We finally made it outside in the scorching heat and I felt at home.
Less with a bang.
More with a soft, rediscovery of a platform I’m wanting to explore in a different way than before.
For those used to writing about the weight of depression, happiness seems hard to define as something solid.
So I managed to lead one and a half routes.
Wait, one and a half?
Things I learned in Fontainebleau:
I am not good at bouldering.
I have a hilarious bouldering face.
I am really not good at bouldering.
I can’t even believe that a few weeks ago we were able to go out bouldering, able to play around in the sunshine without freezing our fingers off. (I’m still a little scared of falling, FYI).
Deep breaths, chilly toes, cold climbing sessions. March has been strange but it’s also been very beautiful.
After months of (ongoing!) ankle recovery at indoor walls, we’ve navigated our way around the snowy Spring days and managed to find ourselves some time in the sun; time to finally test out the mountain of gear we have stashed away.
Recently, it’s been very apparent that I am stressed.
I mean, I think I am stressed quite a lot of the time actually. There’s always something a little out of the ordinary happening in my life and it’s now at the point where these out of the ordinary things have become quite ordinary.