Different Shoes

It’s 6:14 in the morning.

The waves are dully roaring as they crash into the shore 30 yards away. The air is cool and blowing over your face like a whisper of breath that says “good morning, come join the day.”

The sky is light because the moon is full and the sun is breaking the horizon—unseen because it is behind the city skyline, but it’s reflected to your bivouac on the beach by the hazy smog and the slight fog.

It’s 6:14 in the morning, and you’re waking up to another day in paradise—your paradise.

You don’t want to get out of your sleeping bag because it’s toasty, fuzzy warm.

You want to get out of your sleeping bag because today is great, it’s going to be sunny, and there’s possibility to spare at such an early hour of the morning.

You know you will eat well, be well, and feel well.

Your shoulders ache as you lift the sleeping bag up to push it into the stuff sack. They hurt a little as you fold the military poncho that you use as a ground tarp. The aching pain reminds you of the fun you had yesterday swinging on the rings like a kid, and the people you spent time with as you whiled away your time at the beach. 

You’re careful to stand in the sand you’ve been sleeping on all night. It’s warm, and it feels good on your bare feet.

Bag and backpack packed, you shoulder your bike and walk to the bike path. The sand you haven’t slept on is soft and cold, but the concrete path is firm and warm, and your feet are rewarded for carrying your burden by the tactile beauty of that which is the texture of the beachfront.

Today you don’t know who you will meet, or exactly what you will do. You know a few places you will go and see, like old friends those places are to you already.

There’s the Original Muscle Beach in Santa Monica, and the Pacific Ocean lapping the shore. And of course, the local grocery store. It’s all yours.
You know you will exercise to wake yourself up, and you know you will probably do some light reading as you take in perfect temperatures and a bright, happy sun.

You’ll eat a jalapeño & cheese bagel that you’ll prepare with an avocado and a roma tomato and you’ll eat a banana, too. That’s breakfast. Dinner is up to your whim. That’s later, anyway.

Maybe you’ll talk to some beautiful girls (or guys) today, or maybe you’ll just see some of the regulars at the beach. Either way, someone will smile and say hello.

You’ll ride your bike everywhere and feel good about it.

When the sun sets below the horizon of the sea, when the air grows cold and everyone retreats to their homes to stay warm, or when they go out to party with their friends, you’ll ride a couple miles up the beach and bed down. You’ll be just where you were this morning, and you’ll have a smile on your face because you had a good day, and you’ll know tomorrow will be a good day, too.

Biding Time in Phoenix

It is October 2^nd and I'm still here in Phoenix. I did not think that I would be here this long when I got on a Chinatown bus in Orange County, California, over a month ago.

Yet, here am I now.

I'm undaunted, becoming more fit than I've ever been, and I'm coming to appreciate my Phoenician family in a new way.

Survival of the Most Resilient

Phoenix for a month has been a mixed bag. A blessed journey and a bit of a tribulation.

I witnessed a shooting {BAM!} less than a mile from where I'm living—don't worry mom, I'm safe!—but I don't think anyone was hurt. I get around town by walking because I don't have any transportation. I'm pretty broke, and I really would rather be in Los Angeles. I also stirred up some trouble quite unknowingly and unintentionally in an interpersonal relationship. I've even had some trouble at the rock gym.

Now, I don't want you to think I'm letting this heap of stuff get me down so much as it is propelling me away and (I like to think) forward and toward a brighter future.

All of this is to say, I'm ready to skip town.

I'm going to Los Angeles.

Even with all those negative things I've actually had a great time here. I've reconnected with a lot of great friends that I haven't seen for the better part of a year. And I've made a new friend in my roommate and sponsor, Christian. He and I have many great conversations that precipitate and catalyze personal growth.

Christian is moving to L.A. but before he can do that he has to rent his house out. I'm helping him get it ready, and in the process I'm learning a lot of valuable skills that I'm very happy to acquire. I can now paint like a pro—really, my work is ace—and I have learned some other handy man skills from Christian (he used to do construction and remodeling).

My Dirtbag Workout Plan

The essence of the dirtbag is to compromise everything because of an uncompromising vision. That is to say, one overarching goal, activity or cause is pursued at the expense of everything else. Everything else in your life is compromised in order that that one thing is not compromised.

If you've read this blog you know I've lost my way sometimes, and I even hesitate to call myself a dirtbag in the traditional climbing sense of the word, but it's still closest in accuracy to describing what I'm doing.

Still, dirtbagging can do great things for you by helping you to curtail bad or unsustainable habits. My desire to go do things regardless of my lack of resources (i.e. a car/bike/ride) has helped me become more fit and lose weight and obtain a closer approximation of the body I've always wanted.

I've worn holes in the soles of brand new shoes because I've done a good amount of walking or, as I like to call it, “urban hiking”. In fact, I've walked well over 100 miles in the last month, and with the addition of my frequent running, I'm getting into pretty good shape. I'm even losing weight! I like to think I'm making an “LA. Body”.

On top of the walking and running I've been up to, I also started visiting the rock gym again. I went frequently for a month and my climbing came naturally and felt easier than it had been before. Certainly I was not pushing my personal best grades, but the grades I was climbing were easy and I felt in control. That feeling of mastery is what I think I love about this sport [rock climbing] and any other that I become deeply engaged in.

I also realized that the community was part of what I missed while I was on the road. The friends I have in Phoenix are my original rock climbing family, and as such, they know me in terms of my climbing better than most, so it is they who can encourage me best when they see me progressing, for they know where I have come from.

It's My Rock Climbing Anniversary

I've been climbing for three years, to the month.

When I first went to AZR (Arizona on the Rocks), I could climb V1 (barely). Through the course of 2 years I was able to climb up to V6, indoors and outdoors. Although I can't do that difficult grade right now, I feel more capable and masterful than ever. But more important, I know that my friends who climbed with me for those 2 years also appreciate the progression I've experienced.

Maybe, just maybe, that is the root of power that resides in the idea of family. I'm talking about the special quality of family to be able to appreciate who you are in spite of—and because of—where you have come from. They are (usually) the only ones that have known you your entire life, and if they like you still, that's some pretty strong validation.

I want to thank you if you've been part of my rock climbing family, no matter where or when we met.