12 Ways to Hate Climbing

1. Buy a gym membership and feel like you have to “get your money’s worth.” Set a schedule and climb five days a week on the same problems whether it’s pouring rain and 33 degrees or sunny, 55 and perfect in every way for sending your outdoor project. Even better, do this to yourself every day.
2. Hangboard for hours repeating the same two Metolius workouts the entire time. Don’t play music or watch crazy Adam Ondra videos to get you psyched. Bonus hate if you don’t use chalk.
3. Climb with people who onsight several grades above your hardest tick and convince yourself that you have to outclimb them.
4. Focus solely on grades.
5. Never take rest days: Climb in the gym every day, even on the days you go outside.
6. Make every day a workout. When you climb outside do sets of push-ups between burns, four-by-fours on granite razorblade crimps or continuously climb up and down the same route, five, ten or twenty-three times to “work on your endurance.”
7. Decide that you’re only going to work on your anti-style for the next year.
8. Punish yourself with push-ups, pull-ups, sets of five-minute planks or insert least favorite exercise here if you don’t send your project. Also make sure said project is several grades above what you normally climb.
9. Set unrealistic goals and hold yourself to them. Chris Sharma sent 5.15 b/c, so in six months you should be able to as well.  
10. Only eat energy gels, bars and protein shakes with a sandy consistency while climbing.
11. Expect to send harder routes/projects every day you climb.
12. Remind yourself that climbing is not a fun, relaxing activity involving the enjoyment of nature and figuring out beta with friends. It’s purely a workout.

Scared of being scared

Fear is a frequent topic among climbers. It’s natural. Your instincts are telling you that you’ve greatly increased your chances of dying by hanging yourself hundreds of feet above the ground, relying on a few nuts and cams, a rope, a belay device and another person to keep you from hitting the ground. It no longer seems that irrational for your calf muscles to be shaking uncontrollably or that you chalk up four extra times before going for the crux. Even if you’re topping out a highball and likely won’t die from the 20-foot fall, you probably aren’t psyched at the great likelihood of breaking an ankle. I even get nervous on single pitch sport routes, hesitating before attempting challenging moves even when I know I won’t ground out but don’t want to slam into the cliff below me either.

There are many books written on how to strengthen your mental climbing game and Steph Davis writes about the topic frequently in her blog High Infatuation. There are many things to fear while climbing including, but not limited to: heights, hitting the ground from several stories up, hitting a ledge, missing the pad, having your gear pop, having the rope break, back-clipping, failing at your project, failing to onsight, failing to send a climb below your grade, breaking a hold, getting hit with a broken hold, and regretting having previously consumed four Red Bulls and six Taco Bell burritos half-way up Cannon.

However, none of these plague me as much of the fear of being afraid. Much like worrying, this fear is completely irrational. Being afraid of being afraid does not help me climb harder or safer. It has never made me double check my knot or fueled my sending a project. It just makes me anxious.

I’d only been climbing outside for a few months the first time I saw Cream, a 20-foot V0+ highball classic at Pawtuckaway. Brandon jokingly said I should climb it and then immediately retracted the statement, saying he wouldn’t make me do that. If he thought it was too high, hard, and scary for me then I wouldn’t protest. I kept waking by.

Beta photo of Cream V0+ courtesy of Mountain Project and Travis Dustin

Later that spring, I traded an everything bagel with cream cheese for a ride to Pawtuckaway with Alec. I didn’t have any project plans for the day, and Alec was kind enough to show Sarah, another beginner climber, and me the easy classics of Pawtuckaway. Cream was on the list.

“Have you climbed Cream?” Alec asked. I said I hadn’t, and we walked over. Alec threw down a pad, pointed out the starting jugs, and reassured me that the downclimb was the hardest part. I grabbed the jugs, finding better and better holds as I went up. The feet were good, and I never felt insecure. I had no sense of how high off the ground I was until I topped out. I was never nervous. I don’t even remember whether or not Alec was spotting me, though he probably was. Alec thought I could climb Cream and left me with no time to be afraid before I’d sent. And he was right, the downclimb was the trickiest part, or maybe that’s just what I was expecting.

I’ve never done Cream since. To be honest: I’m scared to. I’m not scared of falling, though I remember none of my beta; I’m afraid that I’ll be afraid. I was so focused and emotionless the first time I climbed it that now I’m scared that I won’t have that same comfort the next time attempt to send.

Now, you might suggest that I go out to Pawtuckaway right now and conquer that fear immediately. But, being a wimp, I’m going to suggest another solution: climbing sauce. Sauce is a V3 traverse with a funky undercling that leads into Cream. To send Sauce, you have to send Cream. So, I think I’ll choose the route of surprising myself, resending Cream when I finally work out my short-person beta on Sauce. Then I’ll have less time to be scared, and hopefully I’ll be focused like my first send.

For now,  I’m going to work on not being afraid of being afraid. Between breaking my ankle last fall and the long, cold, snowy winter, it’s been a while since I lead sport or trad, so naturally I’m anticipating being a bit nervous for the first few clips/placements/whips. However, I won’t let my fear of feeling fear keep me from getting on hard routes again. And the only sleep I plan to lose over it will be out of pure excitement.

