Saturday, 14 August 2010


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.

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