Climbing (there’s always a first time…)

It’s become apparent that some of you actually pay attention. I’ve received several (14 at last count) emails from people asking me to write up both events I mentioned in my Don’t Do It Alone entry.

It’s nice to know you enjoy laughing at me.

What follows is a brief recount of The 1st Time I Indoor Climbed.

Here’s the proper way to climb up the wall: Flat against the wall, much like a leech, with legs out at a 90 degree angle from your body. Become one with the wall and use your legs to push up and your arms merely to locate and hold on to the strategic power spots. Then all you need to do is scoot on up the wall (the wall is your friend!). It’s so easy.

Here’s how I climbed that first time: Ass out & panicked. I used my arms to pull myself up, my toes – ok, my feet - weren’t on the wall (but my locked knees and pale face were pressed firmly on to, hurrah!) & feeling really uncomfortable in the external made-of-plastic diaper other people call a harness. My feet hurt and I discovered I was scared of heights. I kept having visions of falling to my death. On to the big sponges below. And that was all in the first three feet of the climb.

The proper way to come down the wall: When you’ve reached the top and your spotter is ready, simply lean back and assume the position of sitting in a seat. As your partner lets the rope ‘out’ you must descend by slowly pushing yourself (bouncing gently) off the wall.

How I “descended”: Much like the way I went up the wall. The descent is supposed to be smooth, but for some reason it wasn’t. This is because I didn’t assume The Seated Position and instead chose to assume The Starched Starfish Position thus forcing my spotter to bring me down as though I were on a fishing rod. I’m creative that way. I bumped the wall on my way down. With my face.

How to bring other people down the wall: Slowly.

And for this girl: Slowly? NO WAY! I just drop ‘em. Who needs rope, anyway? (& last I checked, “slowly” wasn’t spelled “f.u.n.”)

And…because am such a professional, I argued with the guy at the counter. I was convinced that the reason I couldn’t climb wasn’t because I was a wanker but because he gave me the wrong shoes. I said “they’re too small” and kept repeating it, like I was some kind of deaf person every time he said “they have to be small so that you can grip the wall with your toes”.

Mm. There’s so much humour in the life of a spaz.