The Process: A Journey of Sending

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Laying in shavasana, corpse pose, you’re supposed to be absolutely still with awareness for your body. I’m supposed to be emptying my mind and relaxing, but not falling asleep. It’s meditative, and especially for me, releases much of the anxiety and negative energy that I hold on to daily.


They say it takes more energy to hold on to something than releasing it. I asked myself at the beginning of my yoga practice, “What are you holding on to today, in your life?” I was thinking about work, about the gym, about my climbing project, and the many things forever captured in my ‘Inbox’. My chest tightens with overwhelming knowledge that there are only 24 hours in a day. I said, “Release it,” and just like that my mind let it go.

I actually listened to my wise subconscious. I focused on my breathing, constricting the back of my throat, pushing the air in and out with a noisy wind. I believed it was rejuvenating, and I trusted that each breath served me well. Balance came easier, minute progress was made in several poses, and I forgot about the other people in the room that my imagination let judge me. I thoroughly enjoyed my entire practice because I released the thoughts that bound me to stress and anxiety.

So what does this have to do with climbing? “What’s all this yogi talk, I thought you were a climber?” Yeah ok, it sounds like spiritual enlightenment, granola girl talk to me too. But wait… there’s more!

What else was I holding onto? A ton of negative energy preventing me from sending. It’s like climbing with weighted ankle wraps and a vest, on a tight belay, riddled with shortened rope slack at each clip. My doubt made the rope feel like a steel cable every time I pulled it up to meet a quick draw. A tremendous amount of energy was lost holding onto the wall with every muscle tensely filled with the fear of falling. The fear of falling was actually making me fall! Ruled by these emotions I would never be able to comfortably project and send at my limits.

Joyride Bone Bluff

This was a true ‘journey not the destination’ quest. Don’t get me wrong here. It is pretty rad that I redpointed a 5.13a. I mean, it takes physical strength, desire, and ambition to climb at this level. As you progress past climbing 12’s and dare to dream of 13’s there is the realization that a funnel exist, slowly narrowing the field of athletes who play at these numbers and higher. “How hard can I climb in my lifetime?” Most of my work was mental. It was a long laundry list of self imposed woes to over come.

valarie on honeycomb arete

“Geeeez, this is hard,” and “uhhh oooh, I’m getting scared,” and a ton of “you can’t” were the words to the sound track of my epic saga. I literally said these damaging words to myself. I’d cry, self loath, pity, and get so angry at times. The frustration siphoned all my ambition.

I remember clearly the two times I went out to attempt my send before the redpoint. I jumped on my project without adequately stretching and gave myself the flash pump to end all forearm strength. I came across one of the last two difficult sequences, and I remember feeling the defeat sink into me. I just sat down on the rope, called take, and fell about 3 feet. I let two botched sequences below fester in my mind, instead of leaving them behind as testaments to how you can over come when you want something so terribly bad it aches! Instead I turned those victories into doubt. “I obviously can’t finish this because I’m so pumped from my mistakes below.” When I got on the sharp end one more time that day I knew from the first clip that my heart wasn’t in it. I had already given up, and I had stopped wanting it.

That was a very daunting feeling. I had to ask myself “how bad do you actually want this goal to be achieved because you are going to have to want it really bad to send this piece!” The next attempt I had convinced myself that I did in fact want it badly. I was beginning to let the lessons of projecting sink in. I was accepting the advice from my husband and others who had been there before. I was also giving in to what the rock was trying to teach me, patience. Patience for myself and the process I was going through. Patience for the learning curve and patience for the time it was going to take. Climbers sometimes spend years working a project, and here I was complaining about a handful of goes.

1Frustration Creek Fuel Injected 13a

This last attempt before the send was the turning point. I had visualized my success over and over again in my mind. I told myself “you are a confidant and strong climber.” I warmed up better, stretched longer, and breathed into each resting spot on the route for the perfect amount of recovery time. What went wrong then? Right after the last clip, I slightly rushed myself. I said to myself “you can do this, now go,” but I wasn’t ready. I messed the beta up, lost my concentration, stopped believing for a split second, and let the send slip past me. However, my defeat felt different this time. I was wiser. I knew this would take time, and I fortunately had the luxury of returning again, and again until I sent the route. I had to be absolutely ready. I had to be still inside to let my best pour out.

Here comes the yogi hippy talk again. Back to the beginning, I’m laying in shavasana and now all I can think about is my project. So I let it come to me, except I’m not really climbing in my minds eyes. I’m actually resting. I can see myself on the slab, laying calmly against the cool rock, breathing into it, graciously asking, “may I send you please?” Then I’m in the nook, just under the full vertical length of the rest of the route, breathing deeply and fully filling my longest each distant corner. Next my hands are inside the black, crusty and slopey hole, switching from left to right, dangling the other at my body’s side. Last I am starfished out on the face, my left hand high on a long incut strip of prime real estate for this grade. I’m moving down to the right hand just below, a similar sized incut but with a stronger tilt making it a slight gaston. Up and down, left to right, resting to other hand and arm until I am recharged to the fullest possible at this point. I don’t actually finish the route, I simply breathe into the rests then slowly open my eyes as shavasana ends and I must namaste my way to the exit.

Fuel Injected behind me

I woke up the next day, coincidently my birthday, and I declared, “It’s going to happen today” with the upmost confidence and calm. I was actually antsy, and full of positive energy. We drove out, I warmed up, and waited about 10 minutes. I turned to my husband and said, “I’m ready.” And just like that I sent Fueled Injected, 5.13a.

At each key point on the route I breathed into the rock and it breathed energy right back into me. There was such a calm as I leaned into the face, pulled air through my nose, constricted the back of my throat, and pushed air back out. There were few words in my mind, no “slow down” or “take your time” or even “you can do this”. I emphatically knew I could, and knew I would. I let go of the pressure to send, and it allowed me to actually send. I even recognized that if in fact it did not happen that day (but it totally was going to), it would happen another inevitably. There was no fear, and not because I had this route completely dialed. There was no fear because there was nothing I needed to be scared of anymore.

I was very present in each motion that I needed to execute, not concerning myself with any other. At my last resting point, the place I fell the last time, I stretched each arm out below me, pulling in air and releasing the oxygen into my forearm muscles. I envisioned the restoration, and when I missed a bump hold just above this rest (and just below the anchors) I said reassuringly to myself, “It’s ok, you don’t need it because you have the energy to finish this move.” I pressed through, looked up, and to the right there the anchors were, waiting for me in perfect stillness. I took a few breaths here before reaching for the finishing holds, and released the anchor’s patience for me to finish. It was a glorious view on a clear day, and I gave a few hoots and hollers into the warm air.

Rap Down

Where do I go from here? Only up my friends, only up! I realistically know that the next 5.13 I project will be a completely different battle. There are many more lessons projecting will be giving me, I’m just a lot more open minded about accepting them now.

~Stay Adventurous,
Valarie Tes

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