Rehab Psych

The last six months or so have been frustrated by injuries - shoulder, knee, hand, elbow... then just when I thought I was back on the road to fitness, another slipped disk. To use an old Scots phrase, I was fair scunnered.

I went to see a new physio who had some new ideas to compliment advice I'd had before, and initial progress was really good. However after a few weeks I got to a bit of a plateau of my own making.

I'm no stranger to injury, and I'm usually pretty good at taking a positive mental attitude to my rehab; but physio sucks at the best of times, and when nerve pain is involved it's excruciating. This is the third time my L5/S1 disk has gone in the space of a couple of years, and I've been finding it hard to push through the pain barrier.

I started casting around the web for inspiration, but UKC and /r/climbing didn't seem to be cutting it; fortunately help was at hand from sources closer to home.

First came the news that Tom "Slab Master" Le Fanu had climbed his first 8a. Next up were grainy pictures of a head-torch 8a+ ascent from rock athlete Jerome Mowat. Then along came the news that Adam "Beast" Brown had also ticked his first 8a.

Wow.

Le Fanu clearly had nothing left to even raise a celebratory smile after La Crema (8a) - photo by Adam Brown

Jerome making his outrageous head-torch ascent of  Brot de Fonol (8a+) - photo by Adam Brown

News of some incredible feat by a top climber is really just that; news. But hearing of friends achievements is something else - you know the work they've put in, the highs and the lows, because you've been there with them.

You can feel the buzz they felt when they first thought "this can go". You can feel the deflation they felt when for the next few attempts it didn't. And you can feel the elation they felt when they clipped the chains.

And as great as those vicarious feelings are, you want it all back for real.

Next morning, two insightful blog posts appeared with some excellent photographs and a bit of an old-school vibe. Ramon "discovering Suirana" with the afore-mentioned team of UK based crankers, and Nicola going back to the world of multi-pitch slabs in Italy. It was particularly useful to see new pictures of Finale... I'm going to be there in a few months time, and it reminded me I want to be fit.

A couple of days later, Jerome also put up a great account of his end to the trip.

Thanks to these guys, I've been back in the basement shower room before work, during lunchtimes and after hours for the last two weeks doing back bends till I think I'm going to vomit and poking around in my lower back and glutes with tennis balls, golf balls and rollers till I feel close to passing out.

And it's working.

I *will* make it back to full fitness before our departure date, with a bit of hard work, gritted teeth, and a little help from my friends.

I'll leave you with a great reply and picture I got from Adam when I mailed him for the lowdown:

The one attached is of us just after we each ticked our projects in a very crazy 2 hour window on the last night of the trip. It was honestly the craziest couple of hours of my life. We'd gone back down to the crag (after a 4 hour siesta!) all feeling weak and lazy and unable even to do the easy bits of our project to get warmed up - I think objectively I gave Tom a 30% chance of getting the tick; me 10% and Jerome (on a different proj) also 10%. Then suddenly it all happened - 30 mins later Tom had ticked his second 8a; then I had done my first; but the fact that we'd both succeeded meant Jerome had to crank in the dark. Instead of being down on his chances (esp since he hadn't even managed the crux move in isolation at that point) he just tied on and did the thing. I think we were all in a state of shock (Fatima and Rachel saw us and I think they thought we were mad!). Psyche like that is definitely contagious...!

Indeed it is, Mr Brown. Indeed it is.

Team Psych after a their night of glory

London

Tower Bridge

Coming into London at 7:30 on a sunny morning, you see a city at peace.

Early risers stroll to the office across London Bridge while behind them the sun rises over Tower Bridge, creating a spectacular silhouette of another time.

Joggers pad along the Thames embankment to the sound of water pushing past concrete. Seagulls cry out as they circle the river looking for food. A boat goes past, creating a wash that swooshes through rotting timbers, perhaps depositing another old clay pipe on the stony bank.

For a time, it's almost enough to make me forget the madness I'm so keen to escape...

A peaceful Thames

... almost.

It's hard to relax in this city - quiet moments are snatched but you always know that chaos is just around the corner.

The traffic will swell and in an hour London Bridge will once more become a teeming mass of suits, streaming out from the station like ants leaving the nest. Desperate to reach their financial factories on time, they probably won't notice the beauty of tower bridge or the contrasting steel and glass buildings shining in the sun. London does that - it blinkers you.

Some will escape the confines of the office for a lunchtime stroll or a run by the river, but most won't - they'll have lunchtime meetings and sandwiches at desks; wasting away lives in the pursuit of a better postcode, a faster car, a bigger bonus, and perhaps a trophy wife... or maybe just - as I did for so long - to blow it all on going out in the evenings.

I arrive at the gym for my physio appointment - many who like a physical challenge are here before work, pumping iron or pounding away on stationary bikes and treadmills under LED lighting, while the sun shines on a beautiful day outside.

It reminds me of myself over the last few years.

The climbing gym was my second home. Pulling on plastic till my fingers blistered, my elbows inflamed and my body ached in pursuit of strength and stamina... yet seldom did I touch rock.

Endless laps of the pool, following the black line, trying to improve speed and endurance... but rarely tasting salt in place of chlorine.

Even on the bike, I spent more time circling Richmond park to see if I was getting faster than I did exploring new places.

Everything became results driven - training for sport climbing grades and triathlon race times. Constantly living for that next great experience, not the good one I could be having today.

The Walkie Talkie building

Looking back, I don't really understand how I fell into this world. I remember the choices that got me here, I just don't know why I took them. It was never an ambition to work in the city - I grew up fishing, mountain biking and hill walking, getting stoned, taking mushrooms and dancing the night away shit-faced on amphetamines and alcohol. Life was about the now, never about the future, and I thought it would always be like that.

I remember laughing at a high school classmate who told me of his plan to come down here, work hard, make his fortune and retire early. To me, back then, it sounded like a lot of effort into something you wouldn't enjoy. As it does now. Somehow, somewhere in between, I lost sight of that.

Yes, on reflection there just aren't enough of the beautiful moments here to justify putting up with the hectic pace. I've made a lot of good friends in this city - and those I will miss dearly - but the rat race? I don't think so.

It's time to go back to being true to myself, living life for the kicks and the creation of memories; spending my energy on having fun... except perhaps this time with less of the drink and drugs.

I'll leave you with one of the best little life philosophy videos I've come across in some time. If I ever question the wisdom of what I'm doing between now quitting my job to get on the road, I'll just have to play this one again.