I went rock climbing yesterday. Having done this once before, I thought I was ready.
I did a couple of push-ups in preparation. Watched a YouTube video to review my knots. I was ready.
I passed the belaying test with flying colors (the gym likes to make sure you know how to tie yourself in and keep your climbing partner alive). My running tights passed as appropriate climbing attire. The heights were just as fun and exhilarating as I remembered.
It was fabulous.
Until my second climb. On my second climb, my fingers began refusing to grip things. By the fourth climb, I was finding ways to wedge my arm into cracks and wrap around holds just so I could avoid grabbing things with my hands.
Today, I can’t write properly. Gripping a steering wheel to turn my car sends pain signals up my wrists. I’m feeling rather dehydrated, but lifting a glass of water sounds like way too much effort.
Yes, I’m a complete wimp. Yes, maybe I should just go back to my running shoes. Yes, I did spend an hour scrolling through harnesses and climbing shoes today.