TOTOLORE

SAY WHAT YOU MEAN...

2012-01-30T18:04:00.003+01:00

... but more importantly mean what you say.

I discovered it today: it's far easier to say things than to really mean things. It's easy to say "keep the fucking faith", it's cool, makes you feel hard core, it earns you other climbers' respect, and if you play it well it could even get you a one night stand at some climbing destination.
What is hard, I found out, is to follow that mantra deeply, to really keep that fucking faith.
Last post was about hitting the bottom; this one is about being on top again. Maybe not an all time top, but oh so close.
Turns out I really kept the fucking faith.
Last Thursday was hard. I did not want to think it was over, my form. It's natural to have highs and lows - only mediocre athletes are always at top form, once Gullich said - but I wasn't prepared for such a deep low.
What did I do? I got depressed, you can be sure about it. And then? Then I went to the gym on Friday to have a light session, then out for a kilo of pizza. Saturday morning I woke up and thought that I did not want to let it go. So I starved myself the whole day and trained in the afternoon on my board: it wasn't the most powerful of sessions, but it broke the spell; I kept throwing myself at the problems no matter what, until my fingers gave up. Then I climbed with 5 kilos on and I finally skipped dinner. There you go, pizza.
Next morning I was feeling a bit better and I went to the gym again for a very easy session, only two problems climbed and a few holds mounted. Lots of chatting, they all make me feel happy.
Today I went back to the roof.
I wasn't sure this morning about what to do, if it was a bad idea or not, to go back there so early after my epic defeat: only four days ago. But I went and I was rewarded.
Despite being a bit tired, I had the power. I had the mental and the physical power, and there, under that roof, with my weightbelt on, I found my faith, really.
I found out that I really had kept it. I had kept it there. When I went there it was there, where I'd left it.
Today really marked another step forward.
I had lost badly. I had gained something back and I gambled it all again. What I won with this bet is the faith. It's like when I watch those boxers that keep getting knocked down and keep getting up again. Do they know that they're going down again in a matter of seconds? I don't care. They don't care. They have the faith. They keep the faith. Why do they keep getting up? It's very simple: because they can.
Of course it doesn't escape me that I'm writing now after a very powerful day, with my naive mind full of happiness and testosterone.
Where was my faith Thursday? Have I ever lost it, even if for just a split second? Perhaps, but probably not. Only, I hadn't fully realized what a simple sentence really implies. If you say "keep the fucking faith", it means that you have to fucking keep the fucking faith, when things go well, and, especially, when they go bad, because only in this second case you are really challenged.
This is a lesson I learned today: we can say things and we can mean things. The first behaviour earns us other people's respect; the second one earns us our own respect.

I GOT HERE, I START AGAIN FROM HERE

2012-01-26T21:21:00.003+01:00

I think that after today I really need to end a very long period of intense training and climbing: I went to the roof, and I couldn't even do the warm ups. Not the roof warm ups, the real warm ups, the 5+, the 6a.
I barely put my shoes on.
My mind was elsewhere, and my body wanted to be elsewhere, so I cut my losses, packed everything and went for a walk in the new-old sectors. Many years ago we found a new sector, full of boulders, but for a number of reasons we never developed it, except for a few small areas; recently Michele Caminati, during his stay, went there and checked things out with the eye of a professional, and was immediately hooked. Yes, the place is amazing and the boulders are hundreds.
I will try to fight my selfish attitude and spend some time cleaning new problems despite the little spare time I have to dedicate to climbing on rock.
So, the 17th of September I did my first session on my board, and from then on I trained very intensely and climbed with equal attitude.
Now I have really reached my present physical limit and I need some rest.
I spent the last weekend training both days, then last Tuesday I put in a very powerful session of max one arm dead hangs that really surprised me, then I set, worked and climbed three new problems, all quite close to my limit, and finally the usual 4 problems with 5 kilos on.
I think it's quite normal that today I was so spent.
I want to check my training of the last 6/8 weeks to assess things and see how I did in terms of progression and performance. Today was an all time low so from here I can move on.
I have four weeks with no work in front of me, all I want to do is relax and take advantage of this chance in as many ways as possible. I definitely want to surf again after one year without getting wet, and for sure I need to direct my energy in another direction from climbing on the roof. I want to go climbing in UK. We will see.
I am sipping the last drops of my Laphroaig 10 bottle, and this is the perfect conclusion.

LIGHTWEIGHT, BABY!

2012-01-20T13:41:00.009+01:00

In the pic, my dog Phoebe checking I respect the speed limit.

Yesterday I didn't work at the school, but at the roof.
The weather was quite bad, it was cloudy and a strange mixture of cold and warm, dry and humid, alternating.
I had a go at my project, but my skin start sweating from the second move on, so I immediately understood that it was time to bring the weightbelt out.
On my first session, climbing with 2 kilos on made me really struggle, as you see in this video; three days later, my second session went better and I started linking a few more moves; last Tuesday I put in a really good training session: first some front levers on the Beastmaker, as you see in this video, then some bouldering on my wall, setting a nice problem and trying it until climbing it in two halves, and finally I climbed four easier problems with 5 kilos on, trying to focus on precision, core tension and footwork; this all seemed to pay dividends yesterday, because I nearly did the classic line under the roof twice with 2 kilos on, and managed to repeat "La stanzina verde della follia" with the extra weight. This great session is featured in this other video for you all to enjoy.
These sessions with 2 and 5 kilos really worked my back and core: it's the way to go in my opinion; especially on the roof, all the move are dynamic and snatchy, and keeping the feet on despite the extra weight right at waist level, where it's most influential over body tension, is really important. The most important thing, then, is that it's fun as fuck; I mean, it's really really fun, interesting, challenging and physically exhausting.
I feel very tired today and am looking forward tomorrow's session; would be nice to go there again with my girlfriend and the dog: puts me in a good mood for pulling and always reminds me that my girlfriend has no clue about what's going on when I climb; last Saturday, while I was struggling under the roof, with poor holds in my sweaty hands, trying to stay on, she thought the best advice she could give me was "Relax, keep calm"...
I am eager to test my condition elsewhere, to see how much this kind of training applies to general skills and other problems: I will start discovering this from next month, hopefully; I want to climb tomorrow and train on my wall on Sunday, then for the next week the plan is still the same, Tuesday fingerboarding and bouldering, Thursday bouldering at the roof, then I want to go back to Varazze in the weekend.
I've been really surprised by the front levers session, because it's been a strong one, I front levered holds that I find very hard just to hang generally, like back2 in medium pockets and index monos, and I haven't done any fingerboarding in a long time.
I think it could be that a fingerboarding cycle really tears your fingers, it really works them to exhaustion, and progresses take a while to set in. Or maybe I don't know, or maybe it's climbing on the wall, or maybe the simple act of sleeping close to the Beastmaker.
It's nice to be on the move again, after stagnation. Makes me happy.

TWO DAYS AND TWO KILOS

2012-01-12T18:03:00.004+01:00

I'll try to be brief this time.
Two days is not only how long the new final sequence lasted, it's also how long the bouldering season lasted.
I went today, and it was boiling. My fingertips are shredded and painful, and I could not have a decent go.
Luckily I had finally remembered, this morning, to bring the weightbelt with me, so I took the opportunity to start training, given that climbing the project was out of question.
What a difference two kilos made!
I don't think I've done more than three moves in a row! Skin was a problem for sure, it was painful without that extra weight, imagine how painful it was with it, but I don't care.
I am out of my (tiny little) mind with happiness. Trying so hard, failing so hard, feeling every move so hard, filled my heart with joy and my mind with psyche. I was stuck, I kept going there to repeat what I've already done basically, and as I've said, I had lost focus. Now, with a simple weightbelt on, my world is full of energy again.
It's clear that I love this shit. I love the struggle. I love the process of putting myself under pressure. I love to train, and to suffer when doing it. It's been like starting it all again: the enthusiasm, the dreaming, everything was there again, despite the boiling sun, my shredded tips and my aching muscles. My mind has never been so strong. I see a goal in front of myself, a new one. I needed it. If only I'd known it before.
After getting home and having a shower, I went for a walk with the dog. On the way home, I stopped by Trombicche, my favourite place in Siena, for a glass of red wine. Walking back home, I found myself so happy; I was thinking that I could relax, have a nice meal and go to bed without worries, because tomorrow I won't neither train nor climb, I will only have to work.
Imagine this, a life that works at the opposite. I can relax because I don't train. Ahah!!! That's mental, innit.
It's beautiful to have a new path in front of me and to know that with each step I will improve. The battle is the aim, enjoy the battle.

TWO DAYS

2012-01-11T15:47:00.016+01:00

In the pics, the original sequence from another point of view, a point you can read about below.

Two days, that's how long the new final sequence for my project lasted.
Yesterday I realized I cannot and I don't really want to use it, and for many reasons I want to stick to the old sequence, the original and the only one.
First of all, the original sequence is the original, and that's enough.
Second, I have climbed the original problem using the original sequence at least 20 times.
Third, I have climbed the project with the original sequence twice already, without managing to top it out.
More precisely, I cannot use the new sequence, because I rationally put myself into finding it, to cut off a low percentage move. Well, that's finding a shortcut; in reality not, because as I've said the new sequence added a move and was really more physical, but it was also, for me, a lot more steady (although I never got the chance to try how that last deep lock would feel, coming from the start); so, being more physical and more steady for me, it's also easier. And that's not fair.
Moreover, the first line to be climbed on that roof, was a problem I put up to start practicing the direct line: it featured its first hard moves, then abruptedly cut right to big holds and the top, in a sequence whose final move was the same of my new sequence of the project.
So, that is really dirty. If I go right at the top, why not going right lower? How could I justify, to a climber who attempts the problem in the future, that he or she cannot go right low, but only at the top? How could I explain that he or she cannot get the jug because it's out? How could I tell him or her that it's unfair to directly dyno to the good pinch skipping the nasty crimp?
You see, what a mess from a simple move.
Then, most importantly, what about myself? The new sequence, having already succeeded with the original one, is for sure a step back, both in terms of climbing ability and mental strength. If something feels easier, in a situation like this one, it equals cheating. It's not like using all the holds while others skip them, it's using holds that neither I, have never used. If I climb the problem with the new sequence, there could be only two possibilities: I never try it again, never fully appreciating how the original one would feel after topping it out, and having doubts forever about my ascent and never getting the chance to get better; or I keep trying it to repeat it with the old sequence. Both are useless.
The first one for the above reasons, the second one because it's just pointless.
So, in the brief space of two days I changed again my mind. I wonder if, last Sunday, when I was so weak, it was also because I had been searching that shortcut; I had cheated; I had admitted defeat. I'll never know.
What I know, is that one of my resolutions for this year was, and still is, to be pure. Especially to myself, which is my most severe judge.
So tomorrow I will go there, and again I will try to destroy that motherfucker that is ruining my life. If I can't, I'll pull out of my bag my weight vest, I'll wear it, and I will start lapping the motherfucker with 2 kg on, as a start. Then I will go on, and on, and on, until I'll feel satisfied.
When will I be satisfied? I don't know, but crushing the project in fine style without breaking a sweat could bring me some kind of joy, I reckon.
Chalking up before the final move, could.
Getting the jug so easily that Velasquez could have portrayed me in the meanwhile, could.
You got the idea, I'm sure.
Many years ago, when I was 14, one night I went with some friends to steal bengal lights from the train depot, to use them the following day at a football match. And I never liked football!!! We had to cut the barb wire, to crawl under the lights, and all that stuff. We nearly got caught. I wonder why I put myself in that situation.
I wonder why I put myself in this situation: this problem plays to all my weaknesses. It's long, 15 moves; the hard part is the last 4 moves; the hard moves are dynamic, something I'm very bad at, and reachy. Plus, it has small, painful holds, mostly pinches, a prehension I have never ever trained until recently. The enemies we choose qualify us more than our friends. Enemies are chosen by hate, friends by love, and hate is always more pure and more sincere than love. I wish I hadn't seen that line. Or do I?
But now it's too late. I'm stuck in it. I've done all the hard part, I only have to bear the pain and top it out, then I'll go home and I'll watch my face in the mirror for a long time. And what I'll see will be the true me.
Keep the fucking faith, love and destroy.

6 A.M.

2012-01-08T18:00:00.016+01:00

In the pics, the new sequence. Powerful but steady.

In the pics, the final move stuck with the old sequence, on one of my best goes. Ouch!

Tomorrow is Monday, and my alarm will go off at 6.
My holidays are over and they've been great: I climbed nearly every day (nearly every day on the same problem, I must add) and I am happy.
Yesterday I finally decided to change the final sequence: I am bored of smashing my fingers over the hold, under the hold, to the right of the hold, or getting flappers due to its sharp and painful lip. This new sequence adds one move, and it's more physical than the old one, but it's also more secure.
The real problem, though, is that I am not enjoying this anymore. I am happy with every good go, but as I've said I feel it's over, and every go that doesn't see me to the last hold is perceived as a failure and a step back from my best efforts. Some days I didn't want to be there really, and only the company of friends or the simple presence of my dog gave me the necessary happiness to give my best.
I found out it's about happiness.
So, today I went there to finish the business with the new sequence. Well, I couldn't even do the moves in isolation. OK, it was very hot (spring is here definitely, mount Amiata has not seen a snowflake), humid and still, and I was on my fourth day on, but it was too perfect not to give it a try: a siege of months, progressing from not doing the moves, to doing bits of the whole problem, to getting close, to losing my mental sanity, to recovering it, to keeping going there during the summer, to finally finding myself with the final hold in my hand and letting go, to finding a new sequence and, in my mind, to finally doing it on my last day before going back to work and real life.
Wow, that would have been perfect.
It wasn't to be. I gave 110%, trying to find every possible faggotry to climb it, from liquid chalk, to putting my clothes on the holds to cool them down, to sheltering the sun with a pad (obviously falling exactly on the move that at that point was uprotected, a move I haven't fallen off from in months...), but simply I could not do it. As I said, I didn't even do the single moves.
Could I give more? Fuck no. Not today, not in the last two weeks.
I will go back to work and for sure I'll be thinking about the problem. I'll be asking myself if this new sequence is cheating. I'll be asking myself if it's simply the time to let it go. The fact is that I want to be happy while trying it, and this sequence makes me happy.
Now it's time to focus on work and training, hopefully I won't have a tight schedule right from the start, so the plan is to rest tomorrow, have a session on Tuesday morning, rest Wednesday then deliver on Thursday if I am free from school.
I am not exactly sure I became weak(er) while concentrating only on this project. Maybe I haven't broadened my skills, but for sure I perfected what I can do. Proof is that the other day, at the end of the session, I managed a new 7c that Michele had just opened (and hiked as a warm down five times in a row to get footage...); what once would have been a seasonal success, is now an end of session tick. Cool.
Right now, just before going to bed, and with work ahead again, I really am proud of myself. Years ago, when I had the other jobs, in the bank, or at the Public Notary firm, Suday evenings were a nightmare. As soon as I packed the car, with crashpads or my longboard, all the happiness of the day was gone, because in front of me I only had a job that I hated, and that gave me nothing except money: no joy, no self esteem, no commitment, nothing but money, dirty, soulless money. My jobs stole not only my happiness, but also my time, because they cancelled the good moments I'd had. I desired something else, and I never stopped searching the balance. I did not quit. I upset and disappointed many people, but finally I found what I like and what makes me happy. I don't need money, I need people. I need humans. I need good relationships, my best friends close to me. I need to see smiles when I'm at work, and I need to be thanked.
I won back an entire part of my life: I have my Sunday evenings again. And most of all I have my entire self back. The good and the evil self, but I have it all and I am, for once, proud of what I do.
Keep the fucking faith, love and destroy.

HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL!

2011-12-31T18:38:00.005+01:00

In the pics, the beasts during a pause. Yes, it was gorgeous.

Today I went there again, and I felt great. Everything was special again, myself included: I have never been so close.
I am happy because I understood why I keep going there: because each time I go there, I have another opportunity to improve and most of all, like today, I have another opportunity to feel happier.
I am happy. I am happy because I believe in myself, and because I want to be pure. As pure as my little dog Phoebe, who knew shit about what was going on around her - me, climbing at my best, like never before -, but who stayed close and calm, never barking, never crying, always ready to give me a lick on my face. I want to be as pure as a shark, or as a crocodile: the two creatures that changed the least during evolution. They are timeless animals: they do what they do since their appearence on Earth, and they do it because it's the only thing they know.
I wonder why I felt so good today.
I was alone, I was full of love.
I had all the sun in me, all the trees, all the air. I was in peace, I was even with the whole planet, nothing more to give, nothing more to have. The act of being there, completely there, was enough: whatever I gave, I had it back in some other form. I wonder what would I be writing, had I had a bad climbing day, but it doesn't matter. As long as I'm happy now, I don't care.
I am ready.

SOMETHING VERY SPECIAL!

2011-12-28T16:35:00.002+01:00

Yesterday was a special day, made of friends that are more like brothers, with me even if far away; a day made of perfection. Today was a normal day again, but nothing will ever be the same, I won't ever be the same: once we've been special, although for a brief moment, we won't turn normal ever again. Once we've loved, in a special way; once we've been loved, in a special way; or in this case once we've climbed, in a special way, we are changed forever. It may sound stupid to give such an importance to a climb, but it's not about the climb, it's about what you do to get that climb; it's about what you go through; it's about what you inflict to yourself and to your close ones; but most of all it's about understanding our deepest recesses; it's about discovering the most horrendous and the most beautiful aspects of ourselves.

Footage from today:

NOTHING SPECIAL?

2011-12-24T10:24:00.016+01:00

I woke up this morning wanting to take advantage of the bad weather to finally catch up with the blogging, then I read the recent entries on Doylo's and Lu's blogs, and I realized that I had nothing worth reading, and I could somehow detract something from them by writing useless shit. Like I am doing right now.

Anyway, stupid thoughts aside, I also felt that I should at least give a decent reason for the absence.
The reason is the one mentioned above, the lack of anything notable.
In the last month, I have been doing nothing special. And that's the important thing. I have worked this past month, in transforming the extraordinary into routine.
My - once - best and rare efforts on my project now are the norm, happening many times each visit, and really something is fading in terms of pure and brutal desire. It's not challenging as it was before, and I am less excited. I am far from my physical limits in terms of power and that's important. It's still very difficult to get it done, but it's not really hard anymore. It's complicated more than hard. I have to have good, hard skin to bear the pain of the sharp holds, but if it's too hard I dryfire off. It's got to be fresh, but not cold, otherwise I get numb fingers and so on with many other variables. Oh well, that's the routine, as routinary became my repeats of the direct line under the roof. I can't remember the last time I fell off that thing. It's mindblowing to me.
Then, on the home front, I reset my Beastmaker on the door frame, and found out that it's not too bad despite my recent finger injury. Despite not being able to really pull on my right ring finger, it's fine while openhanded. I can still one arm dead hang the small pockets front two, I can still hold a front lever on the small monos and also on the small pockets mid two. Medal. Yawn.
I went back to Varazze, home of the world's hardest problem. I found out that in Varazze it's very important to always ask a local, if present, before trying a problem, despite having it all clear in the guide. The pattern on many problems is this: Christian Core cleaned and climbed a problem, giving it a grade which was probably lower than the real one, and that's the one you have in the guide; then the problem loses three or four holds and a few footholds; Christian Core reclimbs the problem, declaring the grade not changed; then the problem remains unrepeated.
So, before spending a day on a problem, get the lowdown.
I treated myself with this beauty:

And this is all.

Extraordinay, isn't it?

