So, after having been deprived of rock-climbing for a solid month, I managed to find a friend to belay and got back to the gym last Wednesday as well as tonight. Last week, I tore the shite out of the skin on my left hand, since my protective callouses had disappeared. My hands were pretty much healed by Sunday, but still looking a bit raw. I didn’t tear them up tonight, but they’re mightily sore and dry… and I’ve actually been doing better at the gym than I expected to after that much time away from climbing.

My biggest problems (what with my gimpy left wrist) have been overhangs. These are precisely what they sound like - parts of the (typically) vertical wall that jut out somewhat horizontally (on an angle, in any event) and “hang over” your head. That might be a poor explanation - a Google image search should help.

So, in order to get past an overhang, at one point or another, I either a) have to hang from the more horizontal portion of the wall by my gimpy wrist and reach up over the overhang with the good wrist, or vice versa (both of which result in some discomfort or unpleasantness) or b) have to pull my entire body up and over through sheer inertia. There’s some major defying of gravity involved; that’s not as easy when you have a butt and hips and not a tremendous amount of upper body strength.

Anyway, I felt pretty good tonight since I got past an overhang that I wasn’t able to get over last week. I could even say I got over it multiple times since once I passed the crucial point of the climb, my hands were so tired they kept giving out with the next move and I kept dropping. And kept returning to that point and trying again. I’m tenacious.

I kept at it and finally just asked my belayer to give me a moment to rest, hung there, shook out my arms and shoulders and hands, exhaled deeply (for some reason, this really works and untenses tension that I sometimes didn’t even know existed until that moment) and just mustered up my last bit of energy to fire through the last two moves and finish the damn thing. And it worked. And I was done. And it was good.

As long as I get to keep going and trying and working at it, there will come a time when these baby steps will become one bigger step, and it won’t be long before it will come naturally. I mean, it was only 11 months ago that I started climbing, and while my progress hasn’t been as speedy as some people’s, it’s been good for someone who’s not innately athletic, who’s missing a bunch of bones and who was struggling to lift a half-pound weight with her left hand 18 months ago.

Just call me Pollyanna.

(Except that’s not exactly what I’m doing. “Pollyanna” has become symbolic of being optimistic, but that wasn’t really her deal - I remember from the book that her attitude was more, “Oh - the mission sent us crutches for Christmas instead of a doll or toy. I guess I should be happy anyway because I’m fortunate that I don’t need those crutches like some other poor child.” I would probably just get angry at the ineptitude of the service organization for leaving some poor crutch-dependent child without crutches because they couldn’t get their gift distribution list together. And I’d want to help them by creating a spreadsheet and a series of checks and balances. But that’s just me.)