Saturday, January 23, 2010


I used to be a rock climber.

I think at this point in my life I'm pretty secure in using the words "used to." I'm too fat and out of practice to ever go back to that life again. Maybe.

I've climbed Devil's Tower, in the Needles/Black Hills near Mt. Rushmore in South Dakota, in Yosemite, in Colorado, and in bunches of gorges and crags here in the east.

Some of my favorite memories are of sun warmed granite, bloody knuckles, trusted partners, and near-paralyzing fear.

While talking about those days sometimes make me feel like the middle-aged washed up high school football player re-living his glory days long past his prime, one thing remains for me: Even if I never make it back there, I've done those things. Nothing can take that away.


Post a Comment

<< Home