I went climbing again on sunday, despite Amazonic Forest humidity. The mountain was deep into the mist, but this didn't stop friend Fabio from pushing on the pedal in the last turns, almost making me exhibit what was remaining of my scarce breakfast on the windshield. We faced conditions as proudly as we could, and we got our reward. You don't know until you go.
I am happy about my climbing: it's really nothing special, and that's why I'm happy. I'm quite constant at an average level, but not much ago, I wasn't even constant at that. Average performances were an issue. Now they are more frequent, and in different places and on different kinds of rock. So I'm happy, because I still haven't begun any specific training, because I think I climb well, and because it would be stupid not to be happy: I'm hansome, I'm a boulderer, and I am a complete fool. I pity the fool, though.