your view of how the world should be doesn’t meet what you’re actually experiencing. If you really analyze and honestly figure out where your own performance is and was then there’s less dissonance, and perhaps more chance to actually perform well in the long run. No one has a “right” to perform at a certain level, we get to a high level by developing our performances incrementally and with honest introspection. Starting to write like a new-age wanker so enough of that, we all need to shut up and perform. And recognize when we do, and do more of whatever led to that performance state…
WG
PS–and sorry to use Sonnie as an example, for some reason he just came into my mind as I writing this. I like his attitude, he is almost always psyched on climbing, both his and others. Hope you’re performing well and having fun Sonnie!
Posted in: Blog
Date: February 13th, 2008
I thought this article on CNN was pretty funny, as I had a “weather” delay for a Jan 17th flight out of Montrose, Colorado. I received a phone call at 8:00 the night before telling me my scheduled early morning flight was canceled due to “weather.” The sky was clear, lots of stars, not too cold. While the United agent was on the phone looking for alternates for me I pulled the weather for Montrose: Mostly clear overnight, sunny in the morning. OK, maybe high winds aloft? Nope, all good there. Ah, freezing rain? No. I told the agent that and she insisted it was a weather delay. OK, maybe United has some sort of super-secret weather forecasting info. While the nice agent tried to rebook me and my family I kept surfing the web–there was absolutely no weather event within 1,000 miles that would preclude even a paraglider flight–no fog, no snow, no freezing rain, no thunderstorms, nada. I believe that the small planes that fly Montrose-Denver and back do just that and perhaps other short local trips; weather elsewhere in the flight system (like Chicago) doesn’t seem likely to have been the problem. I was due to meet five other people and drive three hours in a van after my flight, so I wasn’t happy when the agent told me I was now going to arrive six hours later–arriving in Mexico city past midnight for a scheduled van that left six hours earlier isn’t a great plan with a family. I kept working with the friendly agent, who finally allowed that United could book me on other carriers “if available.” I read her the weather forecasts with some laughter and we talked about flying, her husband was a pilot and she got where I was coming from. Eventually we were booked on another airline.
I woke up at 6:00 a.m to crystal clear starry skies. At the airport I asked a few people what was going on, and a maintenance sorta guy said, “Oh, the runway lights are having problems, but we can’t say that ’cause then the airport has to pay for diverted flights and the airlines have to deal with their passengers.” Hmmm…. I asked a baggage guy what was up and got the same answer. At the United counter (still had to deal with the tickets for 45 minutes) I got, “Weather” until I repeated the stories I had just heard. She then said, “Yeah, it’s the runway lights, but we can’t say that or we have to pay for hotels and stuff. We hope the part shows up soon.” So the real deal was that the lights at the airport weren’t working, which meant they couldn’t fly the plane in late at night or early in the morning.
And the airlines wonder why people hate ’em? When you get flat-out lied to repeatedly it sorta makes you less than trusting, know what I mean? If United had said, “The runway lights are broken and we can’t fly your plane here in the dark, so we’ve got to schedule you on a different flight” I would have been a little annoyed, but OK, United doesn’t fix the runway lights, fair enough. But to get a lame excuse about weather just makes United look like not only liars but idiots–it’s pretty bold to invoke bad weather when the sky is clear, a sort of Jedi mind trick, “No, really the weather is bad, that is not the sun…” Right.
Posted in: Blog
Date: February 12th, 2008
Everybody makes New Year’s resolutions. Given the number of minor but still debilitating injuries I’ve gone through in the last year my most “major” resolution was to try and do some form of stretching at least 150 days this year. That works out to about every other day, so it seemed like an achievable goal. I did Yoga about 50 percent of the days in November and December (modified due to a torn oblique), it was feeling good, but I wanted to feel “looser” and perhaps also prevent some of the soft (and not so soft) tissue injuries I’ve been having. I blame these injuries directly on getting older–I’m as motivated and fired up as ever, but my body just doesn’t do as well with rapid sport switches and sudden random movements as it used to. I’d really noticed that my comfortable range of motion was decreasing; it stands to reason that a better range of motion in my muscles, and putting my body into weird positions more regularly, might result in fewer injuries or at least a more comfortable feeling.
