the climb.

There’s something so beautiful about the sharp rocks jutting up towards the sky. I always stop to marvel at its beauty before I attempt to face the rock in a battle of strength.
It smiles at me menacingly and I know that I am up to the challenge. I squeeze my bare feet into shoes; shoes that have molded to fit me. I adjust the belts, hear thewhooosh of the ropes and turn to face the mountain.
“On belay,” Soren says with a smile, and I grip the rock with clammy hands.
Rock climbing has always spoken to me in a way no other outdoor sport has. It requires the upmost dedication, perseverance, and is not to be taken lightly. One false move by you or your partner…it’s over. Or at least the ground will break your fall.
It’s a very focused sport, requiring an energy and state of mind unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
Soren taught me; he holds the ropes with firm hands and smiles up at me, coaching me on where to go next.
It’s terrifying, invigorating, satisfying, and beautiful. All at once.
My arms ache and my legs shake with each effort to hoist myself higher and higher.
I want to be at the top.
Very rarely do I actually make it. In truth I am a novice at the art of rock climbing, yet I always strive to make it.
Occasionally I will stretch my hand out to the top of the jutted rock. My fingers may be numb and my knees may be bleeding, but I do it. I reach the top.
To turn and see the whole world smiling back.