The world lockdowns, the countryside goes quiet, the animals become bolder, the birds seem to sing louder.
With some spare time on my hands, well a little bit of time, a new baby tends to suck most of the time away. I decided to make an attempt to think about my climbing, with as much of an objective perspective as possible.
I have two very similar tendencies or preferences if you wish. I say to my wife, I’m going training, this means going to my shed for an hour or so, sometimes a little more, here I listen to techno, I do a few dead hangs on increasingly smaller holds, a few assisted pull ups, standing on a bucket, then I do three (warm up) problems in escalating difficulty, if I flash them all I move onto three harder problems, one of which was a project for several months, basically these are three maximal effort problems. After that I try one of maybe two on-going projects, I fail to complete the projects, both of which are over a year old. Then I go back to the house.
Outside I mostly go to one of three or four same venues and try and fail on one of my four or so projects in the area. Occasionally I make progress, but if I’m honest I’m some way from finishing them off. Now and again, a few times a year, I clean and climb a FA, grade wise I look for 7’s, if the FA is a 7B+ it might take a half a dozen or more sessions, less if it’s easier. To be fair on myself I do sometimes finish a harder project, more often it will be a FA. It’s just that the last time I did this seems some time ago now, maybe it’s what happens as you get older or maybe I like the process too much or maybe I’m just lazy.
It’s clear my training and bouldering is limited, maybe not in imagination and dedication, but in terms of breadth it is limited. My training I suspect if analysed by a professional isn’t even training. However I justify to myself that I am in fact training for circumstances that I encounter in reality, for example a single boulder project, isolated near no warm ups, its often cold. So my ‘training’ in the shed is I think specific at least. This specificity is revealed when I try and do something broader, like a long boulder problem or visits a bouldering wall with blobs and compression and roofs and not a 45-degree angle with small holds in sight. In these contexts I’m rubbish.
So I ask myself what do I really want from my climbing and training. I think I like doing what I do, it’s a habit, it’s a routine and it’s a comfort, it’s a meditation and sometimes a philosophy. It’s also an embodied practice; I’ve been doing more or less the same thing for twenty years. But and it’s a big but, I would like to finish one, at least one of my projects.
Next time I have some spare time on my hands and I don’t go to my shed to train, or drive to a project and fail, I will try and write up some ‘objectives’ or some ’thoughts’
So I moved to France as a EU citizen in 2017, made a family, got married, and had a baby. As a family it will now be very difficult, maybe impossible to contemplate the idea of moving back to the UK. Family members from the UK and friends will now only be able to visit, with visas I guess. I never imagined this curtailed of freedom would materialise. I never imagined a hysteric myopia would fracture a sense of European community one that may have never been an ideal, may never have satisfied all the people, but surely the ‘people’ could have seen it was for the best for the most.
Ah well, goodbye England, Wales, Scotland and N Ireland and for those that voted leave I hope you are happy with the scumbag Etonians you so faithfully arsenic.
Down by the river. A large mouse crawls out of the undergrowth oblivious to my presence as I sit motionless. Over the summer spiders have colonised the cracks and holes in the rock, brambles and ferns hang over the lip of the boulder. Out of the half dozen or so moves that I tried I couldn’t do any of them. Is this a meditative practice or a huge waste of time…I expect I will never know.
Today I decided I would introduce our chickens to some philosophy. I wasn’t really sure where to start, after all it’s a broad subject. Context is everything, so in the end I thought I would start with Satre, after all they are French chickens. I’ve been thinking a little bit about context and wondering if ‘reading philosophy to chicken’ is performance art?
I tell Ambre I’m going to read some philosophy to the chickens, she says ‘can I come’, she’s six.
What Is Subjectivity, Jean Paul Satre. Verso 2016.
I began with this; The true problem is, in fact , that of knowing how, through an objective knowledge of the real, we who exist subjectively can transcend ourselves in order to have a relationship with reality.
The chickens seemed quite interested, I feel they must in a chicken kind of way, have a daily existential crisis. I look forward to reading to them again.