That's a Sport?

The youngest of my children has been a surprise since T-9 months, when I found out he was on the way. Sometimes, the surprise is one I could do without -- like the time when he was 7 or 8, and he called 911 to scare his sister -- then ran away when the police actually showed up at the door. Sometimes, the surprise is a happy one -- like the time he won the 4th grade spelling bee, or the time I returned from an interminable afternoon at the DMV to find he had baked a banana cream pie. Sometimes, the surprise is just a surprise -- like when he demonstrated his ability to say the entire Greek alphabet. He can always be trusted, however, to pursue the quirky, the offbeat, the unusual. So, it probably shouldn’t be a surprise to me that when I told him he had to participate in a sport, the one he chose was . . . surprising. One that I hadn’t even realized was a sport.

As it turns out, climbing is indeed a sport, with teams, practices, meets, and even seasons. Providentially for Luc’s career, our new home is within 5 miles of one of the most established climbing gyms in the East. Luc’s first competition was on Saturday, and so he and I left the house at the unspeakable (for him) hour of 7:30 a.m. to drive to the appropriately named Rockville. For the uninitiated, it may come as a surprise that there were no actual rocks involved. The climbing walls are indoors and covered with colorful, man-made projections that made me feel like I had dropped into a cartoon alien world.

I expected to see a dancing bunny advertising Froot Loops at any minute.

Mostly spectators, waiting for the climbing to begin.

For Lucas, the importance of topping a wall was completely erased by the importance of hanging out with his buddies. 

  It’s autumn, which means that it is bouldering season. Bouldering, for those who, like me, are unfamiliar with the sport, is climbing without ropes. It involves not only a great deal of strength, but also technical skill and experience.

Luc working on a wall. He was supposed to use only the orange holds. The older climbers could use only the green. Picture trying to reach the top that way. I actually saw several boys achieve that feat (see below).

See the green hold on the top right? That's the one he has to touch with both hands.

        The walls are not terribly high -- although the mats underneath are definitely necessary -- but they are usually tilted in what seems to me to be the wrong direction for climbing ease. Saturday’s competition had three levels based on age, and for each group, there were 7 or 8 routes, called “problems.” Competitors had four hours to try as many problems as they could. They received points for reaching the top and also for something called “bonus holds,” which I still don’t understand. Each climber could try a wall as many times as he wanted. 

Don't they realize that if they tilted the walls the other way, bouldering would be much easier?

Some of the routes, particularly for the oldest group, seemed simply impossible. The strength and grace of some of these older (16 - 18-year-old) climbers was impressive and flat-out fun to watch. But what was most surprising about the competition was how difficult it was. The most common sound heard in the gyn was the “thwack” of climbers hitting the mats as they fell off the wall. My unprofessional estimate is that about 10 percent of attempted climbs resulted in success. Some walls, I never saw anyone top, and many kids didn't top a single wall. I gained a new respect for kids who want to participate in a sport where victory is so elusive and so painfully won. I may bemoan the digital generation for its short attention span and addiction to immediate reward, but none of that was evident in Rockville last Saturday.

The sound of climbers slapping the mat was matched by the sight -- and smell -- of the chalk they use to keep their hands from slipping. 

Luc did finally reach the top of this wall.  Of course, I had put away the camera by that time,
so this shot will have to do.