INSTANTS AND MEMORIES

2011-11-28T14:57:00.005+01:00

Today would be my sixth day on. With two double sessions on Thursday and Friday, my mind screams "Go training!" and my body refuses to. Then my body screams "Go training!" and my mind tells not to. It's like being Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde, only with also an insane Dr. Jeckyll.
The weekend before this last one I went climbing in an area I had visited only once, one year ago. It's been very nice to meet friends and finally climb again with Filo, after his spring and summer spent ticking away 8b+'s on a string. Living the dream.
While driving home, a memory from a recent past surfaced again from nowhere, and has been staying with me ever since.
It's a picture I have of myself, sitting on the pavement ouside a Curry shop in Sheffield, eating my chicken curry with my hands, while waiting to be picked up by Dylan at The Works. People stared at me.
During the day I had come back to Sheffield from Liverpool, after realizing a couple of dream projects there, to climb again on gritstone. I had come back with some old and new friends, and again I had ticked my project.
So, there, still chalked up, cold, a bit dizzy from the pints and with the climb in my hands and mind, with no pressure on Earth, no money, no watch, no family, no work, no woman, just me the curry and the climb, I felt truly complete.
In those few minutes, I lived the dream. A small dream for most, not made of 8b's or epic flashes. But it was my dream and now it was reality. I keep going back to this memory, or the memory keeps coming back to me. Maybe it feels alone in my brain and want some company. Why, I wonder, that little one is so powerful? Why is it more powerful than the others, other ones of harder problems, for example? I don't know. It's just the way it is. Maybe in that day I had put something special in my climbing, and my climbing in reward gave me even more than usual.
I live for those moments. I'm sure if anyone could know how happy I am in those moments, how fullfilled, no one would even dare or think about giving me a hard time about my climbing.
Moments.
Moments come and go at their pleasure.
I have many memories closely tied to insignificant moments. For example, there is a particular smell of industrial floor cleaning liquid that, each time I smell it, wherever I am, brings me immediately back to 1984, to the first summer I spent in college, studying English in London. Each morning I would wake up, and go downstairs to the canteen for breakfast, and each morning there would be this smell, of freshly cleaned linoleum floors. I was twelve and did know nothing about nothing. Less than now.
Still, I can hear my steps on the stairs with that smell even now.
And while I'm on this delicate subject, I would like to tell you about the memories of climbing with my best friends: some are long gone, some others are closer. Yet, the most addicting memory is the most recent, as I've said before.
My friend Andrea and I, together again after all these years, under my board, pulling edges as if it were the only thing to do on Earth.
Which, to me, incidentally is.

THANK YOU ALL!!!

2011-11-18T14:58:00.002+01:00

I have many other things to write, but for the moment I would like to just thank all those desperate souls that came on this blog, lost in space, for more than 20.000 times, eager to know what's inside an insane mind.
Thank you.

THREE MONTHS IN TWO DAYS

2011-11-10T16:40:00.003+01:00

Last week I mutated.
After months of unstructured training, unexpected results came. Nothing in terms of climbing projects - this mutation dates back to mid October - but in terms of pure power levels.
First, I dominated the 45° on my Beastmaker, setting my PB at 15" (with my previous one being 3"... so five times...); I know that I have done 35" (twice) at The Hangar in Liverpool in February, but on my Beast my PB was 3". Now it's 15".
OK, I had cleaned the holds.
OK, I hadn't gone to work.
Ok, my hands had the perfect mixture of dry and sweaty skin to remain attached to those terrible holds.
Still... I don't get it. Five times better than my previous best attempts is a lot.
Mutation.
Then, just five days later, and on my second day on, I went to Area 51 gym to pass a rainy Sunday. My skin was very thin and I could not boulder everything I wanted, but in the end I had great fun for around 2,5 hours. When I had already stopped climbing, I found myself fondling a flat, 2nd joint wooden edge on the fingerboard. The wooden surface felt fresh and grippy and I gave it a go.
I did the strongest one arm pull up I've ever done. I went up as if I'd been pulled by a giant magnet; I fully locked off in shock for some seconds, then I jumped off.
The world was different then, and I felt it was the right time to get serious. So, with no longer rest than the time to chalk up a little bit (there was no need really but you never know...) I got the hold again and did five one armers. Two on my left arm.
I know that five is not that much compared to the many more of the strong ones (Keith, Paul, Ru, Riccardo are just a few names that come to my mind right now, not to tell about Malc, Rich, Stuart), but I have never been this strong before, not even on a pull up bar, let alone on a flat edge. Plus, in the last years I have trained one armers for one month in total, in August, so a total of 8 sessions in August plus one in spring that fucked my left elbow up.
I wonder where these feats come from. I for sure want to keep them coming. If only I'd trained with a plan, maybe they could be repeatable, but I haven't. I trained each time doing what I felt like doing. Maybe that's the key.
Anyway, for all the OCD maniacs like myself out there, this is, day by day, the training I've done in the last three months, that took me here.
Notes:
- weights were done with low reps, high loads, max 4 sets (more about it here) for back (3 different exercises), shoulders (2 exercises), biceps, triceps;
- easy Beastmaker means going through the main grips doing 6 sets of 10" hangs (two arms) with no extreme pushing (20°, 35°, big rung, mid two small, front two small, back two, middle monos, small rung back three, small rung front three);
- board is my home wall, on which I boulder at max intensity for as long as my skin allows me (1,5 hour generally).
Having said this (boring) all, I go training now.

August: just weights and bouldering outdoor.

September:
3 Beast (easy)
4 system wall (max int. little vol.)
5 weights
7 Sassofortino (weak)
8 weights
10 Chiesina (weak)
11 Amiata Top (strong)
12 System (max int. little vol.)
13 Beast (easy)
15 Beast (easy)
17 board (easy)
18 Amiata Top
19 board
21 board
22 Sassofortino
23 board
25 board
26 board
28 Sassofortino
29 board
30 board

Octobrer
3-14 boulder trip: just rock almost every day
20 Beast (easy) (30" back 2)
22 Sassofortino (weak)
23 Sassofortino (weak)
26 board (strong)
27 AM Beast (easy), PM system (underclings and lock offs)
30 Sassofortino
31 system (as above: strong)

November
1 Beast max int. (15" on 45°, 10" on slopey pockets)
2 gym super session (max int. max vol.)
5 board (strong)
6 gym mutation (5 one armers on 2nd joint flat edge).

SYSTEM TRAINING

2011-10-29T12:58:00.004+02:00

I decided to think a bit more seriously about my training. Bouldering on my board is fantastic, but there's much more I can do on it, as the video shows.
Despite being in decent form as of late, this system session on underclings and crimps (these second ones not in the video) left my biceps and back seriously worked, a clear sign that bouldering isn't enough.
I got back to teaching climbing classes (it seems like that this "teaching" thing appeals me really - maybe some low self esteem problems?) and it's great. It always shocks me when someone tells me "You made it looks easy" because they seem to forget (or they just don't know) that I've been climbing and training for almost nineteen years now, so I don't know what to say.
Rest today, rock and roll tomorrow.
Here's the vid.

A STORY

2011-10-27T19:56:00.035+02:00

Under the grey sky, a man and a woman were sitting on the church stairs, holding each other tight, hand in hand, gently kissing.
They seemed not to care about the wind that was blowing a light rain right against them, or more probably they simply did not notice it, as they probably did not notice that every passer by in the small, ancient square, stopped or slightly slowed his pace down, to have a look at them; because there, in that square and in that moment, they were the image of love and romanticism.
The way the man was rubbing her cold hands, and the kisses she was giving on his right cheek, pictured a happy couple in love, all tenderness, far from every vulgarity.
They were sharing their last moments together.
In a matter of minutes, that very afternoon, they were going to bid farewell.
This separeted them even more from everyone else in the square, in the ancient town and in the vast world: they were feeling as the last survivors, deprived of all hope.
"How are you?" asked the man, moving her hair from her face and discovering her eyes.
"I'm fine, I'm fine. And how are you?"
"I'm sad. I'm very sad. I did not want this to happen. It wasn't my intention."
"Oh, so we can be sincere now? - a quick smile crossed her face, colliding with her expression - So, no, I'm not fine. I don't deserve this. Not again."
His heart sank.
"I am sorry - he tried to say - I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want to play with you."
"You started it all. Why?"
"I was trying to be happy. I always wanted something to happen between us, only, I didn't expect it to be so out of my control."
He paused, and they became silent for a while. She put her head on his right shoulder, pulling the coat neck tight under her chin, it was very cold, then she put her frozen hands between his thighs, so naturally that it was impossible to consider it sexual or even less, gross. They were perfect.
Three days before, when everything had just begun, the sun shone on their first, innocent date. To be honest, it was innocent only for one of them. The small restaurant remained empty, after the last customer paid and went out in the early afternoon, while they, again unaware of anything else but them, kept talking as if they'd been friends for ages, but at the same time discovering each other as two complete strangers. The owner let them alone. Life was still beautiful when the first sign of the close future made its appearence under the form of a simple, plain, honest question.
"Do you live on your own or with someone?" she asked.
"On my own." he quickly replied.
The sun kept shining, but worriedly now.
Now, under the rain, worry was all that was left.
The square was becoming crowded, despite the bad weather; kids were going to come out of the nearby kindergarten in a few minutes, and parents gathered around the entrance with umbrellas and hats. No one had imagined, that morning, that it would have rained; no one but him. He knew it was going to rain, he always checks the weather forecast.
They still were in the same position, hugging. Not a single person managed to pass in front of them without observing what they were showing. Showing.
A man simply stopped to watch them for a few seconds, shamelessly, but then he smiled. An old couple seemed to have a judging look, but when they passed the old man put his arm around his wife's shoulder.
Then the children came out, yells all around. The man and the woman turned towards the noise and all they could see was a sea of colours, chaotically moving everywhere: red, yellow, brown, black, white, under the forms of jackets, raincoats, light hair, dark hair, eyes, faces. Colours, colours everywhere, moving and screaming. Screaming colours. This time it was their time to look and smile, and they became even more perfect.
The parents started taking the kids home, some by car, some by bike, some by foot. One kid was running on the edge of the church stairs, closely followed by his younger brother; as soon as he noticed the couple, he ran towards them and looking at them directly in the eyes, he asked the man: "What's your name?". In the meanwhile, his mother called him, telling not to disturb. "My name is Francesco." the man replied. "And what's your second name?" "Luca! - the mother yelled - do not disturb them!" "My second name is Lorenzi." "And what's your name?" the kid asked to the woman. "Luca! Stop it". "My name is Veronica." "And your second name?" "Bassi." and she laughed. "My name is Luca Doretti." the kid said. "And my name is Andrea Do-ret-ti." spelled the younger brother. "He is my brother." "And what are you doing here?" he managed to ask, just before his mother took his hand and pulled him away. "Let them, do not disturb! I'm sorry guys, he's shameless!".
"There's no problem, really!" they both said. "Ciao."
Then they remained alone.
"That's an interesting question the boy made. What are we doing here?" she asked.
"I am trying to be happy. As happy as I can, for as long I can, with you."
She did not bear his direct stare, and bent her head down on her knees, her black hair covering her face.
He thought about the previous days.
Despite the initial lie, he didn't manage to keep it to himself, and on their next date he told her everything: he was in a relationship he did not like anymore, yet he didn't know what to do. He knew there was still something between him and his girlfriend, but he feared it was something more like a brother like love, than a consuming passion and desire, as in the first years.
He was desperately searching for some feelings, he was trying to find the prove that he wasn't dead inside. He needed to be happy again, and now he had her, to try to.
He was feeling trapped, and the worst thing was that his indecision was hindering his happiness now, the happiness he knew he could live with her, even there, on those stairs, under that rain.
After the shock, she did not run away. She simply said "So it's over". And then she kissed and hugged him. Then they kissed again and again and they both understood that nothing was over, that nothing could ever be over untill they would have been free to live they happiness together completely.
Above all, he was thinking about the day before, when they met to say goodbye, and they ended up in a nice bar, on a sofa, drinking red wine and staying very close. They'd been talking about their situation for hours, she knew she had to run away from him because she was very fragile in that moment, and he knew he had started something that had escaped his control, and also he had lied to her in the beginning. Still, he didn't manage to keep his lie.
They were calm and sad, and they had agreed not to meet anymore.
They went to the bar to warm up a little bit, they relaxed, and they started a new conversation, not about their problems, but about their lives, cinema, art, music.
All of a sudden everything else disappeared. Homes, relationships, everything vanished in front of their current happiness. They forgot their promise and they kissed again.
Then she brought her legs on the sofa, she put her head on his shoulder, and quietly fell asleep for a few minutes in the bar, hugging him. He caressed her back and not a single thing in the world was wrong. They were the world and they were beautiful and right.
Today, they were almost in the same position, but under a cold windy rain.
Incredibly enough, he still felt they were the world, and they still were beautiful and right.
"You moved something in me, that I thought I had lost." she said. "I'm sorry, I can't stop thinking about you. I can't stop thinking that once we'd say goodbye, you'll get back home and you won't be alone."
"You're right. I won't be alone, but I'll feel alone".
"I will try to forget you if you ask me to."
"I don't know anything anymore. I only know that I feel good and happy with you. The moments we've shared are my belongings now. I will never lose them."
"I don't know if I can forget you."
"I don't want to forget you."
"I would like to just be free to live our story. I don't care for how long, and I don't care about how it could go. I only want to be free to live you."
"I'm sorry - he said - it's my fault. I haven't been fair. I knew I was in a relationship when I first called you. But that seemed right at the moment, and I always wanted something to happen between us. I really really like you."
"Don't say you're sorry. You only lied to me for one afternoon. The following day I knew everything and it did not stop me to call you again and to look for you again."
Now it was almost dark, and the street lights started giving everything an orange tone.
"There's no place for me." she said.
In that moment, he felt as if he'd remained the last man on Earth. He felt all the burden of his behaviour, and he asked himself whether he'd only searched some ego gratification, at her expense. "This is the price to pay for me - he thought - and I'll never be able to fully pay it."
"Let's go away. Go away." she said.
They stood up, trying to loosen their frozen bodies, but still hugging tight.
"Can you belive - she reflected loudly - that we are in this mess, and we've been togheter for only four afternoons? And we didn' even make love! We really didn't do anything wrong!"
"We didn't do anything wrong, no. We had a happy time together, didn't we? I was thinking that it's all or nothing now. I want to stay with you completely and free from everything else, or not at all. I don't want anymore to turn my phone off, for fear of an undesired call from home."
"All or nothing. That's the same for me. Sadly for me it's nothing, as it seems."
He wanted to cry, so he hugged her even tighter.
Then they went down the stairs towards their bikes.
"Isn't this romantic? We meet at the bikes racks!"
She smiled, with her broad smile and her dark eyes. Her light skin, her red lips and her black hair created a contrast so beautiful that she seemed to be constantly changing. Transforming from beauty to a different beauty.
Time seemed to slow down.
Words lacked.
"So..." she said, looking down.
"So..." he said.
Their last hug lasted an eternity and an instant at the same time.
With wet eyes they finally detached: first their heads, then their bodies, then finally their hands.
"So, what's our place in the bigger picture? What's our meaning in the world's history?" she asked.
"Tough one - he paused. Then he asked - have you seen how everyone looked at us?"
"Yes, they seemed nice to us, they seemed to like us."
"That's our place in the bigger picture. That's our meaning. We've been here in these days to make people believe that true love exists."
"Is ours a true love now?" she laughed, maybe a bit bitterly.
"It doesn't matter. But people look at us, and see a true love."
"And that's enough." she ended.
She offered her hand to him. He took it and caressed it. They looked deeply into each other's eyes.
"Ciao Francesco".
"Ciao Ve."
Then they went, and never turned back.

7:13 AM

2011-10-27T11:37:00.005+02:00

I really really like to train in the morning. That's something that I'd never thought possible.

As the pics show, skin is a little bit of an issue as of late, that caused me some hard times on rock, but nothing special.

This should have been my second week of complete rest, but I didn't even do the first one. I did a session on the board yesterday, finally managing, on my 7th session on it, to climb my project IN TWO HALVES. Success is closer. I hope it's hard, because it's giving me a hell of a time.

I did a couple of easy morning sessions on the Beast, getting back into it as gently as possible, still trying to keep my right ring finger quiet: I found out that it's safer to push it on the fingerboard than on the wall, on which you can't control how you'll catch a hold on a hard move, and that's dangerous.

The overall feeling is OK, and I managed to set a personal best on the back2 pockets, with some nice 32 seconds.

Beastmaker and home board. Is it the formula for greatness?

BLEEDIN' BIVI LEDGES!

2011-10-19T15:44:00.004+02:00

In the pic, some bleedin' bivi ledges.

I came out from these two weeks of holidays with a nice feeling of success, but also seriously worked. My last session on the wall, while providing still failure on the plastic project, left me with a very painful right ring finger.
I managed to gently (cough!) climb on it on Saturday, then I followed my previous plan of taking two weeks off, something that my entire body seemed to need.
Unfortunately, my mind needs fun, and as you all know "climbing is fun". So until now I rested but am planning to have a very gentle, introductory Beastmaker session tomorrow.
Meanwhile, I carved some nice (in my opinion) holds to spice up the wall, and provide some crimps that load the fingers evenly, a crucial requisite to keep injuries at bay. I also made a lot of small footholds: they don't make the handholds any smaller, but they make them harder to hang and the problems obviously harder.
The plan is to rest, get gently into training, then start training again in one or two weeks, eyes firmly planted on the prizes.

TIME

2011-10-13T10:00:00.003+02:00

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.

STILL BEING THERE, BEING STILL

2011-10-09T18:03:00.009+02:00

Some video stills from the latest trips to the project. Analyze. Repeat. Get perfect.

KNOW YOUR ENEMY

2011-10-07T12:08:00.007+02:00

In the pics, some moments of rediscovered joy in the storm of my emotions.

The enemy is insensitiveness.
There I was, in Chironico, seemengly unaffected. I could not understand, at moments, whether I really wanted to be there or not, and I had been waiting for these two weeks off for ages. Why? The excuses I gave myself were many: temps in the high 30° being the first one.
But there's much more. There's what Stu blogs about here, there's the grade chase, and there's my enormous ego, which teamed to a baby, naive mind, generate monsters: one monster, me.
The idea was to go to Swizzy for two weeks to climb an 8b. I had a few ones marked and I wanted to take my time to find the best suited for me.
But then again, something was deeply wrong with me: being there all alone, with boiling temps simply was too much to bear, and I sheltered myself in insensitiveness, acting as if the place was packed with psyched climbers and conditions were pristine.
As you can imagine, the clash between mind and reality has only one possible winner.
At moments I really felt it's time to quit. I'm tired. I feel lonely and I am lonely. I can't bear anymore to be climbing on my own all the time, unable to soak other people's energy and happiness. It's not worth it, if I go to Swizzy and I don't want to be there.
Then something changed. I don't know what. Maybe finally toping out on a problem that had spit me off in previous visits. Maybe finally finding again the joy in the simple fact of being there, doing what I love, in the chase rather than the catch. Because if it's true that not every chase ends with a catch, it's also true that every catch has a chase before. Enjoy the battle.
I really don't know. I really don't understand. The only thing I'm sure of, is that I need others as I need air, and I need emotions in everything that I do. I have to desire a problem to climb it, I can't simply climb it because it's dry or in the shade: I have to somehow see it and get an instant crush for it. Maybe it's going to be a one night stand, or a love story, or a disaster, but emotions have to be in the game. Otherwise it's not a game worth playing.

PLASTIC SOUL

2011-09-29T20:09:00.003+02:00

I am mad for my board. It's mine and it's the best. Most of all, being mine, it has my rules. If you come here, and you want to touch it, you have to follow my rules, you can't do anything about it.
I am training regularly since completing it, the last weeks have seen three sessions on plastic, one easy day on rock mid week, and one "serious" day on rock in the weekend. I have put the Beastmaker aside for the moment, the last sessions on it had been very hard and my back 2 were a bick achey.
My training on the board consists in setting an easy problem, a harder problem to be completed in the session, and a project for the following session; to the present this has worked fine, I stuck to the program and pulled as hard as I could: the texture of the holds is still pretty rough, they have excellent friction but sessions can't last long because of skin. Anyway I can't last long either but I keep intensity quite high.
I keep focusing on core tension as usual, and I alternate shorter snatchy moves and long pulls.
I am satisfied, even not entirely, by the holds selection: I could not see them before, so I had to trust the manufacturer when I gave him the board details, and to be honest he sent me really nice holds, maybe a little bit too good for my likes, but the plan is to soon place 1 cm thick foot jibs and to ban the use of the holds as foot holds. This should sort things out, 1 cm is small, especially if they are perpendicular to a 53° board.
I've been having a project from the last four sessions now and it's hard. Want to climb it tomorrow, today it was simply too hard.
And there you go a little video.

SOME PICS

2011-09-19T17:49:00.005+02:00

Here you are a few pictures from a finally cold Amiata top, from the Dolomites, from a day at school, and the first moves on the completed board at home. They pretty much cover the majority of my life.

I rarely have been so happy about the arrival of the fall. I know that when I'll get up in the next months and it will be cold, dark and wet, I'll probably change my mind, but for the moment I enjoy the freshness in the air, that yesterday made me cling to the rock effortlessly.
It's addicting.

1080 LITTLE SCREWS

2011-09-15T07:21:00.003+02:00

The board is almost finished. Yesterday, in an endless afternoon, I put the T-nuts on, with 1080 little screws. I had 360 T-nuts, and each one has three small holes for three little screws. That's why I drove 1080 little screws in, yesterday.
When buying the stuff, a few people, included the guy I bought everything from, told me not to buy and place three screws for each T-nut: after all, it's not going to be reset as often as a public wall, and being private it will suffer less abuse (ahah, they wish...). They said two screws were more than enough.
I refused and bought and put three little screws for each T-nut, because I am sure of few things in my life, but I'm sure that I want to do this job just one time, and the best way to do so, is to do it RIGHT the first time.
I don't want to be driving more little screws anytime soon or not: that's why I wanted all the screws in.
Whatever the task, there are only two ways to complete it: the right one and the wrong one.
I can't be sure that any of the T-nuts won't break or any of the little screws won't move or who knows what.
But the only way to do my best to do it right was to put THREE FUCKING LITTLE SCREWS FOR EACH T-NUT.
And that's what I did.

