I came back from Swzzy with a mixture of disappointment and fullfillment. A strange way to feel, for sure. Then I found out, in retrospective, that probably I've had a rather successful trip.
After a day off, I went to my project and hiked it to the last move, twice. I climbed as I had never climbed before, I felt like a beast, calm, relaxed, precise.
So I'm thinking a lot, in these days, about time.
Years ago, the future was represented by the first half of the roof line. And that future one day became reality, a reality named "Il Primo dei Moicani". So the line of the horizon shifted further, and another future, this one barely visible, or maybe just imaginable, came along.
One other day in March, with grey clouds hovering, my girlfriend spotting, and the first warm breeze of spring getting closer, I made that future a reality. Again.
So, things settled down for a while, while I imagined other possible futures. Meanwhile, what had previously been a PB became routine: it was time to move on.
When I first started trying the project I was barely able to link two moves in a row. Then I got the first section and got to the crux completely wasted. Then I stuck the move once, then twice, still being unable to move from that.
Now I can get the move, I can cruise further, and I feel strong.
This is the present, not the future.
I don't remember exactly what I did this past summer, but whatever I did, it worked.
In this process of constantly turning future into present, dream into reality, I found myself with something really unexpected: I had never, never imagined that one day, close to my 40s, I would have found myself under my home board, with my friend Andrea, pulling holds as hard as we can, after all these years still psyched, no that's wrong: much more psyched than ever.
It's like turning young again.
After a day off, I went to my project and hiked it to the last move, twice. I climbed as I had never climbed before, I felt like a beast, calm, relaxed, precise.
So I'm thinking a lot, in these days, about time.
Years ago, the future was represented by the first half of the roof line. And that future one day became reality, a reality named "Il Primo dei Moicani". So the line of the horizon shifted further, and another future, this one barely visible, or maybe just imaginable, came along.
One other day in March, with grey clouds hovering, my girlfriend spotting, and the first warm breeze of spring getting closer, I made that future a reality. Again.
So, things settled down for a while, while I imagined other possible futures. Meanwhile, what had previously been a PB became routine: it was time to move on.
When I first started trying the project I was barely able to link two moves in a row. Then I got the first section and got to the crux completely wasted. Then I stuck the move once, then twice, still being unable to move from that.
Now I can get the move, I can cruise further, and I feel strong.
This is the present, not the future.
I don't remember exactly what I did this past summer, but whatever I did, it worked.
In this process of constantly turning future into present, dream into reality, I found myself with something really unexpected: I had never, never imagined that one day, close to my 40s, I would have found myself under my home board, with my friend Andrea, pulling holds as hard as we can, after all these years still psyched, no that's wrong: much more psyched than ever.
It's like turning young again.
1 comment:
Good to see you are still keen as ever Lore despite all the days of setbacks and bad weather! I cannot wait to see the video from the day you send this thing! :D
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