I’m wired as tightly as an ostrich; I’ve always done some form of irregular and often injury-causing stretching over the years, but the reality is that my range of motion was still decreasing. Yoga helps fight my natural stiffness when I do it regularly, but Yoga can also be really damaging. Yoga instructors usually have no clue how to deal with competitive athletes or the male ego in their students. When I walk into a class and flop the mat down I’m just NOT there to get in touch with my inner chillness, I’m in there to bust a cap on my stiff ass, know what I mean? The problem with this attitude is that it results in “competitive yoga,” which results in injuries. Touch my toes? Yeah, so I can’t do that normally but the flabby-assed punter on the next mat is touching his head to his knee so I’ll just try harder… Oops, that was the sound of hamstring ripping… Eventually I figured out that Yoga wasn’t competitive, but I watch guys in classes do exactly what I’ve just described a lot. Yoga instructors should start their classes by saying, “If you’re an athlete the next hour needs a mental adjustment. It’s not like the weight room, where the goal is to lift the heaviest weight you can and try as hard as you can. If you use that approach today you WILL be injured, perhaps seriously. There are people in this room who can do what you will likely never be able to do unless you also practice Yoga regularly for years. So just work gently with your range of motion or you will be injured. A stretch should feel good, like yawning, not like a jack is forcing your body into a new position. Forcing your body in Yoga will only result in injuries, which will make you stiffer, not more flexible. Regular gentle practice will help you gain flexibility and strength through a range of motion, which may make you a better athlete. Going hard at Yoga once a week will only result in INJURY. So mellow out, do NOT push into pain, just practice regularly with a relaxed and smooth attitude and you might not get hurt. Guys, this means YOU. Clear?” Most Yoga instructors seem to think their students don’t try hard enough, and will urge “Push into the position, relax into it, push a little farther” and similar rhetoric that any decent athlete will respond to with effort to the point of injury… It only took me three years and a lot of injuries to figure the above out, maybe you learned the lesson faster. I’ve done fits and bursts of Yoga for the last three years, it’s still helped once I mellowed out a bit, but I don’t think I’m seeing good gains because I wasn’t regular about it. So 150 days of Yoga this year or bust!
It’s day 42 of the year and I’ve hit the mat 22 days despite four weeks of travel of chaotic travel (travel is always chaotic, but add in an eight-month old, some competitions and some foreign countries and it’s total chaos). I’ve done yoga in the business lounge of several airports, in the hallways of hotels early in the morning, and on a nasty tile floor in Mexico. I have a basic routine that takes 25 minutes at a bare minimum, and 45 if I work with it a bit. The first five minutes involve no “stretching,” just moving through my range of motion and generating heat. That’s another beef I have with most Yoga classes–you walk in from a -10 day and immediately start stretching while totally cold. Super-bendy young female yoga instructors just don’t realize that for a lot of male athletes sitting cross-legged on the floor for five minutes IS a serious stretch, or that “gently bending forward and placing your hands toward the floor while contracting your inner Bunny” is a MAJOR stretch. I don’t need to contemplate my navel in a painful position for five minutes at the beginning of a Yoga class, I need to get the blood moving… Yoga classes where I live are scheduled for people with regular schedules, which I don’t have, so it’s important that I do it on my own most of the time. I don’t have to think much with my routine, just relax, feel the poses and the motions and do it. The results are slow but definitely there even after only a few months–I can touch my toes easily when I’m warmed up, and my messed up left hip has opened about an inch. I feel looser while climbing, and even just walking down the street. If you’re under 30 and female that’s probably less than impressive, but for a 40-year old high-mileage male athlete I’m digging it. I find my yoga days are also a little better mentally too, which is a bonus…
A half hour every other day of Yoga is achievable, we’ll see what the results are at the end of the year. Because for me results count more than anything, the rest is just justification and excuses for non-performance. To quote Fugazi, “Function is the key.” I want to function better.
Posted in: Blog
Date: February 7th, 2008
To those of you who have been giving me alternate loads of grief and writing inspiration, thanks. It’s been a mad four weeks:
Ouray Ice Festival:
As always, incredibly fun, the social event of the year. Didn’t compete due to a ripped stomach muscle, which was hard not to do, sure looked fun. Congrats to Jeff and Ines and everyone who pulled to the limit!
