On belay!

I’m so thankful I became a father, or rather that fatherhood was thrust upon me. Even after a couple of decades have flowed under the bridge, it’s still challenging, fascinating, frustrating, rewarding. My daughter, Aubrey, is home from college for break and we have been heading off to the climbing gym every day until our hands throb and we say “i’m done. Maybe just one more easy one.”

I love the social aspect of the sport, the time standing around waiting for muscles to recover, the importance of checking the other’s harness for safety, the endless knot tying and the talking about the climb, which seems to lead to just talking about life. About Aubrey’s plans for school and the life ahead of her, my boring stories about cars with AM radio and no AC, and our uneasy relationship with cats. And then we shut up and climb. Aubrey is a bit better than me and seems to pick things up quickly.

She has a good body sense, where I’m kind of stiff and boxy going up the wall. And over the week, she has become a patient mentor. I talk about a hold, that one right up by the smudge mark on the wall, the one where I slipped off and fell onto the rope. And she agrees that it’s hard but suggests a different way to turn my hips and notes my foot work is getting better, a little correction and a little praise. And I value the praise, because I am the learner.

When one really tries hard at something, it is standing naked before the world. Getting dropped on the last climb of the bike race in the pouring rain, out on some farm road five miles from the car full of warm clothes and snacks.

Stepping onto the sidewalk at mile 16 of the marathon as the last molecules of glycogen evaporate into the november chill.

But leading up to those moments, we spend hours in practice with our peers, and we come to know each other. We have the bad days, and we have seen the other fly too close to the sun. And we shrug,and say something kind, or have a laugh, but there is a certain kinship in sharing our greatest efforts, our failures, the challenges we set before ourselves, just out there on the road or trail, or track, when nobody else is watching. 

I got into the climbing because it seemed fun and especially because I wanted to spend some time doing stuff with Aubrey. We raced bikes together when she was younger and I always appreciated that bond. Trying to not be the coach, but rather the team mate and sometimes mechanic. Mostly on the long rides home we discussed dinner options and funny things we saw during the race, but never much about bike racing. Which is fine with me. So, I wanted something to fill that place now that she is off to college and climbing with friends, so I jumped right in and found I had zero natural aptitude for the sport, but plenty of youthful zeal, which was not really helpful but still counts for something.

And I strain and stretch my tight hips and try to get my foot up on the hold, and grunt in some ungainly position as I go ever higher. Aubrey is on the rope and keeping me safe if I fall. As I start I can hear her voice, and sometimes she suggests a foothold I don’t notice, or reminds me to take a little break. Then higher up I can’t hear so much, so I just grind on and either get up to the top or blow up and quit. 

And we talk about how it went, and check our knots and make sure the other is safe. In this little eddy in our lives before Aubrey finds work somewhere and gets busy with her life and calls me on father’s day. I love this moment of me being the learner and the sweet moments in a young person’s life when I can still be dad, but also just be John. The John who makes mistakes and tried his best, and ultimately was the father you had, for better or worse. And for me, selfishly, that is all the easter treats I need this spring.

Happy Easter, readers.