I paid for a six-month membership tonight. I don't think I'll be here that long, but getting things squared away with my family is taking forever, and you get a huge price break if you pay for that many months in advance, about half what it costs if you pay every month. That meant I had to fill out a bunch of new paperwork. The guy working the front desk happened to be Lance, one of the new gym owners. He made an attempt to make small talk with me, which I didn't warm up to very well, because I'm stupid that way. Must work on being more sociable. I did ask him about his new gym, though. They are having the climber's club meeting there in a couple of weeks, so everybody can get a sneak preview of what the new space will be like. The ceiling of the current gym allows the routes to be about 22 feet high, he says the new place will be twice that. I am imagining doing a gym route that will be over forty feet long. That will totally r0x0r.
True to my resolve, I stuck with doing the easier routes tonight. I told Kevin about my plan to try to be good at the 5.7s and 5.8s, rather than cheating my way up 5.9s I'm not really qualified for. I said I was still more than willing to try to help him find a way up the tough routes, if he wanted to do them. He took me up on that, but there was an ugly side effect I hadn't counted on. He finds it much more difficult doing a route if I won't do it with him. If I'm having a good night, then that spurs him on to climb better than he normally would. Hmmm, now I have to think about this.
We got side-tracked for awhile watching this little girl climb, who is only five years old. She is at a horrible height disadvantage, so she has to climb through overlapped routes where there are many multi-colored holds close enough together for her to reach. It was the KY00T3ST thing. She wasn't the only kid there that night, and Kevin warned me that I should cut it out with the "hells" and "damns." Yes, I still do that in the heat of the moment. It's much easier for me to edit them out of my writing.
On my last route of the night, I floundered off of a 5.7 I've finished many times before. One of those times was earlier that very evening. Honestly, I think a lot of it was that I was hungry and didn't have the energy. I've been fine-tuning my calorie intake, and I guess I overdid it.
When I got home, I weighed myself for the first time in a dog's age. I am at 161, which makes me six pounds over my high school weight. I can live with that, but I have to be diligent.
I fell asleep right after that, so it's been many hours since I was at the gym, and I don't feel especially sore. Whew. Maybe I'll make it through the week.
I am really looking forward to breaking in my next-door neighbor. I hope he gets pants-soilingly terrified. Not because I want to poke fun, but because I'll be genuinely envious. I want to live vicariously through his terror. He said he's afraid of heights, so I have high hopes.
I wish I could still get terrified. Like any drug, I've built up a tolerance to it, and I can't get "high" anymore. Now I have to take just as much as I always did simply to "maintain." To get new thrills I'd have to switch to harder drugs.