Monarca and Pre-Worlds Paragliding comps in Mex:
Tons of fun, 40+ hours of flying. I somehow managed to break the tip off my clavicle before the comps even started, but flew anyhow, a little pain focuses the mind. Or not. Thanks to the Arctic house for the good times. For anyone who hasn’t flown in Valle De Bravo, go. It’s stellar. Hopefully the local politics will be resolved soon, and be sure to join the local club if you visit.
I did learn a few more things about my own head in the two comps, mainly that I’m not interested in competing in paragliding comps with a 150 other pilots. I don’t like flying so close to other people for hours, so I often just headed off on my own. I do not make a good herd animal, and PG comps require herd flying to win. I’ve won some comps, but those are generally comps where I just do what I feel like doing and the choices end up being correct enough to win. At a big comp with many high-level pilots and difficult conditions you need the herd. On the last day of the comp about 100 of us were climbing in a total cluster just after the start when I looked downwind on the course line and thought I could make the transition to the next bump. I KNEW that going was a bad idea from a comp perspective, but there was nobody on the bump… I did eventually get up there, but I should have waited and climbed with the herd to make it happen–if I were flying alone that’s what I would have done (get higher), but I wanted out of the gaggle… When you’re making bad decisions in a comp just to move away from the gaggle then you’re not competing to win or do your very best. If you’re not competing to win (or eventually win) then competition is meaningless, and in my opinion you’re just taking up space. One day we had cloudbase at around 18,000 feet over a local volcano; I kept looking at that as I was flying back and forth along the course and thinking, “Why am I not there?” Flying up there might have been risky, but flying directly over a huge volcano would have been cool… I also find myself making poor decisions from a safety perspective during high-end comps; I went for one of the worst rotor rides of my life going to goal one day, just so I could beat a few pilots in. After the ride I still had the altitude to make goal, but that would have meant flying downwind at 80+K less than 100M over the ground. I landed rather than chance that. You have to have that, “WIN!” desire to pull moves like that (or be totally unaware), I don’t think winning another comp is worth that sort of risk. I’ll take big risks for what I believe is a big reward, but I’m not seeing winning comps as being worth the risks I (and that’s just me, not everyone has the same attitude obviously) sometimes will take. A man’s gotta know his limitations as someone once said.
Competition is the acid test for pilot skills and I like that and fully respect it, but part of that skill set is flying in big gaggles for hours. I’ve come to the realization that while I can do that, it’s not why I fly a paraglider. I only get so much time every year to fly, and for me pushing the limits of the sport in more remote places is now a higher priority. Yeah! Sometimes in sports I realize what’s actually important to me about the sport, and adjust how I approach it as a result. It always feels good, even if it’s not an easy thing to admit at the time.
Good Gear:
Yesterday I took the kidlet and went on a savage aerobic burn session at the local Nordic centre. She loves riding in the backpack, and an extra 25 plus pounds on my back just adds to the load. At one point I looked down and noticed that my old “classic” skis were the same onces I used to race on in high school, so that makes them 20+ years old. They are Fischer SCS skis, red and white, with almost as ancient “race” bindings on them. That started me thinking between hills (can’t think up the hills) about good gear I have that’s really old and that I still use. There isn’t much of it, but what I do have is kinda cool to me:
The Fischer SCS skis. I’ve used them for big backcountry tours in -25, raced on them, trained on them, and still going.
My Jrat neck gaiter. At least 20 years old, still works. It’s flown over the Grand Canyon, climbed hundreds if not thousands of ice routes, and just done me right. Ugly enough that nobody wants to steal it. Jrat was an era.
A #9 Hex. Also 20+ years old, beat to shit, still hanging on the wall and occasionally gets an outing.
A cave bag: It was old when I bought it, and is 20 years older now. Some piece of junk US Army surplus, but still works, and gets out once a year or so.
I can’t think of much else that I have that’s 20 or more years old and still in semi-regular use (OK, my body, but that doesn’t really count as I can’t buy a new one); I’ve saved a few bits just to save them, but this is just the gear I truly still use. I keep thinking I’ll get a new pair of nordic “classic” skis, but those skis still work just fine. I have the sweetest new backcountry setup going, but part of the cool thing here is that old nordic gear is still functional. And that’s cool.
What else do other people have that’s 20 years old or older and still going out into the hills regularly?
Posted in: Blog
