I’ve been rock-climbing (indoors, at a rock gym) every week since mid-September. That’s going on five months now, and it’s been a huge part of my physical fitness “makeover.” In terms of keeping me interested and challenged, it’s great, and it is hard work. However, I’ve progressed moderately well for someone who goes only once a week, is missing three bones in her left wrist and wasn’t ever Miss Athletic to begin with.

So today was a pretty OK climbing day. I didn’t conquer anything super difficult, but I tried some climbs that were a bit more technical and different from what I’ve done thus far (thusly was I informed by my friend who invited me to join this crazy world’o’climbing). I kept trying, rather doggedly, thinking that there had to be something I was overlooking or missing that was making them more difficult.

Nope. They were just difficult for me. My hands got tired. And that’s OK. End result?
I have some markings. Something to show for my efforts. Perhaps even a sort of tribal initiation sign.

I’ve got me some raw hands.

marksofpride.jpg

 

 

It’s hard to take a steady photo of your right hand when you’re right-handed. The left hand is not as adept at keeping a camera still. However, you can still see the shiny new blister on my pinky finger, the pink spots on my palms and fingers where callouses have been building for several moons (and soreness persists), and the bit of abraded skin on my index finger. There’s lots more excitement under that Band-Aid and on my other hand, but why give it all away?

Just don’t let anyone say I don’t give a 110% when I set out to conquer something!

Even if I don’t quite get there by the end of one attempt, there’s always next time.

 

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