53 degrees.

2011-09-09T18:45:00.005+02:00

In the pics, the Beastmaker on again, the system monster and a phase of the building.

No, it's not the temperature, although it's still over 30°.
53 degrees is how much my board overhangs.
The very day of my last post, after pressing "publish", I went and bought the beams to build the frame, after nights and nights spent sleeplessly obsessed by the thought of the construction details.
The walls of the room cannot bear any weight, they are super thin. So I thought the best way was to take advantage of the little geometry I know and build the frame from the angle formed by the wall and the floor, and the angle formed by the opposite wall and the ceiling: the hypothenuse of a rectangle triangle. I measured the height and the length and found out the beams had to be 5 meters long. So, I thought, I go there, I buy them, then I stuff them in and I'm golden. Hmmm... how do I carry them? All right, I'll spend a few Euros more and I'll get them delivered to my door. Luckily, before doing this, I thought "How do I get them into the room?". A quick round of measuring showed it impossible. Panic. The dream was dead even before starting. So, thinking about all the money I will save from not paying the rent in Florence anymore, I decided to have someone build it. I sent a few emails, but when I got the answers, with prices going from 1.600 Euros up, I had already seen the light. I bought 2,5 meters long beams, with other 2,5 meters long beams to join them together via 10 mm bolts. And that's exactly what I did. After a few more sleepless nights and some long drives to and from Florence spent thinking about what I was going to need and so on, I couldn't resist the tension anymore and went for it.
When I got home with the beams, I drilled and joined together the first three, and I put them in place and they fit, I felt like a god.
In just three afternoons the frame was done, and then I went to buy the panels.
I drilled them, but sadly here, in this remote country abandoned by God and civilization, it's impossible to find T-nuts. After hours of driving around, I found a hardware shop which had... 33 T-nuts. I only needed 327 more. So I have to wait, I can't put the panels up until they are T-nutted. Naturally, I couldn't resist the desire again, so I thought "fuck it" and put two panels on nonetheless, one third of the all board. The rest of the frame is still open, so I will place the T-nuts from behind, without dismounting the panels. I know it will be a pain in the ass but I don't care. I have my 1/3 of board on.
Then I made some holds from small (they seemed big to be honest, when sitting on the chair) wooden beams, I made them as precise and smooth as I could; then I made footholds, from a 1 cm thick beam ("You can't slip off 1 cm footholds!" Unclesomebody once told me), I drew some lines on the panels and screwed everything in place, system like.
The result is a monster.
I just can't stay on.
To put together two moves in a row, I had to TOEHOOK the edge of the panel!!! As the video here clearly shows, there's room for improvement!!!
So, while I wait for the holds to arrive, I have my Beastmaker on again, and the hardest system wall I ever touched.
The future is here.

THE THIN RED LINE

2011-08-30T15:13:00.002+02:00

The thin red line which separates enthusiasm from idiocy, psyche from obsession, has been crossed again last Sunday.
The previous week had been the hottest of the whole summer, and of the last three decaded, with temps constantly in the 40's: it was quite incredible to read 26° when I got out at 7 AM each morning.
This climate made me feel incredibly weak and lethargic, I could not escape a nap in the afternoon, but miraculously I always found the mental energy to go to the small, cozy gym to push and pull tons of iron: I mean literally tons. Not in one time of course, but if you pause to reflect on it, it's amazing what those small little muscle fibers can do. In my pulley sets, I move more than 2.400 kilos.
Anyway, this was still ok.
Then came the weekend, and a drop in the temps; an increase was very unlikely to be honest. So, I don't know why, I felt incredibly strong all of a sudden, and on Saturday evening I thought that the following day, with the new fresh temps, was going to be the right one to put my project in its place.
I woke up at 8 and drove to the boulders. I got there and failed. I felt weak. I didn't manage to repeat one single problem, despite doing again the first part of the roof direct. But I was dryfiring off holds, and I had to squeeze the shit out of those holds in order to stay put; despite one good go I obviously did not complete my project.
Incredibly disappointed, and close to hang the shoes to the proverbial nail, I drove back home, only to be saved by the sight of a thermometer measuring 34°.
What I had taken for excellent conditions, was just a "normal" August temperature for central Italy, ten degrees less than the previous week, but maybe, only maybe, a little bit too much to climb your hardest problem to date.
So, after the wonderful Dolomites weekend and a boiling week, I am here with my mind completely absorbed by the wall I want to make: I would like to make it fast, but still I have to work everyday, and I can't decide what's best. I have taken the first half of October off, direction Swizzy. So I have five weeks to go. Should I take advantage of these weeks and focus only on weights and fingerboarding to get to the holiday with some juice and build the wall after my return, or should I try to build the wall super fast to try and train on it for at least three weeks, or else should I do half and half, training regularly and fitting in some wall building sessions?
Please advise.

TWO FINGERS FOR YOU ALL AND FOR ME

2011-08-27T14:11:00.003+02:00

From the 7 AM sessions, a few pics I'm quite proud of: they are about progressing. It's all about progressing. If you progress, you are on the right path, and I always want to be on that path.
The different expressions on my face tell a lot.

DOLOMITES REPRISE

2011-08-23T17:05:00.006+02:00

In the pics, some great moves on great rock in a great setting. They only lack a great climber.

Every time I turn right, at the end of that private road that comes from my friend Filippo's house, I can't help but think that I am going in the wrong direction.
Down right, there is the valley, then the plain, the motorway, work, bills, rent.
Up left, at the end of the road, there are the mountains. A lot of rock.
When I turn right, I keep telling me that there are also a work that I enjoy a lot, and a girl I love (most of the time anyway). That makes the journey home more bearable, but there is always another bastard of a thought that comes in: "Why can't I have a nice job and my girlfriend up here?".
Anyway, after one year I went back to the Dolomites, this time just for bouldering. It's been great, sunny and hot, really hot, but chilly in the nights, so that I had to sleep in my sleeping bag, in the van. Bliss. I mean, really bliss. What's better than crushing (kind of...) all day long in the sun, then eat as much as you want, then get into your van in a nice grass field just beside a house where all your climbing friends are, and sleep for 9 straight hours?
The weather was superb, not even the slightest of afternoon showers. I climbed a lot, a fucking lot, a whole lotta love, too much simply.
DOMS and sunburnt made my back and shoulders painful during the second day, but hey, that's a small price to pay.
I did a few new problems and I repeated a few old ones, adding a super low start to a problem I did years ago: three more moves, now Keith and James have to come back and flash it again ah ah!
I also managed to repeat "Dolomitenmann", a problem that is so evident yet completely unknow to the climbing world. You cannot find anything about it on the Net, except my own blog entry. It's really a brilliant problem, and not easy also: this time I did it at the end of my second day, but I had to fight hard!!! I am doing some comparisons with other problems of mine with confirmed grades, I hope to get a better idea over the weekend.
Checking some guy's guide, I found out that none of the problems I had done had a sitstart, before I did them. I don't really know how people judge lines: they were the most evident sitstarts ever. Kind of...
Finally, a small video of one of the many overhangs I visited in these two days.

THERE'S A RIGHT TIME FOR EVERYTHING

2011-08-16T16:23:00.004+02:00

In the pic, showing who's the real beast.

I am here at home, waiting to go out and join my friends to see the Palio.
I remember that years ago, these days didn't bring anything except tiring days spent together having fun and doing silly things, and endless, sleepless nights of partying.
Now everything is different, I get sick with two drinks, and climbing never leaves my mind: after a night out, the following morning I think about recovering soon and well enough for my next session, and I know that I should be more disciplined, especially when I have so little time to go out. So the other day I got up early and went bouldering. The night before had been very relaxed, and I had a beasty day out. Despite the high temps The Roof was in good nick and a scientific preparation with Antihydral the previous days provided the necessary grip.
I was with my girlfriend and with the dog, and I've had a wonderful time. I repeated the roof direct twice on two attempts, then I repeated "The Green Room..." again twice on three attempts.
Those feelings, especially on the direct, will remain with me for a very long time: feeling the holds as different holds from ever before is a great sensation, and even greater being able to detach and watch oneself going to the next hold in a previous unimagined and unimagnable control.
So, while the nights on the whiskey leave a trace of hangovers, tiredness and waste, the hours on the boulders, sometimes, leave a heritage of joy and power forever.
I don't regret the many nights wasted, because I have great memories, I have met amazing girls and laughed just too much, but now I can't feel completely free when I'm out, I know that my goals are so hard that I have to be serious, disciplined and completely focused.
It's been good until it lasted, but now I'm up for something else, that I feel much more important.

ON THE DEATH OF AMY WINEHOUSE AND OTHER THINGS NOT RELATED TO DEATH

2011-08-02T17:16:00.004+02:00

Amy Winehouse's death is one of the closest things to an ancient Greek tragedy I've ever seen. It could have been written by Sophocles, really.
You have the Hero, and it's a tragic hero, because she obviously dies, and you know she's going to die from the very first moment, from when you hear her sing "No no no" to rehab. The tragic hero is completely alone, yet surrounded by many people: it's the Chorus. In the Greek tragedy the Chorus speaks the voice of wisdom: he knows it all, and is close to the Gods. Everyone knew what she was doing, and sometimes they've tried to help her, but the Hero's will is stronger than anyone else and she keeps her track, believing that she can escape her Fate. She can't, because she's left alone by all her closest ones. How can I tell? Because otherwise she wouldn't be dead. Watch her performance at "Shepherd's Bush Empire" in London in 2007: have you ever seen a star searching for friends, relatives and boyfriend in the public so often? She does it all the time. She feels alone on stage, you know it and you cannot do anything to help her.
Why not every single star's death can resemble a Greek tragedy? Because often the big stars commit the terrible sin of Hubris, the sin against the Gods, the arrogance of the human being refusing to be human and wanting to be god-like. She never seemed, to me, like that. She seemed a little girl, all alone, in desperate search of some joy, unable to keep anyone close, or maybe to little and too fragile to have someone really close. Many other stars live unreal lives. No one can really empathize with them: when they die, it's the death of a myth, maybe, but of an unknow person nonetheless. Someone you'd never get to know really. With Amy I think it's been the opposite: she apparently had a normal life of normal problems. She did not live in a 56 rooms mansion in Santa Monica. She didn't marry five or six multi millionaires. She didn't have secret sons around, and she's never been found buying boats or expensive jewels. In its tragedy, her life was more real than any other star's life. That's why she died. Because in real life, if you have an addiction to drugs and alcohol, you die. In the stars' life, you do go to rehab, you detox, you also get the chance to fix a few imperfections with botox and surgery, and there you go, ready for next year's world tour.
So, if the public didn't empathize with the Hero, if the spectator did not view himself in the hero, the overall aim and reason of the tragedy was lost: this aim was the "kàtharsin ton toioùton pathemàthon" the purification of the viewer's emotions through the act of living those emotions and dying because of those emotions in the person of the Hero. That's why Amy Winehouse's death, in my opinion, is a Greek tragedy. Because everyone could empathize with her. She could be one friend of yours. One friend you cannot help enough. Or a friend's daughter, or yours. You want to help her, you try to, you think you've made it, then you turn around (by accident or willingly?) for a second and she's gone.
I think her only sin has been to sometimes waste her enormous talent. But that's typical of a tragic hero.
On another subject, I keep beasting my elbow as much as I can. I keep moving weights in the gym and I keep dangling from the Beastmaker and I keep going to the boulders despite the +30°.
I made progresses on the Beast, hanging for the first time the small monos with my ring fingers, and doing front levers on back two on the deep pockets. On the real thing I repeated my very own "La Stanzina Verde...", which to me is hard.
Keep the faith and hug the big monkey man.

A LIGHT

2011-07-29T17:07:00.003+02:00

Sometimes I find myself wondering, à la Chatwin, "What am I doing here?". I mean, how can we find in ourselves the truth that our path is the right one? We can try to, but sometimes we just cannot be sure. Sometimes we realize that our path is not the right one, but obviously this is of little help: there is often only one way to do a thing right, and many ways to do it wrong.
"Notre vie est un voyage dans l'hiver et dans la nuit, nous cherchons notre passage dans le ciel où rien ne luit" is the epigraph at the beginning of the famous novel "Voyage au bout de la nuit", and it is something I deeply believe in.
Today the light in the sky, to help me find my way, and to help me know I'm on the right path, came under the form of a picture, shot by one of my students, a very bright one, a week ago. On the back, she thanked me for what I'd taught her: "something I'd have never learnt otherwise".
It's a light, and now I can put my head down and start walking again with renewed enthusiasm and energy.

MORNINGS, WOOD AND IRON

2011-07-24T11:44:00.011+02:00

We all know that sometimes what others think about us is not true: for instance, and that's strange and probably the only case in climbing history, I have discovered more than once that people say that I have climbed routes or problems that in fact I haven't done. How this happens is impossible to understand to me, but given that life imitates art, it does happen.
What I found out recently, on the other hand, is much more important: I found out that some other times what we think about ourselves is not true. And I found it from nowhere.
I am lazy. I like to sleep a lot, and to concentrate all my energies in just what I like. If I could get a taxi right to the boulders, I would. This is what I thought, and it's not true. I found out that I like the walk to the blocs. What I dislike is, in reality, having to do that walk after hours driving on my own, and carrying four pads. Anyway, I'm digressing.
I don't like mornings and early starts. I have had to get up early in the past to go to work, when I was living in Rome, or in the Notary firm in Grosseto, and I hated it. Wrong again. I didn't hate the early start, I hated all that came afer that, the traffic, the jobs, the people. I hated getting back home so late that I ended my training session at 10,45 PM and I hated never having the time for anything.
It's not when you get up, it's what you get up for, that really matters.
A month ago, my girlfriend started her 5 years residency at Siena hospital, and one day, all of a sudden, I found myself wondering "What am I doing here in Florence?".
The answer was simple, I am here for work, I work here therefore I live here. Hmm, that's right but maybe a little bit too rational. What do I have in my life, beside a job that I love? I have my best friends. Most of them are in Siena, and the ones that live in Florence, I seldom meet them. Then I have my climbing. Is it easy to get to climb in Florence? No. Do I like the gyms in Florence? No. Hmmm... Reflect. Then I obviously have my girlfriend. Do I like seeing here just in the weekends? No. Do I like having to fit love and rock all in the small time of a weekend? Not at all.
What do I do in Florence, so? I wake up. I have breakfast, and I go to school. I work, I get back home and I do some kind of training. Then I have dinner, I watch some TV or kill it on the Net, then it's bed time.
Wow, what a life. It's really unbelievable, I know, but right now that I only do weights and fingerboarding, if I don't go sport climbing with someone, I can spend an entire week without talking to anyone, except my students or collegues. My human relationships are at an all time low.
So probably until now I hadn't ever felt the need to give my life a change, but the other day it dawned to me: I have to move back to Siena and to start commuting to work every morning.
WHAT? An early start. Yes, an early start. But this time for a job I love, not hate. For spending more time with my girlfriend. For building my own board, and starting again teaching climbing classes. For being able to meet a friend in the afternoon if I like. For being closer to the boulders.
I feel this is the right thing to do, because it goes against every logic: it will make things more difficult and less comfy, but I know that I have to try.
So with this idea in my mind, I have started the early wake up in the past week, while still leaving in Florence, to get used to it. I didn't even think that 6,30 exist also in the AM, but I found out not only this hour does exist in the mornings also, it can actually be a nice moment.
There is definitely something strange in the air when you start your first dead hang set and the clock says 6,59. I had never done it before, but I thought that the best use of these freshly gained hours in the morning, before using them to commute, was to put in some Beastmaker sessions. It felt great to be honest, it's a shame my left elbow does not allow me to push as I'd like.
Going to bed very early has been crucial. I never had to take a nap in the afternoon in the whole week, despite packing in quite a lot of hours of hours of work too: I have trained at will, following the program with no problems and also managing a couple of double sessions, Beast in the morning, weights in the afternoon. On this matter, I am currently doing weights twice a week, short sessions of 15x4 to sort my elbow out and staying fit. Kilograms keep adding up and I am satisfied. It's not how long you are in the gym, it's what you do in the gym, and I want to do it right. I hope to recover from my elbow problems and to start moving big piles of iron plates soon.
On rock I feel as weak as a kitten. I can't lock off, I can't pull and my body tension is non existant.
I have taken many wrong decisions in my life. This one can be just another wrong one, and in this case it won't make any difference, or the right one, making all the difference. We will see.
Everything is very confused and very simple: keep the fucking faith up and the fucking head down.

INJURY IS HERE

2011-07-18T16:24:00.003+02:00

I think, I almost sure that I am really injured. My left elbow had been on and off in the last weeks, but after Saturday night it's quite sore.
I am trying to understand what went wrong, not to repeat the error in the future (ahah, if only that could be possible!!!): I think that the first sign of serious fatigue was after an assisted one armers session on the Beastmaker. I simply did too much: two one armers for each arm on various types of holds. At that point everything was under control really, and the first bad hit came from a PE session: I felt it achey before even starting, nonetheless I went through the sets, one after the other. Is the mind stronger than the body? Yes and no...
Anyway, the Siena comp also played its role, the overhanging holdless dihedrals smashed my shoulders and for sure compressed again my elbows.
So up to this point I was still confident: pulling up on the Beast was out of question, but on the rock I felt at ease and the post session icing was doing its little miracle each time. I have woken up a couple of times thinking that it had passed really.
Then came Saturday night, and its fever. The program for the night was a party at the gym at the sea, then straight to Tartana Club, Marco Bresciani spinning and mixing for us.
The night involved a large amount of the following ingredients: pulling on plastic holds; alcohol consumpion; loud music; barely dressed girls in high heels.
As you can imagine, it's been absolutely fantastic, but my elbow was fried yesterday and is still sore. I will do weights today, let's see how it goes under the lat machine...
In case you don't believe that I had great fun the other night, these small videos from my phone could convince you.

SUMMER IS HERE

2011-07-13T17:26:00.004+02:00

Summer is definitely here. As you can see in the pic, chances of big numbers are not high, when it's over 28° in your house at 9 AM.
With daytime temps reaching the magic 40° barrier, there was only one thing to do: pull out the tiniest tank top I have, and hit the weights!!!
Entering the gym has always that magical aura made of dirty lockers, filthy showers and smell of piss; but when you enter the weights room, you can't help but feel like a god. It's dark because electricity is expensive, you know, and the air conditioning has still to be invented. There are a few fans, and with no windows all they can do is move the sweat stink around. It really is bliss.
Doing weights is so easy compared to climbing: you just have to pick them up, move them in a simple way, then throw them down. Remember, even if you are using weights so light that the 40 kilos girl next to you uses them as the warmup, at the end of the set you HAVE to throw them down, you don't put them down, you throw them down because you are hard core and you know what super high intensity body building is.
Another thing you have to do is to make sure you take a couple of loud, deep breaths before starting the set, so that everyone around hears you: because you are hard core again, and this set will be so fucking hard that you are almost scared to start it. God only knows what could happen: the sky could split open, so tough is this set.
Anyway, doing weights is the only thing I can do know besides fingerboarding, so I do weights and I do them as hard as I can. I have done weights every summer in the last four years and they have fixed a couple of elbow problems, pumped my biceps and made me generally fit. It's a win-win situation.
Finally, a small video that will make the start of this video more clear: it's about myself doing "Powerstrips" in Chironico. I didn't flash it, and I didn't do it until I found the right beta: campusing. On the top out, though, my left hand pinky got stuck (or it gave me this impression) in the crack, it scared me and I jumped down in agony, pronouncing the famous phrase.
I hope you like it as much as I liked being there, at the boulders, with my friends, doing what I love.

STALLING POWER

2011-07-03T14:33:00.003+02:00

In the picture, one moment from a recent Palio, with my contrada crushing the race and going for victory.

