Sunday, 18 January 2009


I've had a very strange weekend. I woke up saturday morning feeling more than tired, feeling depressed. I had rested on saturday, after a brief talk with The Guru, for this reason: I was coming from three days on, training hard; there was some chance to go out on saturday, so it was better to rest on friday and boulder on sunday; if I wasn't climbing on saturday, I could have put in a good session after some rest.
Well, I wanted to go climbing, but Sasso was going to be wet, especially the problem I would have gone there for. Amiata and the roof was another chance, but a send was out of sight, because of my shoulder on the first hard move. Luca decided to go for two days, with his van, leaving friday night, that was one thing I couldn't do. For once, I didn't feel like driving two hours on my own to go to Amiata, and moreover I wanted to give a treat to my shoulder.
I didn't do any of the smart things that I could have done. I didn't climb, I didn't rest, I didn't train. I decided to go to the gym, but was tired and absolutely on a very low psyche, so I just climbed a little bit with little success and a final painful and stupid strain on my shoulder.
I should have called a friend, and gone to Amiata for a nice day out, rehearsing the crux moves on the roof and enjoying life.
I managed somehow to do some tests, and I definitely have improved on the fingerboard, so that's good.
What I want to understand now is: why I was that depressed on saturday morning? Probably because on friday night I really reflected on how much I miss climbing more, and in different places. This is one thing that isn't going to be fixed anytime soon, so I'd better get to work to arrange my future without whining, trying to take the best from what I have now.
The idea of being deprived of something in terms of time to be dedicated to climbing is always with me. Because, let's face it, the gym does not count. Not for me. That's training, that's a tool. The aim is another, is out there, is on rock: on sandstone, on granite, on limestone; in Cresciano, in Font, buried under tons of snow in the Dolomites.
Everywhere but here. It's very hard for me now, to keep the focus and the will to go on, waiting for the moment when I'll try to reap my reward. I clearly know that just going climbing somewhere isn't enough for me to be sure that I send one of my projects, but not being able to even try, to fight, is so hard. I lose my focus, everything seems the same, session after session, just very little changes, small feelings: one move particularly well executed; one very powerful lock; one clear sensation of lightness on the problems. I have to chase these feelings, these rapis ghosts that pass in front of my eyes. I have to believe. I have to believe that one day I will have all the time I need, to climb at my best. I have to believe that when that time will come, I WILL climb at my best. Can I be sure about this? No. Only when I'll be there I will know. I'm not a man of sureness. I am a man of doubts, that's why I train so much. I want to have alot in my tank to prevent me from screwing things up when it comes to mind games. I know many things. I feel many other things. All the rest I guess. All the rest I dream. What I can do now is to work hard to get at that moment as prepared as I can be. That's what I do.

3 comments: said...

Sounds like the structured over training is all that is causing the demotivation. I am sure when the results of your training phase start showing you will be psyched!

I got my t-shirt in the post this morning, I will take a photo of me doing Brad Pitt in it when I nail it (very soon).

Keep strong.

Stubbs said...

That little video has just got me psyched for fingerboarding again - thanks Lore!

Ghostface said...

Nice Lore. The motivation to train hard is all you need. We have a summer of projecting ahead. Let's not lose sight what the next 6 months can bring us when we go to the cleanup and arise at 5am.

I can see the fingerboard improvements. Ottimo!