ON A LIGHTER NOTE...

I have a Mohawk haircut.

IF

If only it hadn't rained for three days.

If only I hand't slipped from the first move, hitting a rock with my elbow.

If only I wasn't deep in a four weeks load cycle.

If only I was a better climber.

If only I had had another go.

If only the lip was two inches closer.

I'm tempted to let these thoughts enter my mind, and stay there, and convince myself that everything's right. But I won't let them in.

Truth is, I didn't send Out of Service yesterday, because it's just plain hard. It's not morpho, it's just hard, and maybe I'm just not good enough.

What the fuck - you may think - the guy's cranking every night in the gym, has been training for almost two years now in a very serious way, and still he's not good enough? C'mon, just quit.

This is the sad truth. All this toil and work just to be average. Just to be not good enough. What's the point? The point is just trying to be good. Trying to be better. Every dog has its day. Or maybe not, but the dog that doesn't try, that doesn't want to have its day, is a sad dog.

LUNCHBREAK

I'm absolutely smashed by Saturday morning work.
It's like if we're giving away stuff for free.
At one moment I had two men for carving skis and three kids for ski boots. All the kids were named Lorenzo, and they were running around in the shop with ski boots on, their parents were calling them and each time I heard "Lorenzo" I turned.

Anyway, tomorrow, with mediocre forecast, I'll head to Sasso and Out of Service.

Another week of puling passed. Yesterday night the guru, very wisely suggested to change the session from power endurance to pure power, to shock my white fibers for tomorrow success.