The Jeff and I went climbing at Whitestone yesterday early-morning, thus further proving my cowardice and complete incompetence. I tried two different attacks on a 5.6 on the slab portion of the cliff and failed to get past the first move (and slipped off a damp mossy bit and hurt my ankle :-( ), and then managed about twenty feet of a super easy route, maybe a 5.5 if it's the one I think it is (but I had to cheat and go around the corner for some holds, so I think what I did was more like a 5.3/5.4) but I couldn't get over the overlap. I might have been able to do it if the rock were dryer (Storms on Friday, so all the cracks in the rock were running), and if it weren't already getting up into the 90s. I hate heat, I really do.) and if I weren't scared to death up there. I didn't even bother to try the 5.7 we also had rigged. I decided I didn't need any more humiliation, and it was 97 or so at 11:30, which is well into what I consider fuck that noise territory.
Yeah, I suck. It's awfully frustrating still being this bad at it. (The hike up involves some pretty scary scrambling, too, which is not a lot of fun when you have thirty pounds of climbing gear on your back.)
Outdoor climbing kills the arches of my feet. My taping mojo seems to be holding up, though, because my toe doesn't hurt today.
I fell into bed a little after ten last night and slept like a sleeping thing until almost eight this morning. And today I am so freaking exhausted I'll be lucky if I get a little yoga in. (Need to remember to practice guitar, even if my hands hurt.)
Hope I've recovered enough for a run tomorrow, and to not suck completely at the gym tomorrow night....
Today's work is to finish up my intro essay for A is for Alien. Just as soon as I find my ambition.
Possibly, is it under this cat?