The comp came and went, and I had great fun. After all, more than a comp it's been a nice chance to climb again with my friends in Siena, on the new wall we all fought hard to obtain, and about which we are very proud and happy.
I climbed relaxed and chilled, did a few of the 18 qualifiers, my hardest tick being something in the 6b range. The girls were competing too, and I spent a good amount of time showing (off) sequences on demand. It's a dirty job, but someone's got to do it.
Somehow I managed to find myself in the finals, so while everyone else was drinking iced beer (it was 35°), I and the other finalists were green with envy. I spent all the time trying to get some blood flow again in my bulging forearms, then it was time to go. I failed in trying to convince the route setter to do the finals on a fingerboard, therefore I marked a nice zero, with the second problem, a gently overhanging dihedral-chimney, smashing my shoulders and lower back. Anyway I finished 4th on a field of 22 competitors: the fifth had been climbing for six months at the moment of the comp, and the other ones even less. I am great. This brilliant performance pushed me in 296th place in the overall national ranking, over 339 competitors. I really am great.
The following day I was thrashed, my back was stiff, I had a tweaky finger and my right forearm was hurting because in a fall I hit it on a friend's knee. This sadly forced me to cancel the usual roof session at Chiesina. Not good.
I went back to Florence, and I had my recovery week.
I needed it at the end.
Despite my dodgy shoulders and back I put in a strong PE session on the Beast, with my 15x6 routine. Wow, it works. I found myself able to complete more series than before and no need to alternate them with easier ones. Sadly, this session woke my left elbow up, and it was pissed...
With this session I got to my long weekend, originally planned to go and try a certain route, that instead I spent with fellow Fabio between Sasso and Amiata.
In three days I managed to do a good volume, quickly repeating my old problems, up to 7c/+. I failed in doing a harder variation of "I Mulini", the problem I did last year courtesy of Mr. Thomas Mills himself. This variation links the first half of the traverse of "Fame di Stelle" into "I Mulini". I was a bit tired when I got there and being also hot I never got the crimp well enough to propel me to the jug. Got close but no cigar. One to go back to.
So this long weekend of pulling led me to the week that's just passed, in which I only tried to nurse my elbow. I started again doing rotators cuff exercises, because I am sure my shoulder problems after the comp have something to do with the elbow, and the boring forearms curls. I am tempted to subscribe to the gym to move some iron in July and August. The problem is that I am using some supplements as of late and I don't want to look in the mirror in September and find a linebacker instead of a Font 8c+ beast. We will see, IIRC last year the gym did well for my other elbow, so maybe it's an option to fight the urge to climb and train. This urge led me again under the Beast last thursday: with all the attention I am capable of (*cough*), I did a recruitment session with sub maximal hangs, 10 seconds for 6 sets, on good holds: 20°, big rungs, 30°, back2, mid2 (medium), front2 (small), back3 (small rung), front3 (small rung). After that some ice and it's not too bad. Still I am scared to do pull ups, and this is bad.
This weekend saw me chill out in Siena for the Palio, I spent friday drinking whiskey and soda and flirting with girls, and I spent saturday recovering. Today I wanted to climb but a late start and some friends coming home for a visit kept me quiet. Physically at least.
Tomorrow I want to go climbing, despite having no quickdraws I got back my old rope and so it will be fine for toproping in boiling heat.
I found out a crucial tufa broke three years ago on my route, so now it's even harder. This terryfied me, and made me feel guilty for not putting in double daily session every fucking day.
I really would like to do more, to train more, more wisely and more intensely. I really would like to give more.
KEEP THE FUCKING FAITH.

MORE ENDURING POWER

2011-06-14T16:00:00.004+02:00

A few things changed recently, but I kept sticking to the plan. I should have gone sport climbing to start trying a certain route before the full Summer, but I find myself going bouldering instead, and doing not one but two competitions.
You all know how much I dislike competitions, how poorly I climb on plastic and the likes; despite this all, I am happy to be going to do these two. One is the first one ever hosted in my hometown, on our recently built wall; the other is organized in the central square of Lerici, a wonderful city at the sea in Liguria, by my friend Toni from Toscoclimb, who also happens to be one of the main developers of Wild Climb climbing shoes. He gave me many pairs of shoes, and also sponsored the new wall. The least I can do to thank him is to go and show off at the comps.
The current training regime revolves around power endurance. I always thought I was only good at power climbing, I have no idea about my power endurance level, and I know I am shit at endurance climbing. It would be very interesting to do the guinea pig and go under scrutiny like Stu did (but he onsights 8a and climbs 8c...).
In time, though, I have put up some longer problem and traverses, and I have often found myself setting 10 moves long problems at the wall. That isn't pure power for sure.
Anyway this kind of training is a change from usual sessions, and I am very confident that it will pay off not only on my specific projects but also on "normal" bouldering; only, I have to tailor it to fit in a longer training plan, given that it was originally meant as a three weeks long period, a brief introduction to the anaerobic-lactic world, to make me a bit fitter in order to at least get to the route and put the clips to the top in one day!!! I want to keep this training for the summer, probably putting in a bit more power sessions as I did last week with a session of assisted one armers on the Beastmaker.
Last Sunday I went back to my own private Parisella's Cave, the Chiesina roof. I am spending there all my outdoor climbing time and it makes me happy. It's the best I can do right here and now. Especially when I also tick a new problem, like I did last time.
It's the variation I dismissed as "too easy to even bother" when I first started trying the big project. One friend of mine told me to do that one first, but I thought it could have distracted me from the main target. For sure its difficulty is not even remotely close to the project's one, but still it took me two sessions to do it. It's twelve moves long and quite burly to be honest, especially in this heat wave. Great fun though, I am psyched I did it!
After the reliefing success, it was time to do some homework: laps on the classic line. As I said before, I cut down the reps, from 4 to 3, to keep power levels high; it's a very hard training for me, because I am not light and because my forearms stick to their task quite well for a certain amount of time, but then they suddenly explode and they take forever to recover. I think it's due to my style of climbing (I always squeeze too much, but hey it's a roof), also.
The first two sets of three laps are in this video: it's a bit boring to watch someone repeat the same moves for minutes, but to me it's very motivating. I can recall the feelings of each lap, the growing fatigue, the bulk in my back muscles, my forearms as heavy as iron, the moves growing in difficulty with each lap. I can still hear the voice telling me "Let go. Give up. Go home. Take a rest." and to be honest I don't know how or why I didn't listen to her.
I only know that when I got back home I was happy and proud of myself, and that I can't wait to go back there again.

ENDURING POWER

2011-06-11T17:31:00.003+02:00

In this video, one set from the recent power endurance sessions: 15 consecutive maximal dead hangs and pull ups, with as little rest as possible, all for six sets. I fear my next session as hell.
More than four minutes of suffering boiled down to just over 60 seconds for your sadic voyeuristic pleasure.

LOOKING WITH NEW EYES

2011-05-30T12:40:00.017+02:00

WARNING: this entry is long. The short version is: I found out some of my old problems are hard; I found a new connection under The Roof (my own private Parisella's) and I started training again. On the other hand if you feel confident enough to challenge my writing obsession, prepare yourself a big cup of tea, take a big bag of cookies and dive in my mind. Thank you anyway.

One of the (many, I know, and I'm a bit sorry for that) things that I complain about on this blog, is the lack of reference in terms of the difficulty of what I try or climb. This is the problem of climbing on one's own and opening new problems in areas that are seldom visited. Everyone has experienced this, I'm sure, even the big names. There's a line from this video that keeps resounding in my mind: just because something feels hard, it doesn't mean it is hard. Blimey, if James says so, I'd better believe it.
So, I drive a couple of hours, I brush a problem, I struggle on it, then after x tries or days of effort I do it, and I am clueless. I mean, I can probably tell if it's in the 6th grade or in the 7th, but not much more.
So, when my problems get some attention, I'm always glad and afraid at the same time: glad because it's like being a proud father when something yours is appreciated, and scared because if something is easy and felt hard that's not good. The much feared downgrading is always behind the corner, and sometimes it's used to establish a hierarcy between the persons, not between bits of rock. I already blogged about this here.
These past two weekends, the Amiata blocs have seen the appearence of a strong team of pullers, tearing the problems apart. I am very glad because my lines are appealing, as it seems by the number of repetitions they get, and because what felt hard is not really easy.
The problems I've put up in the various sectors in the last two years are in the Font 7b/7c+ range and that's not bad after all.
One other thing that is sometimes hard to accept is being crap at finding beta. I never seem to be able to pick the easy sequence, and this clearly makes a chaos. But when a problem gets five repeats and none with your sequence, you're an idiot, but a proud one. The battle is my battle against myself: there's no one else in it. It's an endless battle, I cannot win and I cannot lose unless I give up: a thing that I just don't do. The battle in itself is the aim.
Finally, I have to take some serious rest. My sciatic nerve is still causing problems, my calf is painful and my thigh and heel are still a bit numb: not good. I have climbed a lot on this injury, and despite being happy about it, I clearly asked too much from my body. I need to recover before starting the summer training. This is being postponed because I kept climbing, but I also kept spending far too much time in my car, driving. In some of the past weeks I have been to Amiata three or four times a week, and each time means almost 300 km of Tuscan roads. It's tiring and very costly also. I can't do it anymore, I have to select few, good climbing days: just like past Sunday with my visiting friends. I climbed for a full day (a rarity nowadays!!!) repeating many problems, included some harder ones.
The amount of energy I can obtain for a group of nice, happy and psyched friends is enormous. It's incredible.
I have to thank my friends for this: they came and they appreciated my problems, even if short, lowball, or eliminates. One of my closest friends commented that one problem was "a new world", and he defined me "a purist with a British vision"!!!
So, I can look back at things I have done years ago with new eyes: our past is not a prison of things set in stone; it can be understood under new perspectives; it can be interpretated and reshaped. It cannot be cancelled of course, but we can learn and we can get rid of the bad bits of it.

Then: after one week off and a period generally focused on climbing with no structured training in it, I am back to the program. I have a short term goal and a long term one. Plus another one in the middle.
I need to build up some serious power endurance, to climb my two projects, that are in the 15/20 moves range. I have another project, a short one of just 5/6 moves, but I think that it will benefit from this kind of training, because there's a good amount of pure power training in, as you ma see if you analyze closely the picture.

So yesterday I found myself under the roof again, this time to do laps on the easier lines. I took the chance to refine my sequence for the project, finding a way to avoid the cut loose and subsequent swing out left once gotten to the jug that marks the start of the hard bit. Promising.
Anyway yesterday I had the worst conditions I've ever found there in 10 years: it was literally suffocating. The previous days' rain had completely saturated the air and the total lack of an ventilation forced me to go down the final step of madness, taping my battery powered fan to the roof to cool down a crucial pinch, as the picture shows. It worked. Madness pays off.

Anyway it was a hard session: I started sweating from the first lap and didn't stop even during the long rests. I had to do 4 laps of a chosen line, for 4 sets. I decided to try the 7b+/c sequence that Keith put up years ago, but then found something new: I found out it's possible to connect the new project's start with all the hard part of the 7c!!! YES COME ON ANOTHER LITTLE PROJECT!!! It's something around 7c/+ into 7b+/c. I have no idea of what it translates into, but it's cool and hard. Paranoically I thought I was going to do it first go, but I was so far from the mark!!! Just the project's start felt very hard and I could not climb the new line, but I decided to use this new problem as the first lap of the 4. Wow, what an error!!! It's too hard for even one go, and this left me very tired for the following three goes on the 7c. Obviously I could not complete any of these goes, but I stepped back on immediately after falling and kept going to the top.
A 30 minutes rest passed in a breathe and I had to go again. This time I nearly completed the new line, only to slide off from the crucial heel placement (having my heel still a bit numb from the sciatica didn't help): it's hard, I reckon 7c+/8a. Whatever.
This second set passed again and it felt better, despite my aching skin (Antihydral next time!!!) and my forearms the size of a Zeppelin. Again I did not complete any of the goes in a oner but I think that's exactly the point here: going beyond complete failure and fatigue.
Another 35 minutes, another cup of coffee, supplements, and heavy heavy breathing. A rain storm was loudly approaching.
This time I decided to stick to the chosen problem from the first go, without trying the new project and it paid off: despite being at the 9th go I crushed it, then I almost did it again on the following go, but didn't managed to get to the top of the problem on my third go. It was clearly time to go home!!!
What did I learn from this session? Firstly that I enjoy so much this shit that I probably am REALLY nuts; secondly that for my projects four goes on this line are too much. The problem I used is 12 moves long; 4 laps make 48 moves, more than twice my projects; I know that now I rest when I jump off the top of the problem and I crawl back under the roof to start again, but I am afraid that it's too much volume that hinders the power aspect in the hard moves of the 2nd, 3rd and 4th go; moreover, I was totally empty after the 3rd of the 4 originally planned sets. So, from next session I will do three laps for four sets: that will pack up still 36 moves, with hopefully still a high emphasis on power. A quick talk with The Guru tomorrow will be necessary.
So this is it. On a final note: I found a nightmare on the road back, a hell of a storm, to which this small video doesn't do justice.

Well, if you've made it to this point, without throwing the pc out of the window or cursing the author, give yourself a pat on the back, accept my thanks and gratitute and enjoy the rest of your life until the next time I'll steal your time from it.

CLIMBING IS FUN!!!

2011-05-25T19:28:00.002+02:00

Last Saturday I went climbing. Climbing is fun!!! It's so different than waking up at 6 am then spending hours trying a project. When simply climbing, I felt free again. I didn't know perfectly every move, I didn't know how exactly every move should feel: how hard, how painful; every move, even on problems I have done hundreds of times, felt new and I was curious again. I was even free to fall, free to forget my coffee, free not to drink accordingly to the nutritionist's advise, free to be amatorial. Not that I did it, I behaved as professionally as I could, but I was free not to.
Still, I miss the battle. I enjoy the battle.
On Monday afternoon I was so charged that I wanted to pop up at the wall and check out the 45° wall that they have built. Luckily I phoned The Guru before, and he informed me that the new wall is very smartly kept with no holds on. After knowing this I still wanted to go to the wall, but since I didn't manage to find neither a flame thrower nor an axe, I didn't go. I ended up in a dark garage, with a small 45° board peppered with holds that all face the wrong direction and a Beastmaker.
You don't need much more to have a great session.
Despite climbing well on rock, I don't feel very strong as of late, and some water retemption from my - very light to be honest - creatine supplementation, contributes to make me feel a bit fatty and weak. Not all is true, and although I'd like to be ripped and to lose some fat, I still want to concentrate on training at the highest possible intensity. We will see.
At the end of the session I tried a couple of tests on the Beast: one success and one failure, as the videos below show.
I will visit Amiata in the weekend, with hopefully a new sitter added to an old problem. The idea for the summer is: get strong and climb hard (d'oh!), not necessarily in this order.

SATISFACTION

2011-05-18T15:35:00.006+02:00

In the pic, the sunset from my little green room.

I wonder which kind of person I really am. It seems to me that I am a calm and patient guy, I don't like stress and I am not aggressive.
Despite all the above, instead of simply taking the joy of having reclimbed the roof in all its length, adding the first two moves at the beginning of this year, and leaving it in peace forever, I put myself into situations like this one, in which I get very stressed, I am under pressure and I become very aggressive. I always raise the level of my committment, and this, apparently, collides with what I think my true nature is.
So, in one of these excalations in tension, Monday afternoon I got home at 4 pm, I took the van and drove to the project. I got there very late due to a traffic jam, which didn't help my relax, and started warming up with just some light left. I was tired, but kept going, it wasn't too hot because now the trees have leaves on, and they shelter the problem from the sun, creating a nice little green ceiling. I dubbed this athmosphere "The Little Green Room of Madness", and in it I am as comfortable as a man can be. I am at home.
Soon enough I had to take out my head lamp, because it was getting very dark, but despite everything I managed two good goes, in one my right foot slipped off due to lack of core tension, in the second my left one gave up due to an even bigger lack of said tension.
I slept in the van and the following morning, or to be honest just a few hours later, I was there again. I felt very tired. When the alarm went off, all I could think about was to keep on sleeping, and this should have told me something. To be honest, I felt shocked in realizing I was so tired, I shouldn't have been, in my plan. My plan didn't contemplate the fact that it was my third consecutive day on the problem: Sunday morning (another very early start), Monday night, Tuesday morning. My fingers were feeling stiff and my skin ached a bit. I don't want to think what it would have been without Antihydral...
Having some light helped alot, and I went through my usual warm up, that I finish by doing the moves of the problem from the last one to the hard dyno. As of late, on many many attempts, my right heel has peeled off. The placement is awkward, downsloping and polished; when I get there strong, it stays put, but the slightest weakness in my body means I can't keep the tension.
I pressed on and had another very good go: I did the move very well, then I got to the pinch... and my entire body gave up. I was projected down and out, and it was over. My fingers were in pain, and even with good skin, I clearly was so tired that I couldn't move. I packed my stuff, drove like a madman for two and half hours and was at the school on time for my 11 am class.
This problem is hard on your whole body, it squeezes out every drop of core tension you have, all the strength you have in your body. When I fall, I chalk up and go back on, usually being able to complete the sequence: just a small rest on the ground seems to do magic, but doing the whole thing in a oner is a completely different thing. It's a dream come true, being able to perform the dyno after the first ten moves, something that only some weeks ago was still the unridden realm. That's why I am satisfied.
So, I almost did it, but didn't do it.
Now it's very hot, and I really need to give my body some rest. I started having some niggles in my lats, my back is very tired, and last Monday I also managed to compress my sciatic nerve, so despite the antiinflammatories taken, I still have my left calf, heel and back of the thigh a bit numb. 'nuff said.
So I want to take a couple of weeks to cood down, then I will go back on a serious training plan. I want to keep going regularly to the roof during the whole summer, because it's be the best way to keep the feeling, and the closest possible way of training for it, given the dramatic lack of climbing walls here.
So this is it. I am happy, I have improved and I have given my best.
In this video, the images from what you've just read.
Thank you all for the support in the past weeks.

BACK TO THE PROGRAM!

2011-05-13T18:52:00.004+02:00

In these small videos, courtesy of Ru and John (thank you guys), some great moments on British rock. In the first one, Llanberis Pass. A nice arete on the roadside boulder, and my flash attempt on "Bus Stop". I am very proud of that last one. I was tired, and I chose it because it's shorter than "Jerry's Roof", for which I clearly felt I had no power endurance. It went fine, at first I didn't feel secure on the top out, and on one go I bailed on the move to reach the lip. Neither Ru nor Jim understood why, and to be honest I didn't as well. Ru, wisely, suggested me to climb the top on its own to get comfy on it, but suddenly, before even having a decent rest, I felt that urge growing up inside me, the urge to cut the crap and do the problem.
And so did I. I am very happy because the guys were happy that I had done it properly, and when in being happy you make someone else happy as well, it's just the best feeling in the world.
In the second one Burbage, and "The Terrace": what a nice little gem of a problem!!! It really climbs brilliantly. Another great day, so typical. We got to The Peak only to find mist and fog, but when we went back to check the rocks, the skies cleared up and we were given our chances!!! I really had to dig deep, the previous day I had had a monster session at The Hangar with Tom and Rich, and the final tests on the gym's Beastmaker left me super psyched but also a bit spent!!!
I can still recall the rollercoaster of emotions, after missing the good hold on my best go. Happy for icing the move, and devastated by my punter's mistake. Was I going to be given another chance?

On another note, after my crazy last weekend, I decided that I had to work more seriously for the project. Despite doing again the moves on last Sunday and climbing the problem in two halves, the first hard move of the original line is still very hard. OK, before I wasn't even close to doing it, and now I have done it three times, but I need to do it again to finally get to the top, so, breifly, I want to get there as strong as I can be. This means only one thing: training.
I went back to the Beastmaker, doing two very close sessions on Tuesday evening (two handed max dead hangs) and Wednesday morning before work (one hand max dead hangs, short session); then on Wednesday afternoon I went sport climbing (led a short juggy 7a+ four or five times). Today I still feel worked, but not as I was expecting; with two days off to fully recover, tomorrow morning I'll have a very early start and I'll go there and finish it off.
I dont' know if you've noticed it, but before I wrote I led a route. It's not a typo, I really led it, I mean putting the rope in the quickdraws and all that. It felt great. I was super relaxed, maybe because on a 10 meters route there are 100 bolts, but really, it was great. I know I am still a pussy if I have the bolt below my feet, but I don't care about it that much: sport climbing is just a fun way to stay fit for the moment, and on my project routes I know I'll do fine because they are super bolted.
I want to finish this entry with something important, the only important thing: my joy when I almost did the project. It's been incredible. No wonder it took my whole person, body and mind, and it deposited it in another dimension. I was screaming, jumping around arms in the air, and I was the greatest. So I want to keep the joy of the moment, above all the other important things that I have learnt from the following days.
It's all about the joy.

THE FUTURE IS NOT HERE YET: ONLY MADNESS IS HERE.

