I stand at the bottom looking up. I'm supposed to fit all my appendages into that thing and haul myself up to the top. Really??
The thing about climbing is that every type is so different. There's face climbing, overhangs, bulgy, crimpy, grippy, slabby... and then there's crack. The type of climbing that, for me, makes a 5.6 seem like a 5.11. Every time I think to myself it's not that different, it's just rock, and I'm just making my way up it like I do every other time. Then I get up there and get spanked. The balance and flow I feel when I climb slab that makes me feel like I'm dancing with the rock completely doesn't exist when I climb crack. Pretty much I feel like a beached whale.
Ok, who am I kidding? That whale is 500 times more graceful than me. Ah well.
So I sit here at the bottom watching Jamie go up. Jamie's pretty good at crack; actually, he's good at all types of climbing. Me, I'd rather ride bikes. But climbing's pretty fun, and I guess I like to suffer. So, after he effortlessly flies up the line placing cams and nuts as he goes, I put my game face on and shove my hands into the deep abyss.
And immediately fall off.
Aaack. Here we go again. I look up, studying the flares and constrictions of the deep weaving snake cutting a splitter line through the rock. There's not much to speak of for features on the rock, just the crack itself, leaving me no choice. If I'm going up, I'm going in. I pause for a photo, and at this point I apparently I still have a smile on my face. Little did I know...
About halfway up I can't extract a nut (out of the gutter, people!) so I have to hammer on my nut tool with my ATC. Awesome. I'm getting more frustrated by the minute for as soon as I release the nut I fall on my foot jam and it slides deep into the crack. I have a minor internal panic attack as I picture myself breaking my ankle and shooting my racing season in the foot (pun intended). Is this climbing thing really worth it? grrrrr. I just want to climb slab, I'm actually good at that. It sucks being so sucky at something. I want to come down, screw it. I beat myself up as it takes me nearly 5 minutes to wiggle my foot out of the constriction.
No, you don't want to come down. You know how to jam, just do it. Stop being a pussy!
I twist my foot out of its sucking chokehold and jam my fist above my head. Surprisingly, it sticks, and I haul myself a foot higher in the crack. I silently thank my lucky stars I brought my stiff trad shoes and not my soft, flexible sport shoes- my little foot bones would be crushed as I jam and twist, jam and twist. Ok, really now. Stop being so dramatic. Ok, they wouldn't be crushed, but it would hurt like hell. Yeah, I'm being whiny, so sue me.
After a few more jams, twists, pulling pieces, falling, and struggling back up, which felt like an eternity, I finally reached the top. Damn, what a relief. My hands are cut and bleeding from the sharp granite and pulling on my hand jams because I had no other option. I didn't think to make tape gloves for this one, guess I thought I could avoid the jams. Turns out, I couldn't. I clean the anchors off with shaky fingers and rappel down, defeated.
As I belayed Jamie up the next line, my head was full of negative thoughts that I couldn't push away. Here I am in Squamish, the climbing capital of North America, and I can't even climb the easiest cracks. I'd rather be on the bike, this is dumb, I want to quit. I'm not having even a tiny bit of fun up here. But wait- isn't this the very place you were enamored with just yesterday? look around, you're missing it! I don't care, I can't even see anything, there are rocks and trees all around. You love rocks and trees! Suck it. And so went my internal dialogue. I had decided that I was done, one was enough for me today, I'm calling it quits. I'll belay Jamie as long as he wants to climb and then I'm going for a run. But you're not a quitter. When have you ever quit at anything? Suck it, this is too hard!

As I was torturing myself below, Jamie happily finishes his line and I lower him down. "Your turn!" I go off belay, look at my hands, take a deep breath and make a decision: This will NOT beat me.
I tie in, stuff my fingers in the crack (smaller than the last one) and twist for all it's worth. It holds, and feet come next. Hand over hand, foot over foot, jamming my way up towards the sky. I reach a flake, rest on a lieback, and pull some cams. On a lieback, I can hold forever, and I gain confidence as I walk my feet up the opposing wall, hanging back on the flake. Near the top of the flake my foot slips and I squeal as I fly downward. The rope catches me, and damn, I'm back to where I started before the flake, damn stretchy dynamic rope. I'm so tired, I don't know if I can get back up there. I catch a breath and look up. I will not have a shitty attitude, or this thing is over before it began. I know how to do this, I have the skills, I just need to go.
I power back up the flake before I can wear out and shove my fingers and toes in the crack again. Trust the jam. It will hold you. My foot slips, my finger lock holds. Yes! I reach the top, laughing, glad I didn't give up. I static in and rest on my sling, feet dangling in the air, and take a look around. Howe Sound is sparkling in the distance, the high peaks towering above and reflecting off the crystal water. Squamish town sits in the center of the idyllic valley. At the other end stands Mt. Garibaldi, the mountain for another day. This one's for today.
I rap off, satisfied. It wasn't perfect, but I had conquered the crack, and conquered myself. I knew I still had a long way to go before my crack technique even came close to my slab technique, but I have to start somewhere and it might as well be here, in crack mecca. My ankles hurt like a sonofabitch and my hands were bleeding, but I was in a better place. There's only one way to get better, and that is to throw myself in headfirst- or fist first. From now on, I will be saying yes to crack.

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