American Bouldering Series in Boston

I decided to go climbing on Wednesday and found over half the holds in the bouldering section had been taken down. “When will they set the new bouldering routes?” I asked on my way out. “They should be up by Friday.” the guy said. “There is a competition on Sunday”. My budding interest in rock climbing prompted me to question how those competitions work. I was just curious and had no intention of actually entering such an event. “Well you need to register by 9:00 if you want to enter the youth competition, or 11:00 for the adult divisions. Being 18 years old it is up to you.” I gol’ed*, he thought I was asking because I wanted to enter. “Oh no, I don’t consider myself quite at the competitive level, I just am curious to how the scoring works, and what the scene is like at one of those things.”

As I was driving home, pumping the Christmas Carols, I thought more about the preposterous idea of clumsy me in a USAC sanctioned bouldering competition. I had been looking for something to fill the void of athletic competition ever since my last game of pick-up basketball at the Lincoln County YMCA over a month before. Here is what I decided: I would head back to the climbing gym on Friday, check out the new routes and only then would I decide whether I should spend my Sunday afternoon watching football or ripping my hands apart.

I waited until around 9:00 Friday night to head on over to Rock Spot climbing. I just didn’t want to be there as twelve year old girls climbed routes that I could only dream of climbing. My pride was still sore from the last time that happened. Of course that’s a story for another time. Anyways, the new routes were up and I was excited to explore. No longer than ten minutes into the session, my left tricep started burning. I had to call it a night, it appeared I pulled or strained my tricep. It hurt to lift my arm. “Well, did you warm up before you started climbing?” Umm no? Lesson learned. My recon mission, to use computer geek lexicon, was an Epic Fail.

It was too late though, my heart was set on entering this competition. I iced my arm the rest of the weekend, and probably consumed my weight in ibuprofen. One question remained: Youth or Adult division? If I entered the Youth division I would either beat a bunch of thirteen year olds, or more likely, get my butt handed to me by a bunch of thirteen year olds. Neither option really appealed to me. I have a reputation to uphold. Adult division it is.

So it turns out that adult climbers that are not amazing at climbing do not enter competitions. I probably should have seen that coming. Nonetheless, I was entered, warmed up and ready to go. I was partnered with Brandon, from Rhode Island. I was to keep score for him, and he was to keep score for me. A symbiotic relationship you might say. Let the climbing began!

I had a rough start to the day. After falling three times on my first attempted route, Brandon realized that I was not exactly what you would call a “contender”. That’s when Brandon really started to be cool. First, he gave me one of his chalk bags, and then he started giving me advice and encouragement. Some commonly heard phrases included: “Try the one above you left hand” “Keep your body control” “you got it man” ‘There ya go!” What a guy! The next two hours were filled with heartbreak (slipping off the final hold of the same route six times) and ecstasy (pretty much any time I completed a problem). 2:30 and it was time to hand in the score sheets.

What place did I come in you ask? Not important. (Last place, by over 4,000 points). I got a “competitor” ribbon and a hand shake from the award ceremony guy. What more could I ask for? Overall, it was a good day at the Rock Spot.

*gol: giggle out loud. I guess it would make more sense to write g’ed ol. Whatever.