Day 39 - Climbing

Sometimes life feels a lot like climbing. The anticipation of preparation, finding gear, packing and then finally getting to the climbing site. Then unpacking, repacking and walking in with heavy packs. Finding a safe place to stash those packs. The adrenalin of setting up, buckling in harnesses and putting on helmets. Chalking hands. Checking the route guide one last time, and then at last, stepping onto the rock.

After that, it's (for me) belay and follow my leader. Giving slack, taking slack, listening to calls. Breathing when a belay ledge is reached and a pitch is done. A sore neck from looking up and working out where cams need to be placed or a certain move is made. Knowing that when I get there, my move will probably be quite different because I am not that tall or can't quite smear that indent on the rock. Working cams out and unpicking nuts. Sometimes falling but being caught. Often a moment or two of terror followed by hard self talk. Grazing fingers and trying to make it through without the obligatory bruise on my knee or shin. The feeling of finding a grip that is good. Topping out to views and space and joy. Quiet moments before the walk down.

Then a snack, review of the climb, hike back to the car, meal and a good long shower to fall into bed stretched and exhausted yet still feeling the lingering exhilaration of pushing your body beyond its comfort and truly being alive while the eagle flies past or the starlings complain.

Being a mom is a lot like being a belay bunny. You have to remember to follow the Leader, and know that He places gear protection in places that you can rely on, places that you can remove the nuts and cams when you move through without hammering on the rock. Learning to move lightly. That your reach is more than you thought and your body and mind can do more than you dreamed. Self talk - I can do this. Today.

Savouring the views that can be brief. Finding a feather or cast off skin on the ledge, knowing a raptor roosted here or a snake slid past and you see just the hint of what happened.

Not easy. But worth while. A rush and a push.

Faith, hope and love. Faith is the mountain. It's there, solid, unmoving. It's real. Hope is for tomorrow or what might be. Love is today, this moment, this pitch, this move I am on.

It's folding socks and shirts late at night when I am waiting for the monthly shoe to drop and the pile is between me and the bed and I want the day to end. It's wiping a counter and the floor. Meals. Toilet brushes. It's my present, not my past or future. Eskimo kisses and notes on a laptop which make me look up how to deal with sibling rivalry.

Climbing.