2011-05-09T16:29:00.008+02:00

My ascent of the roof extension is not valid. I did not complete the problem.
I was wondering why I woke up at 6 am on Sunday morning, instead of having a lie in in the glory of my success: because I had not succeeded, I had failed. My body knew what my mind refused to accept: despite doing all the hard part, I failed on a move and fell. I had never fallen there before, and when I found myself on the ground, my joy for having done the moves I had never done before took over and I found myself running around screaming, arms up in the air. I mistook the joy of progression with the joy of success. This rush of emotion and adrenalin kept pumping and before I could realize it I was already at the market buying a bottle of Champagne to celebrate.
I needed to succeed to take the pressure off. I fooled myself into thinking that because I never fall on those moves, I could take the tick; well, I can't.
Sometimes in the past I have been a bit self indulgent, not caring about dabs or not toping out on problems on which I was scared or simply lazy.
This time is different. This is one of the greatest challenges of my climbing career, and I want to do it properly.
What shocks me, is how fragile my mind is on this matter, and how I managed to convince myself that I had done it. It took me two days to realize it, it happened finally this afternoon while I was driving home. I could not be happy anymore, my desire was still there, unfulfilled, and the beast was still hungry.
It's shocking really.
I think one of the factors of this foolishness is that I knew I needed to detach myself from the problem, to finally climb it, and I think that my mind took this great chance to release the pressure, and behave just AS IF I had done it, to make me relax and do it properly in a close future. In this process I lost myself, something went wrong and I completely deluded myself, and my closest friends and loves. The process of acting AS IF, to detach from the problem and finally climb it, has worked fine for me in the past, but this time it took over. I lied to myself for one split second, and then it all crumbled down. Unluckily, saturday I also had forgotten - on purpose? - my camera, and being on my own, no one could prove me wrong. Luckily, I finally proved myself wrong, and I am so happy.
I wanted to make this gift to my girlfriend, also. Coming back home, for once, with a great success to dedicate to her devotion for me and my obsessions.
It's so simple when I think about it: you either got to the top or you didn't. How could it be possible to get lost between these two simple alternatives, still is a mistery for me.
But the joy was true. Only, it was a joy for progress, not for success.
This is really a journey inside myself, my mind, my obsessions, my weaknesses and my worst demons. I learnt something new about myself, and what I found out is a monster.

THE FUTURE IS HERE

2011-05-07T13:09:00.005+02:00

Today I just went there and did it, first go of the day. I don't think I'll ever forget waking up this morning and seeing 6.09 in the clock. I tried to get asleep again but in 0,1 second all I could think about was the extension, so I went there and I did it. Today everything was different and I will try to talk about it sooner or later.

I called my line "Futurismo". As you may know, Futurism was a strong cultural, political and artistic movement of the early years of 1900.
As you may also know, this movement is very controversial, due to its militarist ideas and relationships with Fascism, so I feel the need to clarify why I chose this name.
Obviously it's not a tribute to Futurism; I simply chose this name because I think that my problem shares with Futurism the same characteristics: it's violent; it's completely self centered and, most of all, it's deeply wrong!!!
I would like to address you all to a couple of tunes whose words keep bouncing in my mind since this morning. Here you go.

WRONG MINDSET

2011-04-30T19:25:00.004+02:00

In the video stills, two important moments: sticking the move to the "rest", and sticking the precarious dyno to the only good hold of the hard section. I am analyzing the video frame by frame, to try and unlock even the slightest detail that could help.
Today, for example, I went back to using my old Jet7 for my left foot, because the new Team, with their padded toe box, create too much friction when I drag my foot on the underside of the lower part of the roof while I dyno. I need to shave every gram.
I am happy. As I have said many times, minimal changes have a butterfly effect and nothing is what it may appear at first glance: how missing a hold can be better than sticking it? It's simple: because last week I was hitting the hold properly but my heel was peeling off; today I was hitting the hold in the wrong bit but my heel always stayed put. On the dyno, it's not hard to cover the distance to the hold, you can jump to that hold, but you won't hold the swing. It's hard to cover the distance without cutting loose. That's why sometimes missing a hold can be better than sticking it.
On a side note, in my last post I clearly showed my wrong mindset when I wrote I badly timed session could spoil the project. That's not what I want to think.
All I have to do is get back on training, doing good and well timed session. There are many ways to do things wrong, but often only one to do them right, and I only want to think about that single right one.

ONE GOOD GO

2011-04-26T17:42:00.004+02:00

In the video, one very decent go on the project: hitting the hold of the hardest move, unfortunately with my heel peeling off the placement; humid rock (it was raining and very still, almost suffocating despite not being too hot) and probably not a strong enough core are to blame I reckon.
The important thing is that these good goes happen with increasing ease and frequency. From there the problem is still hard but I am confident.
On a related note, I am struggling not to train: I really want to, but a wrongly timed session or too much volume could easily have terrible effects on the project, and given that I can't climb on it every time that I'd like, I'd better keep my infamous calm. I am surely strong enough to climb it, so training is off for the moment. I have to say that last Thursday, when I got there with three days off before, I felt definitely strong: after all, I didn't lose 19 years of training in those three days.
That's all for the moment, see you in the future...

THE FUTURE

2011-04-23T17:10:00.008+02:00

In the pics, the devastation I left behind.

Where once the chilren's laughter used to resonate, and Mother Nature shone in all its beauty and grace for the climbers to rejoyce and appreciate, now there is only a desolated wasteland, after my passage.
What a day.
And I didn't even climb my project. I didn't really have to, I almost don't need to, I know it's just a matter of time, but on days like today everything goes into perspective. I was strong. I have been for a little while now, and it feels so good. In the last sessions I have never fallen from the usual roof direct and I have never missed the first dyno. I am almost doing it every time from the extension start, and soon will come the day that "almost" disappears.
Cold fingers are still an issue, but again I feel confident. A slight adjustement in the heel hooks sequence proved to be crucial, despite the fact that I had already tried it but to no avail. Something has changed. Many things have.
Today, while doing another lap on the direct, I got the pinch and I knew I wasn't coming off. Every time I do it, I do it more slowly and in a more controlled way. Today even the last crimp felt good, it almost made me drop from the surprise. I love climbing because climbing always shocks me with new things, and because despite the fact that I am just a punter close to his fourties, climbing still makes me happy, happier than I had ever thought on that mid-March day of 1993, when I first put on an oversized pair of climbing boots, touched the rock, and broke forever that invisible veil that separeted me from a better reality. I will never thank myself enough for that choice. It was in me, and this all is like me.
A few of the things that are starting to make a huge difference:
doing short, intense sessions instead of long tiring days;
buying new shoes with fresh rubber, especially on the heels;
buying Antihydral, getting to the problem with hard skin for the nasty holds;
being confident and taking a few more rest days;
and most of all, never, never ever losing the fucking faith.

ONE OF MANY FIGHTS

2011-03-24T15:26:00.018+01:00

In the pic, warming up during a previous visit years ago.

I am on the train. Phone calls have been made, text messages have been exchanged, and the plan is unfolding nicely.
I can't cancel the smile from my face.
My pad is wet, it's raining, and from the window I see nothing but wet lands.
And I still can't cancel the smile from my face.
All of a sudden, I feel the pressure of what I am going to do, and gone is the smile. My mind is strong, I have climbed this problem so many times, in bed, at school while waiting for the students to finish their tests, at the gym while resting between attempts, in the shower. Now I am going there do climb it only one more time, but the only time that matters, the one that's for real.
I get down at the station, I feel good and happy, I am home again, despite having moved again: home is where friends are?
I see Tom as I go down the stairs. Long time no see my friend.
In the car there is Tom's friend, a true beast, and again through rain, mist and some more kilometers, I finally see the see, the Pier and The Orme.
It seems doable, then it seems not. How low will those clouds be? How wet will the holds be? How small will they feel?
As it happened many times in the past, when I lay in the tent in the grass surrounded by the Dolomites, mixed feelings fill my thoughts: I want to get it done, but would pay so much to have a simple, valid, small excuse to call me out of the fight. "I hope it rains outside". How many times I recited this mantra to avoid another 15 pitches on 50 years old rotting pitons. Some of these times, my prayer became reality, and with all the pressure disappearing in a split second, we raced down into town to dive ourselves into coffee, strudel and krapfens. Some other times, the sun reminded us that we were there to do some business, and our will made the rest. Make coffee, eat some cookies, dress up, gear up and do the job. Despite all the toil and torture, I do not wonder why I remember all the times that we climbed and not the times that we could rest and go to the bar...
"I hope The Cave is dripping" I find myself muttering. This thought lasts no time. I don't hope it's dripping, I feel it will be ok, and I don't care how it is in fact, because I am going there and climbing the problem.
"It's not looking good".
"It's dripping".
"It's wet".
IT'S A FUCKING STICKY DAMP.
The guys take everything out of the car and I understand that we are truly here for business. No exitation, it's time and when I hear Tom asking me to do the "Acid Test" for conditions, I am already one arming the pocket, with even my down jacket on. Tom is happy.
With a giant packet of tissues we all dry the holds, and it's really time.
Pressure kicks in. I am not afraid, because I know that I perform at my best under pressure. The first move is fine, and the second one feels good despite feeling a little longer than I expected. I know where to place my feet and I get the flake good and I am solid. I flag my right leg behind and I match, then I throw out right and I miss the hold. I am back on Earth.
It's been a good go, given the conditions (I wonder if it really was a sticky damp or if it simply was a total, complete and utter swimming pool...) and given the fact that I smartly chose to came here on my 8th consecutive day of climbing or training. I am knackered but confident. Maybe just too confident, almost naive.
I rehearse the move, and now I know where to take it and how to take it. It's time again and this time I don't miss it, but I miss the heel hook because I haven't checked where it is, and I fall going again to the good drilled pocket. Now I really am under pressure, this move feels very precarious, you can't see the hold, and I am perplexed.
Adam pops up to say hello, and I am happy to meet him. I am even happier when he points out that I am heelhooking the wrong bit. He shows me where to do it, and on the previously precarious move now I can shake out for how long I want. Thank you.
Releif, I rest and go again. I am confident.
I push with my left foot and I hear Tom saying "Nice and smooth Lore, nice and smooth": he's so close yet I feel the words so distant and I think if it could really be, that I am nice and smooth in my climbing. All of a sudden I am at the flake, I match, and while kicking with my right foot I cut loose and swing out, it should not happen, I think, but I am still there, on. I kick in, and go on. I get the hold out right, I heel hook prefectly and I get the pocket. I am there, so close. And so fucked up. I struggle and I fall on the last move. No. The nightmare. Falling on the last move. And feeling completely thrashed. Pressure pressure pressure. I perform at my best under pressure.
After what I judge a good rest, which it's not, because in these conditions a good rest for me should be a three days rest, I gulp down some supplements: aminoacids and glutamine, and I hope they do something good.
Will they? I'd better do my part.
This is the go. At the flake again, I almost forget to match, and that's not a good sign, because my mind is not focused, and so my body cannot be either. I kick, I cut loose and I don't hold the swing. It's over. It's fucking over. I am fucking done.
Tom's friend brings the pads under his project, and I start packing my stuff. Tomorrow it will be soaked by humidity, and the tissues won't do. It's over. I could have done it, but it didn't happen. I gave my whole self and it wasn't enough.
No.
I am packing my stuff only because I know that I will remain here until I have climbed the problem, and I don't want to lose my stuff in the dark. I have all the time in the world.
I am there again, at the starting hold. Nice and smooth. I do the first move and I feel a particular pressure on my right foot, unlike previous tries. I think "This will make all the difference". I get the right hand pocket and its lip feels grainy and sticky, and this makes me strong. I get the flake, I flag, I match and I kick. I cut loose. It shouldn't happen. It shouldn't have happened. While I swing out, not arguing with gravity, much more exchanging fists with her, I feel the indecision, the uncertainity of the future in my whole body: when this chaos will be over, will I still be on here, or on the ground?
Here.
Left foot in the pocket, right foot in the smear, dyno out right. There. Thumb on. Heel hook and shake out, because I am so strong. I get the good hold, "remember all the one armers you've done" and I let go of the flake with the left hand. I stop the swing on the rail and I reach out and high, then I engage auto pilot and pull through and I am on the finishing hold. I only have to tap the back of my hand to complete the problem.
And I can't. And I FUCKING CAN'T. The rail was dripping and my left hand got soaked. I am sliding off the hold, I cannot match and I cannot finish the problem. What should I do? Jump down and take the tick? Try to adjust my right toe? Get a heel in? I don't know and anyway I can't do it. I just do not let go. Everyone is screaming at me, I say "Spot me well" to I don't know who, I just hear shouts from all around, I try to raise my body, I push with my right foot and squeeze something with my left, finding some sort of friction in a toe hook. Chaos. Shouts. Grease. Fatigue. Pride. Honour. Will. Delusion. Frustration. Sweat. Everything condensates here and now, in this fractions of a second during which I somehow tap the back of my left hand with my right and come down.
I scream, everyone screams, and the echoes get lost in the sea.
I hug my friends, I yell and the world is a perfect place. I take out the flask and down goes my 15 years old Laphroaig.
I have done "Rock Atrocity" and I am God.

YOU GOTTA FIGHT FOR YOUR RIGHT TO PARTY

2011-03-22T09:26:00.013+01:00

In the pics here, a few moves from the extension. I think they show how physical it gets: long moves, body tension, perfect problem.

On another note, you gotta fight for your right to climb.
I know people who can dedicate all the time they want to climbing. Sincerely, I don't envy them. I've never been able to do so, I have always had to struggle to fit my climbing into my life: it could be university (not that much but still...), it could be partying (a fucking lot of it...), it could be girls (never enough of that...), the fact is that I have always fought for my climbing.
This is very good, and I'll tell you why: because it strengthens your will, not only your muscles, and with a stronger will you also climb harder problems, because the struggle is just the same. The other day, speaking with a good friend, he said he wouldn't drive 4 hours to go to Ticino for the weekend, it's too long a drive for just two climbing days. Result: missed opportunities to climb. You don't move unless you have longer vacations, and that happens more seldom than every weekend.
Some people I know would not even drive one hour on their own to go to the crag. That's unreal for me. I don't care, I just want to do the business.
Moreover, struggling to get some climbing, prepares you to... struggle to get some climbing. If you can't dedicate anymore all your time to climbing, as soon as the first difficulties will appear, you won't be prepared. I've seen this happen so many times: you are unable to fit small bits of climbing into your schedule, you are unable to train while short on time, or tired, you get basically lazy, because everything gets... harder.
Well, I like when things get harder. Harder, mind, not impossible. Hard is good. When I do a problem, if it's not a project, I want to do it as hard as I can: if I use it for training, I want the hardest beta I can manage. But back on topic.
It's all to easy to get to the crag when you've trained for 4 months without a single other concern in your life, when you have eaten well, slept a lot, and you don't have issues moving around and making noise in your head, like the rent, the bills, the girl, the stuff that makes our lives what they are.
The trick is learning to do the deed when poorly rested because of work, or after an argument or a bad day. Why is this so important? Because it broadens the chances to get some climbing, obviously.
This doesn't mean that I couldn't do with a full time climbing life: of fucking yes I could. Simply, I don't want to get soft. I want to get old and still be cranking. I don't want to stop climbing at the first difficulties, I don't want to become another Stuart Cameron. I don't blame him and I don't judge him, nor all the others that simply decide to quit, to "knock it on the head" as he puts in an old interview. Simply, I don't want to do it.
Why? Because I love climbing.
Because after a climbing day in which I have given my best, regardless of success or failure, I feel complete and fullfilled for at least a minute, before diving into the struggle again.
But that minute is worth a thousand years.

YOU REAP WHAT YOU SOW

2011-03-15T15:27:00.004+01:00

In the pic, my forearms crying for help and oxygen. I don't look happy, do I?

This project is going to drive me mad, and to make me sweat blood.
I don't know why, but it seems like I'm unable to avoid getting into troubles. Years ago, after doing the deed with "Out of Service", with the effort it required, I had nothing better to do than adding a sit start to it. Weeks and weeks of toil, tears and frustration, with the final happy ending at last.
On established problems, I always want to add more moves or climb harder variations: it's happened many times, and it keeps happening. Not every time it's as smooth and straightforward as when I did the "Roof Direct" with the original lower start.
That very same day, january the 3rd, I conceived my actual nightmare.
It's been a strange session, my last one, on that thing. 5th session, and I finally climbed the extension start in one bit. In the morning, despite not feeling very sparky, I thought that now it's time to pull the finger out, and to seriously embark in trying to climb it, rather than trying to try it. So from now on, every go will be a redpoint go. I have to suss out a few question marks, that may sound trivial, but to me they are not: first one, given the current state of my climbing shoes, I have to figure out which model will do the job best. Solutions have a better heel, but they are less sensitive and precise on the toes than Jet7's, whose toes, now, are pretty worn out and a bit rounded out. The Wild Climb have taken me on top of the "old" problem already, so maybe it's another option. Then, on the micro-beta subject, I still have to decide one last crucial foot placement for the final, precarious and tricky move, the dyno to the jug. Before doing this, I want to try another different sequence, going to the jug left hand, not right hand, and see what it feels like. I don't know which one will feel harder, after 15 moves in a roof: a low percentage dyno or a powerful lock off?
And so here we are to the main issue: am I crazy to get me into a 15+ moves marathon? I've been there before, with "OOS Sit Start", but the hardest move of that problem is the average move on this one...
To solve this problem, I have gotten into some PE training, going to the gym and alternating power sessions and PE sessions. In these ones, I do laps on problems, climbing down to the starting holds and then starting again; or trying to repeat harder problems at the end of the session. It's horrible and it makes me want to puke. On power sessions, I redpoint the hardest problems, or I repeat others with my weightvest on, with 4 kilos.
Yesterday I did something new on the Beast: instead of the usual deadhanging session, I did 1 minute hangs on the 20° and on the big rungs, like this: 20 seconds hang, 5 pull ups, 20 seconds hang, 5 pull ups, for a total of 60 seconds. 4 sets on the 20°, 2 on the rungs, I nearly puked.
So, here I am.
Last saturday I climbed the easy part of the project, only to find myself at the start of the real difficulties with numb fingers, unable to keep going. It's been frustrating. I was going to go for it but simply couldn't, and it hurt me. It took forever to warm my fingers up again, and afterwards they were in pain for an hour. Another go saw me again getting the "starting" jug, but I came off the left toe hook and it was over.
I think higher temps could do the job here, as Martin says about his project.
I don't know why I couldn't feel really and deeply happy about this progress: from not doing the section to doing it twice in a session; something in my mind was not in the right mindset. Maybe wrong expectations or simply being not 100% in it, or maybe simply being disappointed for not playing the day professionally enough: I climbed too much before going to the roof, but I was with friends and that's what I felt I wanted to do, so I did it.
I ended the day repeating a few 7b's, so after all another "big volume" day for my standards.
It's on, it's really on.
It's time and I am a fool.

PICCOLO FOTTUTO BASTARDO

2011-03-07T20:35:00.002+01:00

In this small video, the problem I did last week. I think it's very cool.
On a side note, another trip under the roof saw me unable to link the extension bit in a oner, I keep falling on the move to join the start of the "normal" line of the roof direct.
Numbers keep spinning in my mind.

