During this past month in Colorado, I've been forced to alter my criteria for a successful day of bouldering. In the Southeast, a successful day was one in which I sent many quality problems, finished a project, or came so heartbreakingly close to finishing a project that subsequent success was essentially guaranteed. I think that's a pretty safe, generic way to define success in bouldering. But I have manifestly failed on all of those counts since returning here. Therefore, I've been forced to redefine success so that it appears less fleeting.
- Success is getting really good roundtrip gas mileage to and from the crag by employing my mad geriatric driving skills.
- Success is knowing that Simone deconstructed an entire elk carcass during one of my flail sessions on Get Over It. (She then deconstructed laissez faire economics and string theory just because).
- Success is defecating once, twice, nay... thrice before giving my chosen boulder problem an earnest burn. Praise be unto coffee.
- Success is chewing up and swallowing my performance-enhancing chunk of ginger without succumbing to the full-body, spasmodic hiccups that it sometimes causes. It's the damnedest thing when that happens...
- Success is -- between attempts -- reading ten pages in Oprah's new self-help book-of-the-month pick, hugging myself for purposes of stretching and reassurance, and sobbing uncontrollably in order to purge excess water weight (spitting in a cup is so crass...)
So there you have it. Definitive proof that I am a successful rock climber and can continue to flaunt my self-aggrandizing demeanor, in spite of the dearth of problems on my 8a spraysheet. I hope all of you youngsters in my readership have learned that with a little self-delusion, a flair for sophistry, and some good old fashioned determination, you too can be successful one day. It's all a matter of definitions.
Next week's lesson: Successful Career Evasion and How to Drink Copious Quantities of Wine!