UK AND SECOND CHANCES

Once again at a friend's house, once again at Stanage, once again at Parisella's cave, once again at the pubs, everything is apparently the same, yet it's completely different.

I wasn't sure I could be doing this trip until the last days before leaving, due to a physical problem that gave me a real bad time and stopped my training for the first three weeks of February.

But I made it, in the end.

I came over with some other friends apart Michele this time, and when we dropped our pads at Plantation, I felt not only at home again, but also something very very new and different, whose origin I found in last year's successful trip: I was feeling happy.

I didn't want to try anything in particular, I was just happy to show my friends around and watch their smiles. This has been priceless.

I wanted to do Brad Pit again and I couldn't, to be honest at first I didn't even manage to heel hook and this left me shocked; my usual thought "It's time to quit" appeared again. Then I tried it again after carefully watching others try - or lap - it, and I realized that five months of face-on bouldering on my wall couldn't be translated into this problem. I carefully chose my position and did the heel hook and the cross easily. Maybe I won't quit yet.

On that occasion I realized also that I made a big schoolboy error this time: I only brought new shoes. My Solutions are so tight that I can't wear them without a plastic bag, and the heel rubber is still so new that in the cold of Stanage didn't ever stick to the sloper. I had similar problems at Parisella's cave, whose strange placements I could not feel with new, stiff shoes. But that's another story.

So yes, I was happy. I was happy also the following day, when a soaked hold hindered me - but not Rich - from doing Lou Ferrino. A true crusher would have crushed it anyway. I did it into the third move, fell, dried the hold then went to the end . One to come back for.

Yesterday was a gorgeous day, I walked around Liverpool, had a haircut, chilled out, ate a lot, and I also visited the Cathedral's tower. Last year I found the tower closed for works, and I was very disappointed; I thought "When will I have another chance to see it?". Well, I don't believe much in second chances, I believe that one can simply try again. This is a very stupid thing to say, but I think there's a great difference between thinking in terms of "chances" and in terms of "trying again": in the first case we wait for something to happen, in the second case we want to make it happen.

What do I want to make happen again? I still want to climb Brad Pit again, but I also want to finish Lou Ferrino and Jerry's Traverse at Stanage. I want to keep visiting my friends and I want to make them come to Italy. I want to keep training and believing that I am not the shittest climber I've ever seen. I want to keep the faith in my projects and become a better teacher.

I also want to start deadlifting.

I am close to the end of five weeks off work, and again I cannot help but think about how hard I fought to find myself in this position. Many people around me supported my decision, and thanks to them and to that little bit of foolishness and luck, I never had to ask for a second chance.

FEET ON THE GROUND!

In the pics my new bass and some wonderful moments, pre and post party.

I think that my latest entries were too serious and presumptuous, but I am a presumptuous bastard, so I guess that's normal.
Anyway, I am two weeks into my holidays and things have been a bit hectic, at least in my mind.
I have been trying to arrange a trip up to UK, but until yesterday it was very unlikely; this drove me crazy because I felt absolutely useless. Then it snowed, and snowed, and snowed.
I found myself buried at home: temps ranging from -3° to -11°, closed roads and boulders covered in snow didn't help me in maintaining my self control and Italian aplomb. At moments I almost went crazy. After a few days of forced rest, and just before throwing furniture out of the window, I decided to break the spell and found myself under the Beastmaker, with my weightvest on. What a glorious decision!!! A great session, my first one with 5 kilos on, and it literally made me happy.
I still don't know how the Beastmaker works, after a layoff it seems like that one is still progressing, and it takes very little to regain a personal high even after a long time off it. Anyway I completed all the 6 prescribed sets on the 10 chosen holds; I surprised myself by hanging the 45°, the index monos, the slopey pockets and all the other ones, a real big step forward.
A good Beastmaker session for sure is miles better than Prozac.
This session left my forearms a bit worked, and after a rest day I decided do lift some weights, so I went to the gym and found out that I haven't lost much from August, when I worked out for the last time. Oh well!!! I went back home in a freezing wind, trying not to kill myself on the iced snow, only thinking about a big chicken meal and my comfy bed. It wasn't to be: from the road all the lights in the house seemed off, and when I opened the door I saw the shadows of many people singing "Happy Birthday" for me. My girlfriend had spent the last two weeks organizing a surprise party!!! I was truly shocked and for a good quarter of an hour was unable to really comprehend what was going on!!! It's been a great night with lots of friends, food, alcohol and presents!!!
In the following days I did some cross training under the form of shoveling tons of snow from my road to warrant me some mobility (to where I didn't know).
As I found out that climbing was out of question, with short one day windows of good weather between snowstorms, it was time to train again.
I still hadn't completely recovered so I knew I didn't have much volume, and I opted for one arm max hangs.
I did some tests and found out good improvements: I set a PB on the big rung with both the left and right arm (10 seconds with 14 kilos with the right, twice); and I also managed two very good right hand hangs of the small pockets with front2 (that's 7c+ in the charts bitch!); I did many other sets especially on front2 and mid2, to finish off with some max hangs on the incut jug (whose depht I reduced putting in some cardboard); then I was too tired to do anything else, but today I don't feel much tired, so maybe it could be possible to do another session.
As you can tell, this post is quite meaningless, if you A) don't have a Beastmaker (I pity the fool); and B) you don't like training; and even if you tick both boxes, it still does not say much.
What I can tell is that I really enjoyed these last sessions, and I'm sure I'll reap what I'm sowing. And I'm not sowing the seeds of love, mind.
Finally, some glorious moments in full video galore.

SAY WHAT YOU MEAN...

... 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.