Camp5, 1Utama Rockclimbing Gym
Level 5, Skybridge

The opening of Camp5 marked the time to come out of the climber's hibernation I had subjected my body to for the last six months to a year. 

My feet, too accustomed to open-toed shoes, whinged as they were cramped into climbing shoes two sizes too small.  Weighted down by a couple of extra kilos that had not been there before, the muscles which had softened with disuse complained with every pull.  I clambered up the wall with all the grace of a buffalo in a ballarina's tutu.  A few climbs and my fingers could barely curl around the chalk ball, for so fatigued were the muscles in my forearms.

After being goaded by a fellow climber, I tackled the lead wall with a great deal of bravado and the confidence from long-forgotten successes.  For a while, it felt as though I had back that old climbing flow of "water on the rock".  My "mental" shattered into smittereens when I froze on the lead wall barely two meters from the anchor.  It was as if a switch went off and the collected calm that held back the torrent of fear came crashing down like a tidal wave against a rugged coastline.

I felt beatened, but not defeated.  Watch this space.

Okay, so we're erring a little on the late side posting this entry, but hey, I had a wedding to attend - mine!

Isn't it ironic how things often seemed like a great idea at the time of conception and how far from great that same notion becomes when you have to wake up at some ungodly hour on a Sunday, haul your lazy arse out of bed and onto a running track?

That's exactly how I felt on the morning of 18th of December, 2005.  As I reached out to switch off the alarm on my phone, my weary mind lingered on the alluring thought of staying in bed instead.  My thumb caressed the buttons on my mobile phone, blindly typing out a message to M that I had a headache and would not be able to make it to the race.  It hesitated just as it reached the "send" button. 

Of course M would know it was a lie, but he would reply understandingly with a message along the lines of "sure, catch you next time".  Oh it was all so tempting…

Whether it was that fighting spirit within me, the sense of commitment to my friends or something else, I managed to garner enough energy to propel myself into the bathroom.  From there onwards, it was simply a matter of riding on the momentum of being up and about.

M, J, T and S were already at our meeting point by the time I pulled up in the Kelissa.  They appeared ready and rearing to go.  I sighed wearily, if only I could catch half of their enthusiasm, I might be able to batter off the thoughts of crawling back into my warm spot on the bed.  Ah yes, life would be so much better as a cat…

After much warning from friends that I should take it easy leading up to my big day, who would have thought I would somehow manage to injure myself just from walking!  For indeed that was exactly what I did.  I did not fall while racing; I slipped on a spot of concrete slimy from the last rainfall and the accumulated oils from the passing of cars.  How ironic.  Here was my perfect excuse to proclaim an injured knee so I could turn around and head for the comforts of my warm bed, but no, I would press on. 

The first 5km was fairly easy going and my watch informed that I was making good time by the time we hit the first water station.  Hah!  I thought smugly, who needs training?  I was going to hit sub-1hr without it, imagine what I could do if I did train?  It would appear that my visions of a grand finale came far too quickly, for the next 5km was far from a breeze.  We tackled some ominous slopes that would have tested even the best of us. 

Right from the gunshot at the beginning, I never even saw T or S.  M passed me at the water point and J a little after.  I never had a glimmer of hope of catching up with them.  V was the only one I managed to keep pace with and for a while, I thought he had dropped off my radar entirely as well.  As we rounded the corner near where we had parked the cars, I recognized the home stretch.  Elated, I felt an extra burst of energy and increased my pace into loping canter.  Fed by the encouragement of passing onlookers who cheered me on, I pulsed like an electron trying to escape its orbit of a neuron. 

There is something about the mind that brings defeat upon itself, for as swift as my spirit had risen at the thought of finishing I deflated like a balloon without a stopper when I saw that final bend rounding up onto the field.  The little turn had lengthened the track by no more than another hundred meters, but my mind had already decided my legs were giving way.  My pace dropped to a jog and I finished up just behind V with a timing of about 70 minutes.  So much for that sub-1hr finish I had so arrogantly believed I would achieve.

All in all, it was a good race and a pleasant way to end the running season for the year. 

They say that when times are tough, get inspiration from the moments in the past where you have persevered, endured, and survived with flying colours…

When I first started rock climbing, I nearly decked a guy in the gym.  I have to say I’m glad that he was kind enough to let me continue belaying him despite his near disaster.  The rope burn has healed and there are no reminder scars from that incident; there are no remnants to recall that incident except in the memory of the few who were present that night.

And, of course, the memory I still carry…

My first outdoor rock climbing experience was frightening, but exhilarating, but the one thing I took away that day was that I knew I had to climb again.  I’m glad that that same person I nearly decked in the gym was kind enough to drag me outdoors to live the feeling of climbing on limestone.

I remember meeting a girl who taught us how to climb multi-pitch.  There was a day when it rained and we were all huddled under the shelter waiting for the rain to stop.  She was talking to some of the others about her rack and I remember feeling so impressed as I looked over it.  I thought to myself, I’m going to have my own rack and I’m going to know the names of all that stuff.  One of my friends still has a picture of me examining one of her draws with deep fascination.  That was the picture that caught me in concentrated thought about what I was to become.

I also remember standing at the base of Damai wall watching a guy climbing a 6A route.  I stood rooted to that spot, looking up in awe, thinking, “Wow, I’d never be able to climb that…”

But in my heart, I knew I wanted to.  I wanted desperately to be able to climb that.  I remember attempting that route after some encouragement from another friend.  I was trying to lead on my new gear and I got scared and bailed halfway.  He just said, “That’s okay, another time.” 

These days, even without regular climbing, I can still climb that route…

I used to write a lot about climbing.  I even created things that never happened.  Eventually they did happen – not all of them and not necessarily the way I wrote it, but it happened in some form or other.

I remember making plans to complete a 6C as part of my new year’s resolution.  By March, I’d completed my first 7A.  I was afraid to believe it was possible, but I desired it so much, I lived and breathed that video of me climbing the crux sequence in my mind’s eye. 

These are what 7A dreams are made of… and that’s why I believe, if you want it bad enough, you’ll find a way to make it real.

I’ve often been asked what it was about climbing that kept me coming back for more.  I would have to say that it was through climbing that I discovered what the real strength within me was.  It’s a sport often mistaken to require only power and strength; and it was thought that if you didn’t have either of these, you could not climb.

What inspires me to continue climbing is that it epitomizes the power we have to make our dreams real if we set our minds upon it.  It is the articulation of converting what appears to be visually impossible into something that is physically achievable.  We can take these experiences and apply them to our everyday troubles in life.  If I can complete that route in climbing, I can face this problem in life.  It helps us to build the mental mettle we need to face even the toughest situations in life because our mind has been strengthened through climbing.

For me, climbing as a sport provides an all-round mix of physical, mental and relaxation.  When I am climbing, it takes me away from the daily pressures of life, providing true relaxation from the hectic pace of city life.  When the mind is concentrating on controlling fear all the other distractions of daily life fade into the background.  The physical exertion from climbing builds up my strength and my confidence and the raised levels of endorphins elevates my mood. 

Probably the best part of climbing is that I am exercising without realizing it.  On the threadmill or in the gym, all I can think about is how long I’ve been there.  When I’m climbing, I only realize the time has passed when the sky starts to grow darker or when my tummy rumbles.