The Ultimate Guide to Dry Climbing Snacks

There are many benefits to packing extremely dry snacks for a day of climbing, hiking, and any other type of adventuring that involves cramming food in the bottom of a backpack. First, they won’t get your backpack incredibly sticky or damp when they are crushed against the rest of your gear like the bananas I attempt to pack. Dry snacks generally take up very little room and usually force you to hydrate in order to swallow each bite.

But with so many dry snacks out there, it’s sometimes hard to decide what to pack. You can only eat so many carrot cake Clif bars before you’d rather starve than open another package. Here’s the ultimate guide to picking the best thirst-inducing, real-food snacks for any adventure.

First, you need to find a dry carbohydrate base to build off of (or simply eat alone):

• Graham Crackers: One of my personal favorites. Their neat rectangular packages take up very little room, and they remind me of kindergarten snack time. Graham crackers are good alone, but for even more sticky, parching enjoyment, and higher calorie content to fuel long days, add peanut butter.
• Trail mix: The saltier the better (and drier). You can go on the cheap with “GORP”—good old raisins and peanuts—or you can add additional dry carbohydrates such as goldfish or granola and nuts for variety and M&Ms or yogurt covered fruits for a sweet twist.
• Day-Old Bagels: They’re cheaper and three times drier than fresh bagels. Add any nut butter to ensure that they stick to the roof of your mouth.
• Crackers: The cracker aisle can be a bit overwhelming. Go for rice crackers if you’re gluten free (or if you’re me and just like them), Triscuits for whole grains with random flavors, or wheat thins ranch for funzies. If you’re opposed to packaged foods you can also make your own pumpkin and flax seed kale crackers; I’m sure those are quite dry too (and just sound healthy). As always, add nut butters for gluey variety or cheese if you’re new to dry snacks and are having trouble eating things akin to the desert.

Now, if you’re just looking for a solo dry snack go for any of the following:

• Goldfish, preferably flavor-blasted and not artificial pizza flavor
• Pretzels
• Homemade granola (the Honeybunches of Oats kind from the store is good too)
• Plain dry cereal, the more it resembles small twigs and the larger the word fiber is written on the box the better
• Rice cakes if you’re into eating 50 percent air with each bite

Other favorites:

For a dry high protein alternatives try salted, dried edamame. You’ll need at least 8 ounches of water per handful to wash them down.

FOR ULTIMATE SENDING FUEL: Stale donuts, preferably from Dunkin and covered in coconut. The sugar provides fast energy for the approach and the high fat content will keep you full and sending throughout the day. The benefits increase exponentially the more you eat until 7.43 donuts, and then a food coma ensues.

Now, what do you do for hydration to allow for the swallowing of all of these goodies? According to Matt Birkebak, all one needs is half a gallon of chocolate milk, half a gallon of lemonade and 32 ounches of green goodness smoothie.

A Letter to Spring

Dear Spring,

According to my very colorful assignment book, it is April, and it has been for almost a week.  This means that we should be solidly in spring. Easter has come and past, and I’m ready for sunshine, no snow, and more sunshine.

So Spring, I’m wondering where you are. I’ve seen a few hints, some Canada geese in the cornfields on the way to Pawtuckaway and cardinals in several trees, but I can't say I’m seeing the springtime results I’m hoping for.  However, between you and me, I think we can work something out.

First off, let's discuss the snow. Postholing to above my knees while walking between boulder problems increases sock dampness and decreases psych significantly. Also, it makes my crash pad wet, missing the crash pad a damp, chilly mishap, and keeping my shoes dry nearly impossible. I’d like the snow to leave. Please pick Pawtuckaway as your first destination for this to happen.

Now can we please discuss the weather in general? It does not need to ever go below 40 degrees Fahrenheit in April, 50 degrees in May, or 60 degrees in June. And then there is the rain. I know that “April showers bring May flowers.” I like flowers. Even more than that, I like that the rain helps melt the snow. However, could we pick a better time than every weekend to have it rain? Sunday nights are perfect along with Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday nights. If you have to schedule rain during the day, please make it one of those three weekdays as well. Then, if it’s not too much to ask, please make Thursday and Friday morning sunny and windy to dry off all the rocks for climbing Friday afternoon through Sunday evening.

Now, about the sun: I’ve missed it. Please make climbing sunny on the weekends—and on the days already discussed above—and any other day you feel like banning clouds. Collectively, New England has the winter blues, and you, dear Spring, have the power to stop the current “SAD” epidemic. I'd love to think of March and April as more than just mud season and dirty snow covered in microscopic black bugs.

Overall, I’m psyched. I’m ready for winter and all the cold and white that goes along with it to be gone. Even more than that, I’m ready to climb. Real rocks. Outside. Sure I’ll be outside whether its cloudy and 35 degrees or sunny and 55, but there is a 746.89 percent chance that I’ll climb 356 percent harder for 673 percent longer and put my climbing shoes on 4.37 times as often if it’s the latter.  So Spring, I’ve missed you, and I’ve missed feeling my feet while climbing outside. Please pay New England a visit.

Yours,

Liz