BACK TO REALITY

2011-03-01T14:04:00.014+01:00

More than a week has passed since my return. Luckily, or unluckily depending on your point of view, I didn't manage to get the week of complete rest that I had planned: after a long but interesting journey back (bus from Sheffield to London, chill out a few hours, overnight bus from London to Paris, spend the day in Paris, overnight train from Paris to Florence), I found blue skies and cool winds. After all, I had rested in the buses and train!
So, a quick trip to Amiata was the perfect wake up call, to remind me that I was back to my reality of familiar places and usual projects.
Recently I have been blessed by the unexpected: climbing very old projects or even adding the odd move to established problems; a few weeks before leaving for UK, I had tried to add a longer start to a problem I climbed a couple of years ago, that I called "Happy Days". These few moves (a match on a crimp and a lock off to the left) proved to be too hard for me at the moment, or the hold too painful for my skin, or the conditions too hot for both. I don't know why, but Thursday, when I gave it a go as the end of my warm up, I did the new moves three times over three tries, only to fall on easy ground at the end of the traverse before the arete, due to slipping off a flat foothold. On my third try, though, I found myself on top, having destroyed the moves and climbed what became "Piccolo Fottuto Bastardo". I'd be interested in some opinions about the grade. I think 7b+ could be it.
Obviously, after cheering my friends Filo, Mark and Giulio who had come there to meet me during their rest day, I went to the roof. Or under the roof, as I should say.
This was my project for this time of the season, and still is: despite my efforts, and clearly being in good climbing - if not physical - form, I still could not complete the new start. It's like that. I still haven't linked the full first part. Then I will have to do the Font 8a/+. Ah ah, that's brilliant innit? What a great project: 15 moves. Ten moves to get to the jug, then a five moves powerfest. Fantastic.
I am trying to picture in my mind the difficulty of the first part, and what could be the overall grade of the link. Could it reach the number of numbers, the number of greatness? We will see.
Then, the weekend: it was baltic. Maybe too cold to even get good friction. Anyway I went to Sasso with a nice bunch of sport climbers on a bouldering trip, and had a great day, despite being unable to properly try my other project. A couple of nasty falls (I even managed to fall down a rock pulling one spotter down with me) meant that I wasn't confident enough to try the final dynamic moves to the lip; add to this that one of the top jugs literally fell apart while I was brushing it, it's easy to understant that this project will remain such for a while. The day was a good one though, I did a bit of volume on problems around the 7a/+ mark. I learnt that it's always good to wear top and bottom thermals, and that I didn't eat enough in the morning to ensure good power during the whole day despite some cookies and tea. Schoolboy error.
So after this long, excellent rock oriented period of the last few weeks, it's back to training for me. I wanted to take the pressure off somehow, but I discovered that I can't: I need to train and I want to train. So I will train.
I still have to develop a right plan to climb the project, in terms of specific training: I still don't know whether it will be best to focus on Power Endurance or, as usual, on pure power. I will need both for sure. A meeting with The Guru should solve my doubts.
Finally, I started training in the morning, on the busy days, before going to work. I am alone at home in Florence, so I can do whatever I want whenever I want, and that's brilliant. I'm not a morning guy, at least not always. Sometimes, in the weekends, when I could have a lie in, I find myself fully loaded at 7,30 am, ready to pull on some grippy rocks; needless to say, when the alarm goes off at 8 am during work days, I can't find the energy to get out of bed, if not in my coffee bucket.
Anyway, this morning, not without difficulty, I managed to fit a Beastmaker session before work. It's great. Despite being a harsh way to wake up your mind and body, it puts you in the correct mood for the rest of the day: the motherfucker's mood.
After almost a month off the magic board, I haven't lost much. Climbing is a great training for fingerboarding after all. The biggest issue was skin: my skin now is perfect for climbing on rock, tough and dry. I dryfired off the slopey pockets twice today, landing perfectly on my knees. Ouch.
Another thing that I learned, is that I have been sandbagged big way by the Beastmaker guys. I think my board is the toughest I have ever tried: every other one I have used felt soft in comparison, and I have tested a few now. It's a well known phenomenon, soft and hard fingerboards of the same type: it's in the website as well. Anyway today I didn't feel bad at all: some kinds of grips felt strangely solid, like the front3 full crimp, and even the slopey pockets full crimp. The 45° are still desperate. I managed over 30 seconds on the 45° at the Depot Gym in Liverpool... maybe they need a new laser level?
But at night, when I am in bed, I don't think to those seconds during which gravity seemed suspended; I still dream about the rocks I touch and climb.
Those >30 seconds felt pretty damn good though!

FOOD... FOR THOUGHTS?

2011-02-23T14:44:00.002+01:00

To be honest, I don't know where to start from; I don't know what to tell, I don't even know what I want to tell.
Not a single night has passed, in which I haven't fallen asleep reliving the feeling of the rock under my skin, the pressure of a hold, the addicting sensasion of sticking a move and feeling solid and in control. From the very first day, each night I had something to dream about, and every day brought more.
This has been a very successful trip for me. Of course it's no P-Rob ticklist, it's my ticklist, but I feel it's a good ticklist for an old fart.
I am sure it will take me more than just one post to go through the many, infinite moments that made this trip special.
One can see something and think it's beautiful; then he starts thinking that he wants to be closer to that beautiful thing; then he starts dreaming about that thing, and finally he wants to make that thing his thing also, at least for a brief moment. Few times in my life I experienced what I did experience when my right hand fell onto the good hold of "Brad Pit". Matching it, and exiting the problem, unlike many other times, I didn't feel like letting go my traditional almighty roar. This time, instead, I felt something surging inside my chest, that tightened my stomach and made my eyes wet. Commotion for a boulder problem? Apparently yes. I don't know why, but that's what happened. The previous day I wanted to quit climbing - seriously, I even phoned my girlfriend to tell her - the following day all the pressure was gone, and all I was having from the climbing was joy and fullfillment.
The key should be being able to find that same joy and that same fullfillment just in the simple act of climbing something, not a particular problem, but this is not possible. It would be like trying to fall in love with any girl. Doing something unexpected brings joy, one kind of joy that I also experienced in this trip, during my second week, when I climbed some problems that weren't in my dream list; but before, in the first week, all I wanted was to bear the pressure that I had put myself under: dreaming to climb some specific problems, and building a trip around these targets, was a great risk. Just as one day before I wanted to throw the proverbial towel, now I could be here, writing that the weather had been poor and stopped me from ticking my projects; or simply that I hadn't been good enough to climb them, therefore quitting.
I could be, but I am not. For some reason, that I don't know precisely, things worked out; they clicked. The pressure, released, morphed into some special fuel that propelled me up a few other problems, desired or simply found along the way.
I haven't tried everything I wanted, and obviously I haven't climbed everything I tried, but I feel accomplished.
Everything has been on the razor edge of uncertainity: I was sure I could do certain moves or problems, while I was sure I was going to struggle on others, and at moments I have also been unsure about the result. As happened before, I am pondering what would have been my reactions, had I not climbed something that I felt worth. Again, looking back, all the many times that this has happened, that I have been confronted by failure, after the initial dismay and sadness, I have always worked my way back up to the erect position, and as soon as I had something back, I have always put it on the table again. The chase is better than the catch? No, at least not always. As I've said many times, it's a matter of dedication. It all becomes worthwile when it costs us time, effort, and dedication. I could have spent my holiday climbing dozens of easy problems, but I chose to play it differently, because that's like me. Have I been lucky? Yes and no. Lucky in having some days of good weather. But I don't remember one single move, in the problems I did, that I stuck because of luck. I stuck the moves because I am a motherfucker. Because I spent double digit minutes hanging from the Beastmaker alone in my living room; because I spent hours setting and trying my own problems in the gym; because I spent ages driving to the rocks, to maintain the "feel" for the real thing, the addiction to the move, the desire to finish a line. Because, after all, it's all just an enormous, continuous exercise of testing our will. "Warren Harding is not coming down" writes "Largo" in his book. I am not going down, and if I do, I'll cry, I'll swear, I'll find all the excuses I can, I'll blame everyone else, myself, and everything that I feel was against me. But then at some point I'll want to see again a man in me, and I'll go back up again.

TALES FROM THE (NETHER) EDGE

2011-02-10T15:51:00.005+01:00

Typing from a couch in Sheffield, in the living room of someone you've met only hours ago for the first time in your life, gives much food for thoughts.

First of all: why is everyone here so kind? Do they want my money? I hope for them they don't 'cos I have none.

Looking back - a thing that comes natural to me - maybe I can find some answers to similar questions: what made me invite Tom and Rich down to Italy? Why did I open my house to Keith, to Marc (back in tha day, innit?) and to others in times long past? I don't know, but at the moment it seemed the right thing to do. Because it was the right thing to do. Because it made me feel good and happy. So I reckon it's just this that ties us together and make people let a stinky Italian climber into their houses.

I feel sorry.

I wish I was a better and stronger climber, to reward all these people with the best gift: hard and epic sends. Sadly I'm just an average punter, so no flash on "Brad Pit" for me. No tick yet, also. I haven't climbed "Low Rider" in a matter of tries, despite wanting to do it, and I haven't soloed any great, spectacular, stunning, jaw-dropping arete.

I can't payback what I'm receiving here. Because, bear it in mind, I am receiving a whole lotta love.

It's becoming hard to collect thoughts. I lie in bed at night - for 40 seconds before falling asleep for nine or ten hours straight - and I picture and feel the moves of the problems I want to do. Some of them, I want to do since the day I started. I found myself on top of "Zippy's Traverse" at Plantation, the other day, third try. I saw Rich at "Green Traverse" and he smiled at me, while a guy climbing on a nearby boulder said "Well done mate!". I live for these moments. They form part of a heritage of feelings that keeps me together. Because I shared them with others.

So, before becoming pedantic and redundant - another trademark of mine - I want to tell you how happy I am, despite being unable to fully understand what I'm doing here and living here. It'll take time.

For the moment, I put everything I have into every single move, trying to give something back to those who are around me. I need them. I need company. I don't mind to drive, and walk, and climb, and walk back, and drive back on my own, if that's what I'm required to, for getting a climb done. But I am a social animal, and an animal tout court: I may hunt alone, but when I hunt with others I am happier and stronger.

So, while awaiting for amazing performances and tales, to entertain you all, for the moment you have to be satisfied with the one armers I pulled on "Brad Pit" starting hold.

That's my way of saying "Thank you, this is the best!".

ON HOW TO SAVE A CLIMBING DAY AND TICK A TEN YEARS OLD PROJECT

2011-01-29T18:30:00.006+01:00

Last Sunday, while driving towards Amiata, at some point I started noticing snow at the side of the roads, then some more, then even some more. When I arrived closer, there was half a meter of snow blocking the roads. At that very moment I thought that they day before, when I had phoned a friend who lives there to get some first hand informations about the snow, and when he had told me that there was half a meter of snow blocking the roads, probably some crucial part of that communication must have gone lost.
A quick phone call to the restaurant in Sassofortino made me know that there wasn't snow there, and down went the gas pedal. To be honest, there was some snow on the boulders, making the top outs impossible, but in a small range of five minutes walking, I had plenty of problems to throw myself at. I had done them all already, but some mileage on moderate 7's is always welcome to save a climbing day. It was sunny and freezing, and also very beautiful.
After a while I decided to have a go at an old problem opened by Keith during his visit here many years ago: "Giorni Scuri". I had done it with Keith, and haven't tried it again ever since, so I was very happy to repeat it quickly. Memories invaded my mind, filling it with images of a long lost period of freedom and irresponsibility; everything has changed now, and my approach to bouldering is less naive, less spontaneous and somehow less punterish. Then Nicco and Cristiano arrived, they warmed up and we started climbing together, with spirits super high. Nicco managed to also repeat Keith's problem, and to my surprise I finally freed an old project, ten years old to be honest, that I had cleaned ages ago with a German friend of mine. Clearly that small boulder has a feeling for foreign climbers! This nasty sequence is the left hand start to "Giorni Scuri", and packs in a few strong moves, very open and with an abs-wrenching heel hook. This problem was named "Commandos Tigre" and I am very happy to have done it. Time passes, and I am still here, progressing.
Some pics from my phone: Sasso in the snow.

Nicco repeating "Giorni Scuri".

IMAGES AND REFLECTIONS

2011-01-17T15:18:00.004+01:00

These are the images: the first move and the dyno of "Mind the Gap Sitstart"; the lower moves of "Islero". Yesterday I retroflashed the first one but wasn't able to repeat the second. Good.

Now the reflections.
The thought of going to "Amber" on a single day trip, with an idea that wasn't just finding it, that is the idea of actually climbing the problem, was one of the fooliest thoughts I've ever had.
Simply, Font 8b is not my league. This doesn't mean that I won't climb that particular grade, it simply means that I have to try many, many different problems of that grade, until I find one that is particularly suited for me. The classic problem with my name on it. I just can't choose one problem because it's beautiful or because I won't need a spotter. I have to search and search.
I considered my "Amber Saga" an epic failure, in terms of the climbing itself, just because I didn't climb the problem. Reality is that it's just absolutely normal. But I am so stupid that I almost - almost - gave up on the idea of Font 8b, after that. It took my friend Filo's good sense to make me understand how much out of reality I was: he asked me "How many problems of that grade have you tried?" and I replied "One". He asked again "For how long?" and I replied "30 minutes". And it all became clear. I was out of reality, thinking that it was going to be possible that way. No, it will involve much more tears and toil than just driving 1000 kms and wandering in the snow for a few hours. That would have been simple.
So, the quest is on.

Then, the actual climbing. I feel good. I am still glowing in the bright light of triumph, that triumph that marked the beginning of the year, my glorious day at Chiesina. What a day. Perfect. There are not many days like that one in a year: the form, the conditions, the mind, the idea. I am glad I spent it there.
What I did in reality is not much. Just two moves. Naturellemont, these two small moves, just as the butterfly of the Chaos Theory, spun out enormous consequences.
Driving to the boulders, in that perfect light, I found myself wondering which was the best way to spend the day: after all, I had already done everything I wanted to, and the project that is still there, is far beyond my chances, for many reasons. Suddenly, clear as the sky, the idea appeared: I am going to repeat the roof direct, adding the first two moves (they had been skipped by the first ascensionist, who didn't like that crouched start). Boom.
The first ascent was made starting from the ramp, with three easy moves to the jug that marks the start of the difficulties. All subsequent ascents, to my knowledge, had been done starting from the jug itself, avoiding the greasy ramp. But the first two moves remained intact.
So, as you see, nothing special. Two "easy" moves into three easy moves. But it's not the moves, it's the form. In my mind, I took it back. Like a long lost son.

Finally, to make that day even more perfect, I conceived a new project.There's a hard line somewhere, and a possible different start. An eliminate for sure, given that I decided to ban a really good feature that would be perfect for the feet, but I don't care. The moves are great. The full problem will gain 5-6 moves, going up to 15-16 moves. Power endurance, innit? More power than endurance: yesterday I had my third session there, and I still haven't climbed the new start in a oner!!!

Sometimes I get a bit bored by all the difficulties of climbing: the spare time, the driving, the solitude. Now I know: a bored boulderer is a boulderer with no fantasy. There's always a new move to imagine.

BUT...

2011-01-04T11:20:00.004+01:00

It's so difficult to try and give the idea of the chaos that's in my mind. Once again I had a real emotional rollercoaster during the holidays, and once again I had the confirmation of how deeply and strongly climbing dominates my life. Plagued by bad weather, the last two weeks had been a struggle, that led me to drive more than one hour just to go to the gym, and this twice a week. Obsessed by the lack of other training facilities, when the gym was closed I simply couldn't help but mount back up my old fingerboard that I had at the sea years ago. Just a couple of sessions on it reminded me why the Beastmaker is the best fingerboard in the world.
Naturally, this tension didn't do any good to my relationship.
In my thoughts, I was growing weaker and weaker by the minute.
Then, moreover, I couldn't make up my mind about my Cresciano trip, that evolved from a 10 days stay, to a 5 days one, to 4, to 2, to nothing.
I got a phone call from work on Sunday night, and I am already back at school.
But...
There's always a "but".
But yesterday I went climbing, with the bluest sky ever seen and the hottest January sun. And it's been magic, to soak up all this beauty all alone as ever.
I fucking crushed.
KEEP THE FUCKING FAITH.

HAPPY NEW YEAR BEASTS!

2010-12-31T17:19:00.002+01:00

I will be brief. Today I went to one of the small bouldering areas at Amiata, and ticked the crag, bar one problem that at the end of the session was far too painful for my baby fingers, just used to the smoothness of my Beastmaker or the occasional plastic feelings.

It's been so good. Despite the warm, humid climate, it's been very very good. Not for one single instant I desired to be somewhere else, or doing something else.

This is me.

I have so much to tell you my friends, but now there's only time to wish you all the best and only the best for 2011.

You know me, you know who I mean: I miss you my friends, a whole fucking lot.

It's time.

IT'S ALL BEEN SAID AND DONE

2010-12-24T15:33:00.006+01:00

Today, with the rain hitting the windows and my body worked from yesterday's session at Area51, the new wall that opened at the sea, minutes away from Tartana in the summer, and Sox Club in the winter, seemed like a perfect day to say something worth reading here.
Then, I don't know why, some old reminiscence from my high school studies came to my mind, and I realized that the best thing to do is to simply point you at a couple of classics for you enjoy.

Fragment 58 from Alcmane, the so called "Nocturnal":

"They sleep, the mountain crags and gullies,
headlands and brooks, and the whole race
of footed creatures and black earth pulls from
mountain beasts and the republic of bees,
and vast fish looming in hollows
of purple sea: they sleep,
too, birds with wide, cloud-tipped wings..."

Sappho, fragment 182:

"I have a beautiful child who looks like golden flowers, my darling Cleis, for whom I would not take all Lydia or lovely..."

Alcaeus of Mytilene:

"Now we must get drunk and drink whether we want to or not. Myrsilus is dead."

It's all been said and done.

THE TRUE BEAST OF THE FAMILY

2010-12-10T16:13:00.002+01:00

QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS.

2010-11-28T09:25:00.003+01:00

Am I a bad motherfucker? Maybe.
Am I a complete fool? Fo' sho'.
Why?
Because friday night I drove five hours on my own to go to Brione and try "Amber"; because saturday, midway in the valley, it was already -6°; because I wandered in the snow for two and half hours to find that little motherfucker of a problem; because the bottom of my trousers froze; because in putting on a shoe, my skin was so cold that I ripped a 2x2 cm hole in my right heel; and finally because I failed on the problem in the most spectacular way. To really give the idea of how epically I failed, one single language is not enough: I should use all the four languages I know, to give you all a pale idea of my failure, but now don't have enough time. In a few weeks I wil start a Chinese language course, maybe a fifth language will help.
And you know what? I don't fucking care. It's been great.
I have learnt so much from this story, but now I don't want to tell anything more. I just want to glow in the blinding light of my failure.

ISSUES

2010-11-21T15:42:00.002+01:00

Rant alert.
I've got mixed feelings about climbing and climbers as of late. I'm losing interest for most things related to climbing, and when I happen to read something, it pisses me off.
One of the things that makes me furious, is the hypocrisy that permeates the climbing environment, especially at the high levels of those who are the hot shots of the moment. When the shit hits the fan, the shit is often provided by climbers, but the fan is often provided by 8a.idiots.nu. I hate them, sad, poor people who try to cause a stir between climbers whenever they can, I can't think about sadder people.
The hypocrisy I talk about, often involves grading. I hate how those who declare to care the less about grades, in reality show their obsession about grades.
I hate the way they try to make grades universal, the way they try to get a general consensus: in this, they show the desire to incapsulate climbing into precise boundaries and classifications, and I hate them both.
In nature, there is nothing such a rock climb, or a boulder problem, or a marble statue: there is only rock, boulders, and marble. The climb, the problem and the statue are just human creations. So, there are no grades in themselves, there are only climbers, and each climber is an individual who can only experience one experience at a time, therefore, even inside each climber's experience, everything is subjective.
One thing that almost makes me want to get hold of an axe and start swinging it around, is their cry: "ohhh, my god, where will our sport go, with this foolish grading inflation?". Fucking idiots. They should thank their god or who the fuck they believe in, because they are talented and can go around and just climb the whole time. "ohhh, my god where is our fucking WORLD going?" should be the only question for each one of us.
In his book "I Promessi Sposi", Alessandro Manzoni uses the metaphor of two cocks that are tied together and are being brought to the market to be sold, killed and cooked, and still they fight and they hurt each other. This is what I see happening now: individuals that try to prevail on each other, despite having no future in the long run. Climbing is one of the most individualistic activities a man can perform. A man is always alone on the wall, even when roped up: I like to use the image of the tail gunner on the old IIWW bombers. Unluckily, this individualism, can team, sometimes, with selfishness and egotism. Fair enough. But for fucks sake, man up and take the courage to show your true nature.
You think you're the strongest? Well, do like Jerry and tell it to everyone. He had the balls and that's why he'll be always remembered as one of the great ones.
But not many ones want to show some meat, so they adopt this false modest attitude and they say: "ohh, I can't climb that grade that fast, so it must be alot easier". Fuck off. Man up and take the courage to say "I destroyed that shit, that's why it's soft".
I hate this yoga-driven, hugs and kisses, xmas feelings filled climbing.
You think that grade is soft? Who the fuck cares. You think an entire area is under-graded? Who the fuck cares. You are pissed because by calling a 7c 8b+ someone got a sponsorship? Who the fuck cares. Did he steal that from you? Who the fuck cares. Didn't he? Even better, who the fuck cares.
You can either: shut the fuck up and keep it to yourself (always the best idead); or take the courage to be honest.
One thing is for sure. If I were one of the strong ones, I'd be the baddest motherfucker around. I'd make kids cry and climbers go away. Then I'd crush the hardest thing around and fucking leave. Why? because it'd be fun.

BIG NUMBERS!

