Old sports. New aches.

Baseball glove

It was the week of doing sports-that-I-did-a-lot-years-ago-but-stopped-and-boy-am-I-sore-after-trying-to-relive-former-glory. My back still hurts from it.

First was climbing – on real cliffs – outdoors. On real rock. Thing about real rock is: it’s hard. As in, I banged my knee, and only realized later that night, after I got up to leave, that It Hurts.

It was better in a couple of days though.

It had been about eight years since I climbed outside. But it all came back, like riding a bicycle. I didn’t lead anything, I let Erich do that. I did top-rope his routes though, which were about 5.8 or 5.9 in difficulty (which is really not all that difficult in the climbing world).

Things I can still remember to do without killing myself or my partner: tie in, belay, clean gear off the route. Those things are easy and I’ve done them in the gym in the intervening years. Skills that required a little more searching of the memory banks were: securing myself so that I can clean an anchor, safely setting up the rope at anchor so my belayer can lower me, setting up a rappel, and rappelling itself (whee!).

We did three routes total after work Wednesday, on a sunny cliff that catches the evening light on Mount Wells. Those three routes were enough to give me sore trapezoids and forearms for two days. I loved every minute of it.

Best of all, I was climbing with the guy who first taught me how to climb sixteen years ago, when we were both living in Regina, SK. It was delightfully strange, both of us sixteen years older, but still being just who we are.

Well, I think we’ve both mellowed out a lot since then. Which made it even nicer.

Second was playing softball, which I did Sunday at a nice diamond near the house of Lauri, a colleague of mine, and her husband Chris. They invited a bunch of friends co-workers and family for a Labour Day Weekend ball game and BBQ and they couldn’t have picked a better day.

I had nearly forgotten how much I used to love playing ball in the summer sun. I practically grew up playing ball. After I graduated from high school I played on a fairly competitive beer league for a couple of years. We had actual practices and even won a tournament or two. I have a pretty good throwing arm, I can field really well, but I never did get proficient at hitting the ball.

Just before I went over to Lauri and Chris’s I had tea with Roger and Jim, plus friends Trevor and Ken. We were talking about how people who play team sports as youngsters (or who played music in bands or orchestras, or who sang in choirs) seem to be better at forming relationships. I avowed that I never was great at team sports, but I did sing in choirs. It wasn’t until I got out on the ball field and started throwing the ball, making a few outfield plays that I remembered the fun I had practicing and playing with the team when I was a young adult.

Thing about softball is: you can form teams and just play and have fun. Lauri and Chris host a lot of international students in their home, and there were a couple of Chinese and Korean students, plus some friends who are recent immigrants from Russia, who had never played before.

We formed into two teams: the Hot Dogs (theirs) and the Slurpees (mine). The Slurpees – well – we, uh, sucked. I think we scored maybe 3 or 4 runs, while the Hot Dogs scored about 20.

But we had a blast. And that was all that mattered.

Photo by Brian Lary

 

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Beginning the ascent

Mystic BeachSeveral times in the past three weeks my mouse has hovered over the “submit” button for another fall marathon.

Each time, a little voice in my head says: “Wait until after your Half Marathon in May. Don’t you want to start climbing again? Remember – you don’t want to climb and train for a marathon at the same time…”

Climbing, hiking, trail running – getting out of the city and off the beaten path. It’s what I long to do, but it means a different level of commitment than training for a road race.

It’s a lifestyle change, is what it is.

Road races are – well – urban, and therefore populated. One of the things I really like about the Vancouver Marathon/Half Marathon is the sheer number of participants and spectators. There is always someone cheering you on, always someone to pass going up to Prospect Point (even for a slow runner like me), always someone holding a sign that says “Run like a Kenyan!” There are entertainment stations with music and dance, and usually the Hash House Harriers with a beer table somewhere along the way.

Climbing/hiking/trail running is more isolated. Wild. A little bit risky. A little – on the edge. It brings you into closer contact with your climbing partner(s). It’s more intimate. There’s no crowd cheering you to the finish line, announcing your name. At best there’s a notation in a guidebook, or a scribble in a summit register, and some scrapes and bruises for bragging rights.

This hit home to me as I scrambled around gearing up this morning for a little 5k hike from China Beach to Mystic Beach and back this afternoon. I located my little Adventure first aid kit, an extra layer, emergency rain gear, fuel, water, map (not that I needed one).

As I rummaged through my gear stowed in my locker downstairs, I heard my physiotherapist’s voice in my head saying: “Your toe joint is healing well, you should be able to start climbing again this spring.”

I want that thrill of going into the back country again. I want to be at a campsite, climbing gear spread out, consulting the guidebook, deciding with my partner what to take (one rope or two? Full rack or save weight and leave a few pieces?). I want to share a beer at the end of the day with friends who have literally held my life in their hands at the end the rope.

It’s time again to begin the ascent.

Photo: Mystic Beach, April 5, 2010, taken by Tori Klassen with iPhone using the Best Camera app.

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Sport sponsorship for the rest of us?

Here’s an idea – please tell me if it’s been done before: why don’t more sports companies sponsor individual run-of-the-mill non-elite average athletes?

I don’t mean picking someone with talent and paying them to do their sport full-time, with a phalanx of coaches, physiotherapists and sport psychologists.

I mean picking somebody who is passionate and committed – but otherwise ordinary – and providing them with more resources to achieve their goals in return for some participation in a marketing campaign.

For instance: a completely average weekend warrior, consistent 10a or 10b climber with a job and a mortgage and maybe a coupla kids – gets a rope and some pieces of pro and some shoes and a new harness and the marketing campaign (including broadcast, print, social and earned media) follows them on their way to their objective for the year – whether it’s sending a 10c lead in Joshua Tree or a multi-day technical scramble in the Rockies.

Another example: a mid- or back-of-the-pack runner gets shoes, gear, entry fees, clinics paid for the duration of the contract in return for their story and for the occasional shill for the manufacturer.

This would be different from your run-of-the-mill “send us your story and we’ll draw from a hat” contest – it would be a complete sponsorship with pretty much all that entails – contracts and all. Not that I really know all that sponsorship of this type entails, I’m just blue-skying here.

The selling hook is not that these athletes will ever be able to set a world record at the Kona Ironman, or bag a first ascent of and epic climb – or even that they would qualify for Boston Marathon. The selling proposition is the sport equivalent of the Joe-the-Plumber phenomenon without the politics.

The selling hook is – these people are you and I. They have family and jobs and set modest (to some) stretch goals. They get blisters and they give up parties on nights before long runs and they sometimes leave their families to train, then are too tired to haul out the BBQ when they get home. They know they’ll never be Lynn Hill or Lori Bowden (and I’m not for a moment suggesting sports companies should not sponsor these athletes!) – but they are inspiring nevertheless.

The little guys can sell sports gear too you know.

04.12.09

Photo by zingersb

And just in case anyone at Mammut, FiveTen, Sugoi, New Balance, Patagonia, Mountain Hard Wear, Kelty, or Lululemon is really interested in this idea, I’m – er – available – ahem! Just email me here.

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