belay on

It seems like every time I want to publish a blog, I get it written in long hand and then it sits, waiting to be reborn into a digital replica of the original and made available.  I wrote this blog on a plane while flying to North Dakota last weekend to be with family.  So it may seem a bit dated to our friends that were there.

Reader’s Guide-

Quick draw: 2 carabineers connected by a piece of webbing. Designed to keep you from falling and close to the rock.

Bolt:  Pieces of metal, bent at 90 deg., with a hole in one side and the other side is attached to the mountain with heavy duty rock screws. 

On Belay?/ Belay On:  The question posed by the climber to check if his partner is ready to begin belaying.

“Belay on,” said Mike, as I looked at the rock face in front of me.  It was one of those gorgeous blue bird days, with soft sunlight that glowed gently all around.  The slight breeze captured the loose chalk that floated from my fingers as they came to rest on the smooth rock.  It swirled and danced before disappearing.  My eyes quickly brought into focus the first bolt, a gut checking 15 feet above.  Delicately I moved flush with the rock, coaxing it to reveal the route.  The whisper roar of the river below us, called me upward.  “Its alright, the holds will be there.  They were shaped when the Earth first began to walk, for a moment like this.  Climb.”  With a quick glance back to Mike I reached skyward, hooked my fingers, and began the journey…

The day was special in many ways.  It was my first time climbing real rock in almost 2 years and nearly 3 years since I had led a route.   I suppose the past year has given birth to many firsts for me.  First time I had to confront the possibility that the woman I love the most in the world may not celebrate a 30^th birthday.  First time going to a hospital more than once a year and not for something that I had torn, broken, sprained, and cut on my own body.  First…

Carefully, I reached up with my right hand, stretching my quick draw towards that first bolt.  The first piece of security.  It is always the first that is the hardest mentally.  Knowing that the only thing that is going to stop my fall is the ground 15 ft below or, if the sharp misshapen boulders failed me, the river an additional 20 feet further down has my back for sure.  Click. The carabineer gate snaps closed, securing itself to the rock. Click.  The rope is securely attached to the other end of the quick draw.  Safe…

Safety.  I luxury I have enjoyed little, as 27 stitches, 9 broken bones, a shredded ACL, a damaged MCL, and a peanut M&M sized chunk of bone in my shoulder can all attest to.  A year ago Sonja and I found our first piece of pro.  Cancer found.  Click.  Cancer and kidney removed. Click.  Climb higher, its taken care of and finished.  We got this…

Higher I climbed, the next 20 ft and 2 more bolts a blur of movement.  Click.  On rock.  Click.  On rope.  Rest.  Repeat  Around 30 ft up, the puppies started getting worried about me.  Kota began to bark and whine for me to come down, as I grew smaller and smaller.  I was almost there.  2 more bolts.  Left hand up. Right leg finding a purchase higher.  Click.  Click.  One more…

Just one more the doctor told us.  One more scan, vial of blood, bottle of contrast to ingest, they said.  Then one more week of waiting for results, never really knowing the outcome.  One more time living our lives fuller, climbing higher, while waiting for one more…

I can see the top now.  One more bolt, a quick rest on a generous ledge, and then glory.  Friends shouted encouragement from below, even Kota manned up and looked excited.  There it is, within sight but out of reach as I was stuck.  High above the ground I froze.  No longer did the wall reveal itself or the river whisper courage to my heart.  The wall had gone silent.  40 ft up the gravity of my situation came crashing home. (Oh, puns!)  My forearms began to shake as my grip became less and less secure…

“We want you to go see a doctor in Bethesda, Maryland,” intoned our doctor as Sonja and I glanced at each other.  The garish fluorescents light, rarely duplicated outside of hospitals, became dimmer.  “We are not really sure what it is,” or “How we can get a solid hold of it, and this is the best option.”  Our grip started to shake a bit as we processed the news.  Is it still a vacation if you spend most of the time waiting in a hospital?  We were stuck, playing the wait game.  3 days later we knew.  Bethesda had found the elusive handhold.  Through aggressive surgery, they would remove bad tissue from the remaining kidney, in hopes of leaving a fully functioning kidney behind.  We could wait it out, but the doctors recommended against it as we still had the chance to save the other kidney.  If the partial failed, I suppose there is value in encouraging people to check yes in the donor box…

Stuck. My arms began cramping and my leg shook.  I can not stay here.  There has to be another handhold.  Rapidly my eyes began scanning the rock.  Seeking the tell tale chalk stains left over from past climbers that mark the next step.  And it was there.  Just out of reach, an aggressive puzzle of a move, was a hold.  Was I willing to trust it, myself, the gear, my climbing partner?  It had to be yes, and with a failing legs and outstretched hand, my fingertips found purchase.  Trust…

“Partial” said Sonja.  “Are you sure?” was my somber response.  “Yes, what happens after is for a later conversation.”  And this is where we found our next handhold.  We meet with our doctor soon and we will begin planning how we reach the next “bolt.”  Maybe we are taking a risk, stepping into an fathomless void that may not be safe.  Its good though.  Its beauty, pain, joy and uncertainty.  It is life together.  Thank you friends for answering, “Belay on,” as we take the first step.

Click.  Click.  I was at the top.  I stood up and looked down at my friends.  I marveled at how they did not look out of place here, rather reflective extensions of the natural beauty surrounding us.  The moment reminding me of why we do life together.  As I took the first step off the ledge, I breathed in the memory and held it as my foot landed in the void.

belay on.