2010-11-16T11:37:00.004+01:00

I must have eaten well yesterday, because despite working alot as usual as of late (I had been told that as a teacher you'd work little and climb much... Andrea you bastard!), I had an excellent Beastmaker session with some PB's.
I hadn't climbed on Sunday, as said I just started fixing the landing on the project, and knowing that I would not climb today, I decided to go for a little bit of power AND volume: pull ups, that is.
I did my routine of 5 pull ups in 10 seconds for 6 sets for each hold type. I did the first three sets with my legs in an L-seat, to give my belly a good beasting.
Then I started working my way through the harder holds, and with some surprise I found myself completing all the pull ups on holds I previously found very hard, like the back 2 and the mid 2 on the small pockets. I also completed again all the hangs on the small monos, and started working them on index fingers also.
I finished the session (and my muscle fibers) with a generous set on the small rungs: 10 seconds hang back 3 immediately followed by 5 pull ups with a normal 4 fingers half crimp.
By the end of that last set my forearms were sweating lactic acid and I was the strongest man on Earth (in my mind), with a total of 240 pull ups. Not much, if compared to the true monsters, but hey, you have to start somewhere.
So I'm happy, especially for the back 2, but also for the volume, which, on the moment, I handled quite well; now, though, I feel the bastard evil monsters called DOMS creep up my back and arms. Aminoacid pills and some huge sandwiches should address them right, waiting for dinner.
Now I will start splitting these sessions into pulling sessions and hanging sessions: this way I should be able to start working other grip types without having to take a day off from work to have the necessary time. Yesterday it all took more than two hours.
The future will see adding some weights to both my Beast sessions and on the wall, because I bought a weight vest (thanks to Paul's suggestions); then I will start doing maximal hangs, two armed, on the holds I find the hardest to manage, like small monos (middle and index fingers), 45°, slopey pockets front 2, small rungs back 3 and front 3.
This should keep me busy for a while. The sky's the limit, and the aim is to tick my first Font 8b ON THE BEASTMAKER, following the Beasts' charts (I accept suggestions for short, 2/3 moves routines of that overall grade to be done footless - and yes, I am DEAD SERIOUS and also completely nuts).
So now I have some good sessions quite refined: volume sessions, two armed maximal hangs sessions and one armed maximal hangs sessions. It feels as some kind of training porn.
What else? Oh, yes, these next weeks should see the birth of the first hard core, old school wall in town: courtesy of fellow crusher, one arm 90° lock off record holder (55 seconds, blimey!) Cristiano, "The Wailing Wall" is nearly there, in his garage.
This will bring new psyche and power, beyond the imaginable. According to Jerrys's suggestions and inspiration, we chose the holds so that "for the first month we must not be able to link more than one move". The plan is to complete the first problem five months from now.
And that's entertainment.

PREPARATION

2010-11-14T16:46:00.003+01:00

"Success is no accident" you may have read somewhere (I hope you did).
Today, after thinking about it and talking about it far too much, I finally pulled the proverbial finger out, and with fellow crusher Nicco I went to Sasso, just to start building a decent landing under the infamous overhang project.
This is a stellar line, found many years ago, when the idea of the perfect bouldering day was still to climb as many problems as possible. Another era.
Now the idea is to climb the hardest problems. This is one of those. The breakage of a crucial hold moved the grade up that little bit that can make all the difference.
Unluckily it has, or should I say "it had", a terrible landing of jagged rocks. One of these little bastards, together with my idiocy, manged to snap my right ankle two weeks ago, and I wasn't even climbing... Today I tried to beast that small rock into submission only to find out that it's a very big rock whose top only is visible. Despite managing to shift it a little bit I wasn't able to turn it on its flat side, so I decided to fill it all around with logs: one must know when to change his mind.
Then we patioed most of the rest of the landing, and we reckon that with another visit it will be done.
So, after fixing the landing, I will start working the problem and then I will do it. As simple as it gets.
Is this interesting to read? No, but it's important. Ciao.

BACK TO THE FUTURE

2010-11-07T12:54:00.002+01:00

Time stopped and then started going backwards. From the 21st century I find myself catapulted back into the early '90s again.
At the time, all I could do to move up in the sport climbing scale, was to hang and pull small bits of wood in my parents' house cellar, surrounded by spiderwebs covering old and precious wine bottles, while listening to heavy metal audio tapes.
On friday, when at the phone with my climbing friends to arrange the weekend, each one of us would ask the others the same question: "did you train this week?" and each one of us, each time, would give the same answer: "not at all. I was too busy.".
The following day, you could see people lock down small crimps to the hips with a huge grin.
This went on for 8 years. 8 years of fingerboarding in a cellar. Then came the campus board, and it felt like having the greatest training facility in the world. Then, three years ago, I finally knew what's like to have a climbing wall in your own town, when I moved to Florence.
Now I am back to 1993.
The wall is no longer there and what is available for the moment is not enough to satisfy my Wille Zur Macht. Slightly overhanging walls with big holds are NOT the way forward.
So it's back to the future for me: back to the fingerboard to get to the future of my climbing. And I fucking love it. I really do love this shit. The harder it gets to move forward, the harder I push, the stronger I get, both physically and mentally. The more I put into it, the more I get back. So, each one of you, please, take a look into yourselves, see your future and do everything you can to get there. You'll love it.

BEAST MAKING!

2010-10-19T16:01:00.003+02:00

Years ago, during a dinner with climbing friends, I said that "some training session have given me more pleasure than some fucks". It's not a phrase I'm particularly proud of; for sure I'm very proud of the session in which I did this.

35 degrees from lorenzo frusteri on Vimeo.

THE ACTION

2010-10-11T20:06:00.003+02:00

Yesterday I went to Amiata new sector, where I climbed "Islero sit start". I had a plan, and that was the result.
It's been no gimmie. I was sure I was going to do it, but I must admit that at times doubt creeped into my fragile mind.
I also made a few schoolboy errors. I decided to warm up on easy problems, and that's what I did, but that warm up turned to be many problems long. I also managed to get me a microscopic but incredibly deep slice in my right ring finger; the idea of having to tape it up wasn't very appealing, given that "Islero" only offers slopers to be compressed, but I had to. Then, somehow in Chironico I managed to lose both my brushes, and I didn't have my brush stick. My friend neither, so I didn't know how to brush the holds from the patina of humidity first, and from the excess chalk later. I resolved firstly to brush them using a chestnut shell but it proved to be painful, so I used my metal brushes with all the needed delicacy. I can be delicate at times.
Anyway, it was time. I had the sequence in my mind, and I executed. I felt strong on all the moves up to the last tricky move, where I missed the hold and fell. Then I fell again on the following try, but on the fucking second move. I had gone from almost doing the problem first go, to being unable to stick two moves in a row. "This shit is hard!" I thought.
In just two goes the problem had take its toll out of me. I tried again the second move and was able to do it in isolation, but not on every go. Shocking. Doubts. Fear. I wanted to get it done on that session.
I found out a slightly different option for my left foot, and there I went again. And again I fell on the high move of the first try. "This shit is definitely hard".
This move is a bit precarious: you have a good hold on the arete for your right hand, and a decent pinch for the left hand; you have a left drop knee, right foot on a bad foothold, and you have to bump again your left hand to a higher pinch, but you have to get into it, precisely, you can't overshoot and fall onto it.
I decided to see if I could skip this tricky move, moving out from a hold that is easily 20 cm below with a harder but less tricky move. It worked. It was on, but the phantom of the second move was hanging around.
I set off, and the moves started coming. I flew past the second move not without a serious effort, and I found myself at the higher part; I had my new sequence and despite feeling a bit of grease on a hold (I can't even recall which one), I kept going and found myself with my right hand on the jug. I matched, and then I decided to cut loose: for a nanosecond I though about the possibility of falling off, but when I realized my though I was already good on the jug, and at that moment, I don't know why instead of heelhooking again on the arete with my right foot, I just campused to the final jugs and toped out.
My friend told me that when I held the (minimal, to be honest) swing, a huge smile appeared on my face, and I believe him.
I let go a scream of joy and a horrible swear, then I got down. It was done. I had a plan and I had stuck to it.
On the way home, we found a terrible queue to get into Florence, so I got a bit angry on the phone with the girl, and she told me "Hey don't spoil your great day, think about the problem!" and time passed easily while I was reliving those moments.
Minutes later, I saw a beautiful girl at the wheel of a car to our right in the queue. I smiled at her when we moved forward, and when they caught us I was surprised to see her smile back to me. So this nice flirt went on for a few times as we moved forward and then she followed, until we got to the motorway and she disappeared. It's been very very nice.
Today I stuck to the second part of the plan, with a good Beastmaker session on one armed dead hangs.
KEEEP THAT FUCKING FAITH.

THE PLAN

2010-10-10T09:28:00.002+02:00

My friend is once again late, so maybe I can use this spare time to collect a few thoughts.
I have a plan.
Today I go to Amiata new sector, where I climb "Islero sit start".
Tomorrow I will leave everything else in terms of climbing behind, and I will only be thinking, breathing, eating, dreaming my two projects.
I think this is the first time I speak so openly about them, and somehow it's liberating. The fact that my projects could be a strong climber's warmup is of no importance: those are projects for me, so I have to prepare for them as they require. The other fact, that I no longer have a wall to train and climb at, is again of no importance: I will do the best that I can with what I have, and that must do. How can I tell? It's very simple: because I will keep doing it until it will do.
I have a bouldering project, which is climbing Font 8b.
And for the first time in a decade, I have a sport climbing project, which is climbing an 8c.
These two dreams will come into reality under the gentle forms of "Amber" in Brione, and "Sanjski Par" in Misja Pec.
There are many reasons for my choice of these two fine pieces of climbing. For "Amber", it's because it's beautiful, and although maybe a bit complex on the logistics, it's perfect for me because I can climb it on my own, without having to search for a spotter, a thing that I require very often and for sure I will need for my other projects that are close to where I live. It may sound as a paradox, but it's easier for me to drive 400 kms on my own only to go and do "Amber", than to find two spotters for a boulder that is one hour away. I know there are friends who would come, but climbing Font 8b will be hard on its own, I don't need the extra pressure of always finding a partner.
Then, "Sanjski Par". Another project that is hours and hours away. I don't care. I spent one of my best climbing weekends there with Tadej this past winter, and I just fell in love with the route. It's everything I search in a route: short, powerful, low to the ground and historical.
Now it's time. Oh yeah it's time.

FRIENDS WHO HELP

2010-10-09T09:57:00.003+02:00

Thanks to Toni from Toscoclimb, my shoe fetish has just been renewed and feeded.

PICS FROM SWIZZY

2010-10-03T11:52:00.002+02:00

Satisfaction at the end of the weekend.

Testing testing 1,2,3...

A new problem on "Souvenir" boulder.

"Souvenir". I decided to skip the mono, a move far too precarious for a problem so far away from home. Hold the sloper and dyno to the jug, it will be.

An excellent 7a and an excellent pic from Fede.Filo spotting.

So, Chironico came and went. My strongest memory is a deep feeling of happiness, for sharing perfect boulders and good times with some very good friends, after too long. Just at the beginning of the first day, I immediately understood I wasn't going to be able to stick to a project: we were a buch of psyched beasts, and the desire to climb as much as possible was too strong even for me.
I didn't try anything for more than 5 minutes, despite feeling very strong especially the saturday morning, before skin loss and lactic acid made a strong couple. In hindsight I think I sould have tried "Komilator" because it was early morning and cool, and I fondled the holds and felt really really strong. It's all in the mind, so I think I could have followed the call. Anyway.
Everyone ticked for two days, with an impressively fast ascent of "Birds" from Filo. I got home smashed with a big bunch of 7's flashed. It's been good and relaxing to release the pressure of projects for once, and just enjoy the volume, which luckily always teamed with quality.
This pressure will come back for sure very soon, and I will be comfortable with it.
So after this trip I took four days off to recover skin and muscle fibers, and went back to the Beast for some quick recruitment.
It was a long time since the last time, especially the one arm dead hangs, so I was eager to test my strength loss.
Surprise surprise: I found strength gains. I held the 45° slopers three times, even if for just two or three seconds and with a slight nestle, but it's been a huge huge step forward. Then I managed to hang the back two pockets for what seemed an eternity, easily in the 30 seconds range. I held the 35° slopers one armed with some ease and also the small three finger pockets. The way is clearly this one.
I went on rock yesterday, in humid, terrible conditions, but again with good friends Mark and Bengio, pullers of Amiata rock. Spirits were high, fingers were strong and despite not being able to repeat the sitter of "Mind the Gap" (7c?), I beasted into submission the proper sitter to "Islero". The original problem started from a rock, because I wanted to get it done and because it's logical, but it's also logical not to sit on the rock and grab the lowest holds. At the end of the day, frustrated (nomen omen? surely not) from the other problem, I thought "let's try it" and magically did all the moves, quickly linking them from the sitter to the last third of the problem. Now I cant' wait to get back on it to give it full birth. "Islero" will become a perfect sitter and probably an easy 8a.
Next weekend I will go to Rome for "U2" in concert, then probably Amiata sunday for some bullfighting.

FRIENDS AND BULLS

2010-09-12T16:40:00.007+02:00

The lack of posts, as of late, is due to one simple fact. I had nothing interesting to say. With this, I don't want to say that everytime I post here I say something worth reading, but simply that I have something that it's interesting for me.

I have trained. That's as interesting as it is boring to read about.
I have sport climbed. That's interesting, because I enjoyed it alot again and also got good results, in terms of a nice 7c+ done second go.
Then I have trained more.
The reason I am posting now, is because, not finding a partner to go sport climbing today, I am here at home, reflecting over what happened yesterday.
Briefly, I climbed to new problems that I had spotted months ago. The first one is a powerful arete under a 50° overhang, that I called "Islero".

The other one is a cool eliminate traverse on slopey crimps that I called "Love and Peace da Isa B.".

I am sad I don't have video footage of "Islero" because it's one of the best problems I've ever done. The wind was blowing from NE, and despite the wood being humid, I couldn't complain about conditions. Success, once again, happened because of the presence of friend Giulio, who had already spotted me on "Tailgunner" in march, giving me the needed confidence to slap for the jug, with the rocks below menacing my ass in case of a miss.
It's hard to describe the happiness I felt after the ascent. I woke up knowing I was going to do it, but as usual when I actually tried the moves, reality kicked in. I kept the fucking faith and kept myself at it, and before I could reflect over it, it was done and I was screaming on top of the boulder. It's a drug. But much more powerful.
I named the problem after the 495 kilos Miura bull that killed Manolete, Spain's greatest torero of all time. With this name I don't want to celebrate the death of a man, but simply pay my respects to the huge display of power and agility that Islero was.

Still high from this much awaited success, I took my time to reflect, and to reap the reward for my dedication. A few sips of Bowmore 8 Years Old from the flask my girlfriend gave me a few weeks ago - just when I was thinking about buying one, shocking indeed - launched me instantly into the stratosphere. Then I packed and left.
Not much later I had done also the traverse, and all I could think about was the great day I had just had.
Those two problems may not be hard, but they meant something for me. The first time I tried the traverse I was shouting at every move. Yesterday I almost flashed it and did it second go, a perfect silent strike.
I realizied that, despite being at a deserted crag, I was not alone. My girlfriend was there, with the flask. My friend Andrea had given me the whisky for Xmas. I had my number 8 arm band from Tom and Rich, and in my mind "it tastes like victory" from Keith was resounding loudly.
I was on top. I was so fucking proud of myself. I gave everything I had in terms of commitment, and I got the prize.
The more I put into climbing, the more I get from it.

Now I could tell you about the routes I want to do, the route I wanted to be doing today, and the boulders that live in my mind and in my dreams. But I don't want to make this blog too interesting.

Oh yes, I've grown a beard.

SILENT STRIKE, LOUD THOUGHTS

2010-08-25T15:01:00.005+02:00

When one is not able to understand, I think the best solution is to pause, and to let things settle, before getting to wrong assumptions. I don't try to force myself into finding an answer, I don't push myself into a deep self-analysis: I let my feelings, rather than my brain, guide me.
As you know, I came back from the Dolomites with a mixture of satisfaction, surprise and emptyness. In my mind, I have a whole lot of quite obsessive thoughts, the main one being that the problem I have climbed cannot be 8a+. I don't know why I bother, but I simply think that I can't climb that grade that way, because it's bloody hard, and on that problem I didn't have such a hard time. I was alone, also, as I am when I train. I don't know anyone who's climbed the problem and the only other reference that I have is that James didn't flash it. This being alone, leaves a lot of room, in my mind, the mind of a man who's never sure about himself, for many doubts. Sometimes these doubts must leave room to facts: for instance, when I can hang a hold that a friend can't. I know I am not weak, but one thing is to hang a hold and a completely different thing is getting a problem done.
I say it again, I don't even understand why I bother. I think it could be that I don't want to be too happy for something that could be not worth it. Again, happiness is happiness and it's always worth it. I found the answer, this time, in thinking that that problem was something I liked, something I wanted to climb, and that I did it, while previously I couldn't. The grade should lose importance, under this perspective; sadly it does not. Grades are important for me because they are a measure of improvement: I am happy to add a rung to my campusing; I am happy to add 5 seconds to a deadhang; but I am far happier to climb a problem that everyone else find hard, or to jump up a grade in the Font scale.
In all this process of self questioning, suddenly something put me on the right path to make some progress into this labyrinth of my mind: in the last few days, I've been feeling completely spent, empty. The sense of satisfaction is still there, but emptyness is much more.
I must have done something really important and big for myself, if now I feel so empty, I could almost say depressed.
Again, this is a very incomplete answer. I think the only useful answer is to move on to the next goal. This time, maybe, it coud be smart to be ready to accept success. Because success is what I'll have.

THE DOLOMITES MAN

2010-08-23T13:25:00.005+02:00

The air was fresh and the sun was rising from behind the Piz Ciavazes mountain. The first rays of light cut the valley in slices, through the mist of the early morning. It was 7 am, we were already at the base of the route and my head was exploding. I could barely concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, my brain was a cloud of obsessive thoughts, and I was in real pain.
When the alarm went off at 5 am, I felt sure I was going to make it, and I got up ready for the task. How far from reality I was. The offer of the day was the "Dimai Route" on the Punta Grohman, 3156 meters. Two hours approach on a 45° slope and ridge; then a 150 easy terrain to be climbed unroped (a climber died here in July); then 13 pitches; then 7 abseils, with downclimbing up to III; then another hour down the talus.
My mind was producing images of the long horrible way down, and they were terrifying images. I knew I wasn't going to make it, and I told my friends. They looked at me and understood. No one complained, although they could have, because now they were a party of three, so slower and less enjoyable. But my friends are real friends, and the first thing they asked me was: "can you make it to the car on your own?". I said yes, and sat down. I cheered them as they disappeared on the exposed ridge and, taking all the concentration I was capable of, I started the way down. On the grassy slope, after the ridge, I lay down, and with the sun now fully out of the mountain, I fell asleep. There wasn't a single sound in the whole valley, and I started to compose myself.
I knew the epic was nearly over, but I also knew that another epic was just about to start: I wanted to go bouldering now, but the few hours of sleep, and the effort of the walk in had left me knackered. I knew that despite it being only 8.30 am, my day was already over.
I got to the car park and tried to sleep in the car. It was too hot already and too noisy, the first trekkers arriving. So I pulled my finger out and went to the hut. I ordered a double, long coffee in a big cup and a slice of Strudel. I gulped everything down then had another long coffee. I packed my shit and went to the boulders, prepared to have a nap on the crashpads and then play my cards on my project, the famous traverse that I have been wanting to do since last year, when I also watched James try it.
I had tried it in early June, but was unable to put together its 18 moves. You first have to do "Mecca" a hard 7c, then keep going right on far apart edges. Brilliant climbing.
I got there and my first thought wasn't about sleeping, but about cleaning the holds and drying out the many wet ones. My head still a bit of a haze, I touched the rock and felt a strange, pleasant sensation. I found a better sequence on two movements and soon after all I could think about was giving it a go. I tried to sleep a bit, but I felt a urge to climb it. I just couldn't rest, and it wasnt' because of the coffee, because my heart was slow and I was relaxed. I was feeling something. Minutes later, after a couple of fumbled attempts and finally finding the right footholds for the lower part, I had crushed it. Easily. Well not easily, but I had climbed very well, aggressively and precisely. It was over. Another one.
Now I have climbed all the problems I wanted to do there, and this incredible feeling has been with me for the whole Sunday, the day originally planned for the assault. A mixture of satisfaction, joy and emptyness.
Despite feeling very bad in the morning, I went there, I kept the fucking faith and I got it. Needless to say, I couldn't sleep for the rest of the day, and my head really started to hurt, I think the pressure released and my body finally allowed itself to be sick.
My friends had an 11 hours marathon on the route, with a 5 hours long descent. The route was dangerous with rockfall, and Andrea had a close one exploding right to his side.
Just as I was starting to worry, I saw them sliding down the talus. Minutes later we were at the hut, gulping down beers and Radler. Miraculously, the alcohol released my excruciating headhache, and I finally felt good.
At night I slept like a baby.
I have so many thoughts in my mind right now. I wanted to do the problem, but maybe I wasn't ready to do it so quickly. I wasn't prepared. Now I think about what I've done, and cannot fit in the bigger picture, unless I think back to all the time I've dedicated to it in one way or another. I have done hundreds of pullups, hours of deadhangs, and even the odd route. I haven't stopped thinking about the goal for a second. Progressing, progressing, progressing.
My progression had crossed again the path of my projects and I have ticked. Now it's time to move on, even though I have to say that I feel very very empty now.
The problem is given 8a+. Is it? Before doing it, it was. Now, I dont' know. Did it seem easy? I don't know. I just did it: it's transformed now, it became just a thing that I wanted to do and I have done.
So in my personal grading scale, it gets the "F" grade: "fatto" - "done". Again, I want to think in terms of progression instead of in terms of reaching a specific goal: I was impressed, a few weeks back, when I found myself reading these same words on Dave MacLeod's book (page 119, just in case you want to check).
Fuck me, I really really don't understand this all: it's got no sense at all. I shouldn't have done it this way. It's a nonsense.

TO MALC, OR NOT TO MALC, THAT IS THE QUESTION

2010-08-14T11:29:00.004+02:00

As you may or may not know, I have recently ticked a couple of lines; one was a repeat, but with a broken foothold and a different exit, and one was "I Mulini", Tom's project for me from last year.
These two problems, that together pack in the mindblowing amount of nine moves, are snatchy and painful, and overall hard. I have some grades in my mind, but due to the particular nature of the problems, I will keep them in my mind for a while.
They don't count anyway: they could also be Font 6a, the fact is that I found them hard, I tried them without doing them for a while, and then I did them. That's a personal progress with no doubt.
So, what's the point?
As you do know, I am a bit obsessed by the power aspect of climbing. I know I'm not exactly weak, but for sure I don't feel strong, when I compare myself to the true strong ones.
So, right now, I am in a precarious situation: I feel weak but I know I have ticked. Hmm... should I resist the call of the sirens flattering my ego, chanting that I am a strong one, and inducing me to go straight to my projects; or shouldn't I?
You already know. I will resist.
Between "to Malc" or "not to Malc" I will always choose "to Malc". Because Malc not only is a beast and a lifetime hero of mine, but because he is always ticking, also.
So, he embodies the two aspects. Not only he's the creator of "Malc's One Armer", a footless one armer on a non existant hold - a feat that some may dismiss as trivial - but he's also the one that tore Cresciano apart. He's the one who chalked up mid-crux on "Hubble". He's the one. Full stop.

As for the one armer, it's a matter of potential: being able to perform one single move at Font 8a, opens up a new world of opportunities, and if you don't understand this, close this blog and don't come back, because you won't find anything for you here.
The world has a limited number of problems. The current grading scale stops at around Font 8c. But our own possibilities, in our minds, are endless. So, I don't want to simply climb the hardest boulder on Earth (Keith, you bastard made me change my mind, do you still remember our conversation in Font?), I want to endlessly progress. And progress can be infinite if we understand it as a goal in itself, rather than a mean to reach a certain grade. That’s why, despite being happy, very happy for the last lines I climbed, I want to concentrate on how weak I feel, on how bad I climb, and on how far away from my goals I am. Because my goals are very hard. But my goals push me forward, bring me under the fingerboard, or in the gym, or doing laps on a toprope. My goals drive me to progress, and my progresses, physical or even just mental ones, take me closer and closer to my goals: so close that at a given point my progresses will cross their path with the path of my goals and I will reach those goals. Luckily, at that moment, my breathing will slow down again, my yells will disappear, and I will picture in my mind a new target, a new goal. This new goal will be the same as ever, the only true goal that I have: progressing.

STAY SANE INSIDE INSANITY

2010-08-07T10:31:00.002+02:00

Lines from songs I love keep resounding in my ears, recently. This time it's not punk or hardcore or metal, it's the lines from "Eddie's Teddy" and "Don't Dream It, Be It", both from "The Rocky Horror Picture Show".
I am so deeply tied to this movie and its soundtrack: two years ago, when I made the move of moving to the sea to keep my Public Notary career, a move that later proved itself to be a humoungus error, that move meant also saying goodbye to the wall, the campusboard and all the gym's crew, to start training again all alone on a small fingerboard. At the time, I still hadn't seen the light under the form of a Beastmaker, so everything was even more difficult, but that fingerboard helped me to stay sane inside insanity. In the rainiest spring of the century, as both Tom and Rich, who later came to visit me, can testify, every night I would come home at 8.30 pm after 11 hours working, I would change into shorts and tanktop, would put on that soundtrack and would pull wooden edges or plastic slopers until failure, something that would happen sooner in my fingers and muscles than in my mind.
Now I have a Beastmaker, and again I often find myself breathing under it, eyes glued on the stopwatch, curious to see if I'll manage to see another set of hangs or pulls. I try to stay sane inside insanity again, but now I want to do more.
I want to stop dreaming it, I want to be it.
If I want to climb my projects, and I want to, I think I have to put in more effort. That's what makes me going now. The more I struggle, the happier I am.
I was reading Dave MacLeod's book the other day, and I stumbled on these lines "The best athletes often have something that 99% of everyone else doesn't. They love the 'grind'. They love the long, repetitive, drawn out and seemingly unrewarding years between the excitement of the novice and the success of being at the pinnacle of performance".
That's true, at least for me. Of course I am not a top athlete as far as objective performances go, but I feel I am a true athlete in my mind. I love to train. I love to fail and to feel weak because it pushes me on. I love being challenged and feeling everyone is against me (bear in mind, it's not true at all, I have many people around who love me), I love feeling alone (which sometimes is all true).
So at the venerable age of 38 and half, I am certain that I am still far from reaching my true potential, and I am certain that sooner or later I will clip that chain and I will top out on that boulder.
So my friends, dont' dream it, be it. I wish you to succeed easily on your projects. I wish you to find yourselves on top of that boulder, or clipping that chain, as if you'd done nothing, easily, with no training or suffering.
But I still wish myself to succeed after a long and hard fight, because I know that if I do so, I'll never stop.

A SMILE, FINALLY!

2010-08-01T15:28:00.004+02:00

I had a good day yesterday on rock at Amiata top with my good friend Fabio. I did the usual problems, put up the 13th eliminate on "Il Motorino di Mario" (it's worth mentioning that there are four holds in total on the block), then proceeded to repeat "Il Manfano", a problem that I had done last summer, but that I also wanted to repeat, probably because a foothold crumbled and made the move a bit more exigent in precision, if not power. Anyway I did it third go, and three goes were enough to shred my skin, but the problem is so good. I felt solid, chose a higher foothold that made the first move a bit harder but saved a foot movement, and that made all the difference. I stuck the pocket, adjusted, and went on to the top. I let go a yell that bounced down the valley for hours and for a moment I felt satisfied again.
As soon as I sat down again and took off my shoes, I thought about how much I was missing my girlfriend in that moment.
Then it was time to climb more, but my skin was hurting, so I decided to skip the volume and just try the eliminate that Tom had created and left for me to try, last september when he came here. I had given it a few tried without sticking the third move, to a bad crimp, so when I didn't even stick the first move I was a bit shocked. Instead of crying, I took my time to analyze the hold carefully to understand the perfect finger placement: it's an index finger mono with a little bit for middle and ring finger on some kind of slopey dish. Nasty.
The study worked and I did the move next try, going on to the crimp and almost latching the final move to the jug. I fell on the last move another two or three times, but at that point my skin was too poor and I was very tired. The problem, despite being very short, squeezes quite a lot of core tension from your body and I was done.
So, finally a good day out and some smiles on my face and on Fabio's face, who ticked his first 6c+/7a.
Tom, you'll never have your pants back, they're cool, they're comfy and they're stylish, so now they're also mine.
Here's a small video, sadly from phone camera. Keep the faith.

SHOULD I STAY OR SHOULD I GO?

2010-07-30T23:20:00.005+02:00

I feel happy. I don't know if I am happy, but I feel happy.

I again got home from work smashed, and again I didn't have enough in me to train seriously, so I didn't, and I feel sorry for that.
My weekend plans are for Amiata top tomorrow and wasting time on sunday, it will be going to a pool to be more precise, but still a waste of time to me.
So, with a long part of the summer still to go, poor skin and feeling weak, my evening has not been very nice. After dinner, though, I took my laptop, put on my headphones and listened to a couple of dozens songs from The Clash and The Who, and I have to say that now I feel happy.
Because while listening to those beats, I still felt the same energy inside, the same bomb going off, the same gigantic "Fuck off you all!" that I had inside when I was 17, and I understood, once again, that I won't change for fuck, I will always be the same asshole despite age and work and everything, and that noone will ever make me do something I don't want to do.
I know they'll never catch me, and I am free again.

GRAZIE

2010-07-22T13:05:00.004+02:00

I really want to thank you all guys. Tom, Rich, Lagers, Unai, Filo, and all the others who didn't comment but spent a thought on this.
I was thinking that maybe it's been a very bad idea to write about such private issues, maybe a true gentleman would have sacked it and kept going. Maybe.
For sure I was feeling very bad when I wrote the entry, and I was feeling very very lonely. After all, I think that it was just a way to be hugged by friends. I think I have stolen you your time, do I really have the right to whine on here, and to make poor Unai waste his time in NZ thinking about me? No, I don't have this right, but I'm a very selfish person and when I need something I try to get it.
I needed attention and support, and I got them both, and also a bit of a crack in the back of my head (thanks Unai!).
Things didn't change much in the last week, but some tension released for sure. I won't give up easily, my relationship is fundamental for me: I was with my girlfriend when I topped out on my first Font 8a, and this means something.
Over and out for the moment, but really thank you all.

THOUGHTS OF SAD DAYS

2010-07-19T14:47:00.002+02:00

After reading the entry title, at this moment you still can close the page and read something else. What will come is not fun at all.
You sure? Ok, so here you go.
I am both sad and angry. My relationship is falling apart, and despite all the efforts I put in, nothing seems to work. Every argument, whatever its origin, ends up the same way: climbing is the enemy and it has to be slaughtered and sacrificet on the altar of love.
Simply, this will never, never, never fucking never happen. I will sacrifice everythying to my climbing, because, as I have said one million times, I AM MY CLIMBING.
The roots of this situation are lost in time, and despite our efforts to find a fil rouge that could help us understand things better, things are really at the end right now. I have found myself in the same situation before, and with the same girl, but now hope escapes me, I feel I am being forced to renounce to things I love, and I simply don't want it anymore.
Obviously, this is my point of view. If you want to hear her version to be fair, ask her to write a blog.
And now fuck off you all.

CENSORSHIP

2010-07-14T16:56:00.003+02:00

Many of you, my reader friends, who daily wait to receive the Truth from Totolore, may have noticed that now the comments, before being published, are going to be moderated, i.e. I will read them before they will appear.
This is obviously not to discourage them, but only to avoid the spamming that I was receiving recently.
So please my friends, feel free to comment more than ever. Thank you.

OMPHALOS

2010-07-10T21:10:00.002+02:00

When I am at the bar, I am the center of the universe. I stand there and I watch people pass by. I observe every glance of the barman, I listen to every word every customer pronounces. And I judge humanity upon what I see when at the bar.
So I can see someone asking for a coffee at 8 pm, which is a legitimate thing, but then I can see the same person eating tons of peanuts, chips and everything's on the bar. And that is NOT legitimate. No finger food with coffee. We are civilized people.
Or I can see the fat girl who, after three dishes full of sandwiches, omelette and pasta, is shy to have another drink, because "cocktails contain too much sugar". But I can also see nice couples, or beautiful ladies, well dressed and polite.
So, my friends, go to your local bar, and don't be shy to ask for something a bit particular (maybe not a Singapore Sling when the barman is busy with dozens of customers, or he will hate you forever. The Singapore Sling, however, should only be sipped while in Singapore, with a perfectly shaped 18 year old prostitute to your side), because your barman will be happy to make you your favourite cocktail, will be happy to be doing not the usual gin-and-vodka-and-amaretto-shit, or whatever the tosser wants, to reach unconsciousness as fast as possible.
Remember, when at the bar, be cool, be stilish and be polite, because I could be there, right elbow on the bar, judging humanity.

GUILTY

2010-07-05T22:16:00.005+02:00

I feel very guilty for not training as hard as I want. After an easier week, now I would really like to train very hard and very specifically, also.
I can more or less do the first thing, at least with the weights, but I can't really do the second, or at least I can't do anything else than the Beastmaker (which is, anyway, a great thing).
The wall closed last weekend, and now they are dismantling everything. Noone really knows when and where they will reopen; rumors are that they will build a mega wall and everything, but also that they will move away from town: given that the wall was two minutes on bike from my house, that's no wonder.
I keep moving weights in the sweaty, filthy gym and can see some progress. After a short week, with one day dedicated to weights, one to toproping and the rest to drinking with my friends for the Palio, yesterday I hit the weights again and found myself in good power regime. On the bench press, I jumped from 6 to 10 reps of my previously usual weight, then I added 5 more kilos and could still do 2 reps, after just a 3 minutes rest.
I think I have refined my session. Bench press, then 2 exercises to work the triceps in super sets, then back and biceps with various techniques. Yesterday I did the pulley machine one handed, four sets, and then 7 sets of bicep curls, using two different grips. Unluckily my elbow is still achey if I do the normal curl, with palms pointing up. Finally, shoulder and abs.
Today the menu offers back again, probably lat machine one handed and biceps again, still don't know whether in super sets or not.
Then, I am trying to get into better eating habits, this meaning I'm trying to eat a bit less. Not to lose weight, that is one thing that I don't want to do, but to feel better, and not like a T-Rex after eating 1/4 of his bodyweight in one meal.
My sunday Beastmaker session was very good. I am still doing sets of 10" for 6 times for many different holds; currently:
- big rungs;
- 20°;
- 30°;
- mid two, good;
- slopey mono;
- front two, small;
- back two;
- mid two, small;
- small rung;
- back three, small rung;
- small rung.
Last sunday I changed things a bit, to fight a climbing-deprived weekend. On the bigger holds and on those on which I'm stronger, instead of deadhanging 10" I do 5 pull ups, going up and down by the second. On harder holds, I do one set deadhanging and one pulling, and on the hardest ones (monos and back two) I just try to do as many pulls as I can and then I deadhang to complete the 10".
I liked this session and will keep it; it's both fingery and physical (d'oh! could you guess it?) and left me pleasantly worked. It was nice, on monday, to feel my back a bit achey.
So, everything is NOT lost. The summer is long, the gym is closed and I am super eager to step it up. I wonder how the others will survive the period without the gym, then I think that mostly they won't care. The idea of training as hell to boulder 8b is not shared by many, or simply they have less mind issues than me.
My goal is to get out of this summer stronger than ever. The lack of training facilities only makes my will stronger. Strong mind and strong body. Is there anything else?
No.

HOT ROCK, BUT STILL ROCK

2010-06-29T21:55:00.002+02:00

I spent the last weekend at Amiata, in a super posh B&B that my girlfriend chose. The plan was to bake in the sun and chill in the swimming pool, for her; to destroy hard boulders, for me.
Predictably, she had more success, but despite a months long layoff due to the elbow, the lack of specific training, baby skin and hot, aggressive rock, I definitely pulled.
At first, I was feeling very nervous; it was as if everything was new. I felt unsure about doing moves that didn't seem that hard; I felt unsure to be able to actually complete a problem without screwing something; I felt unsure if it was a good idea to really give it a serious try, or if it could have been better for me to hide in the shadow of my elbow injury and step back from stage.
Predictably again, I decided to give it a go. On the first problem, I was very tense. The move off the pinch seemed hard and as I tried the topout I immediately started to have problems, until I found a sequence to the right side of the boulder. So I took my chances, stepped under the small overhang and concentrated. Then I pulled on, and I felt everything easy as it once was. Despite this, I did manage to screw it on the topout, due to not being used anymore to climbing. I was tempted to take the tick nonetheless, the move that I fumbled is easy and I was scared to try again the bottom move, the slap to the sloper. Then I thought that I had to get used again to the pressure, that I had to get confident again, to see myself doing every move and to believe. So I did it again and crushed it.
This brought great joy and satisfaction. I had previously cleaned another line to the right, dynamic slaps and compressions between the arete and some pinches, but the rock had already taken its toll from my fingertips and my body was tired, I didn't have much core tension and could barely figure out the bottom moves. The top ones will be hard, but I will do them and it will be a great problem.
I walked back down to another small overhang.
Months ago I had been there, and I had done the problem, but I couldn't complete the sitter I wanted to add. So I set to work, but every hold was too painful, and despite getting the last crimp twice, I had to admit defeat.
It was time to get back to the pool.
Sunday, with my already acheing tips, I found myself again there. I warmed up, and felt comfortable under the pressure of wanting to do the sitter first go. It wasn't a flash, in my mind it was even harder than a flash attempt. On a flash, you can blame everything for blowing it: a wrong sequence, a suddenly greasy hold, or whatever. I couldn't. I knew exactly what I had to do, how every move and every hold would feel, how hard. So it was with great joy that I did it first go, cutting loose even if I didn't want to, but climbing it well.
I went back to the problem of the saturday, and added a sitter to that also.
Finally, I went back to another sector to give a try to another project of mine, a traverse on slopey holds. I made progress and I felt happy and grateful. I felt grateful to myself, because I never let go and kept my faith in a better future, even when I was feeling sad and I found everything unfair.
So I came home with new problems done, and, which is even better, new projects to bash my head against.
My elbow was tired but fine, so maybe that better future has finally arrived and I am ready to welcome it.

ONE YEAR, ONE MONTH, WEIGHTS, A MISSION

2010-06-21T14:43:00.003+02:00

Two months ago I did my first serious Beastmaker session. Then I decided to call it quits for a while, to recover my elbow, and dedicated myself to moving weights around in a dusty, dark and stinky gym. I have been doing this for the last month, three or four times a week, and I think I got some result. I immediately noticed that somehow, during the winter, I had retained the power I had put up in past summer's cycle. So I started again from there.
I have trimmed the session in this month, cutting off useless exercises (useless in terms of climbing training) and adding some others. In particular, I started training my back, and recently my triceps, with super sets.
So I first do parallel dips and then cable extensions for the triceps, and I do bicep curls with a dumbbell followed by one armed pulley machine or one armed lat machine. It's strenuous but effective. I hadn't felt my biceps and back this worked in a lot of time. I still am very very cautious with my right arm, I try to pull down but avoid the fully locked position due to my elbow, which, despite the repeated beatings I give it, is getting slowly better. The combined one armed sessions at the fingerboard I did all April, also gave some results. My left arm is definitely overally stronger and more stable, and my bicep has changed its shape, which is a clearly good sign.
Yesterday I did my second Beastmaker session of the past week. Progress. I am currently training with 6 sets of 10" hangs for each chosen hold and grip. Still refining the session to obtain the most from power and skin, yesterday was a good one. I did:
warm up; big rungs; 20°; 30°; middle two; slopey monos; front two on small ones; back two; back two on small ones; small rungs; back three small rungs; small rungs again. Felt good and satisfied at the end, with a decent volume of 11 clean minutes of deadhangs, and also a quite high intensity, working two fingers at a time is hard for me, almost never done it before. It's good to train this way because you can go at the limit without having to add weight or go one armed, two things that I don't want to do anymore (the frist one), and for the moment (the latter).
One other good (or bad, depending on your opinion) thing about the Beastmaker, is that it's widely popular among strong climbers, this allowing everyone to share data. Speaking with Tom the other day I realized (once more), how weak my fingers are. Seeing footage of Ned campusing between the 30° and the small monos in the Climbing Works video tour, made me realize how weak I am. Reading the Beasts' feats, made me realize how weak I am. The road is so long, steep and difficult, and it's so easy to get overwhelmed by other people's power. But, despite being so depressing, playing with the big boys is the only way to grow up stronger. I don't want to be the king of the gym, I want to go around and touch many different kinds of rock and climb many different, hard problems. I go to the gym to fail, to be shit and to feel shit. Not to succeed. Or not mainly.
Sometimes I am a bit sad because I feel the need to put more effor into my climbing: recently I feel like I've been a bit slack, not traininfgproperly or seriously, even though I know that this wouldn't be fair to say. I have trained as hard as I could with my injury, but this thought lets me not satisfied. I would like to dedicate my entire day to climbing and training, doing more and more, but sadly it's not possible.
Even having the time needed, I don't know if my body would allow me, but for sure I would try.

EYE CANDY

2010-06-18T15:18:00.002+02:00

Images courtesy of Filippo Galluzzi.