Between a Rock and a Hard Place

There was a time in my life when I considered myself a mountaineer. I mean, I did once spend a few weeks during the summer in the Rockies. And last winter I skied in the Andes. And hiked up a glacier. And when I was in the Pyrenees I slept in a one-man tent with two men, one pillow, and a bottle (or seven) of vodka...But that's another story. Yes, I was a self-proclaimed mountain-(wo)man. That is until Monday.

The gym at the school has a giant rock wall and post-workout I somehow stumbled in to a harness and on to a rope. I should have known from the start that I was destined for failure. First of all, I'm pretty sure my spotter/instructor was Mathlete/Badass MC Kevin G. from Mean Girls. I'm sure he enjoyed the lumpy harnessed view of my rear as I struggled above him. But that wasn't all he had to enjoy.

I am too short for climbing sports. The pegs on the rock wall on are spaced for a person of average height and proportion. If you've had the pleasure of laying eyes on me, you know I don't quite fit that description. If you haven't had the pleasure of laying eyes on me, picture a miniature pear trying to climb up a rock wall. I'm serious.

I could get one leg up (yes!) and then the other (YES!!!) But as far as reaching upward to grab a higher peg, I fell about three inches short every time. Not to be discouraged, I would jump a little. While flying through the air I would attempt a futile grasp at the holds. But instead of clinging to the wall victoriously, I would generally slide downward while tiny KG struggled to remain on the floor and balance my weight on the other end of the rope.

Perhaps the highlight of the night (at least for Pete, who was watching) was when I attempted one of my famous air hurdles found myself hanging in the air instead of coming back down to the ground as gravity intended. KG was below urging me to try to swing back to the wall, grab on to a hold, and keep trying. So I swung in the air with my tightly harnessed rear flapping in the breeze like an orangutan on meth until KG finally mercifully lowered me to the ground. Only I forgot to stand up ,so I was lowered all the way on to my bottom. (Thanks feet!)

Humiliated after approximately three minutes worth of failed attempts, I demanded to be unhooked and taken home. KG abided. Pete stifled his laughter. I forgot about it.

...Until I asked a friend of mine at school if she had ever tried to rock climb. She hadn't. Because a long line of treadmills are right in front of the rock wall. And people on treadmills have nothing to look at. Except swinging orangutans failing miserably in a doomed quest for rock-stardom.

I'll be there tomorrow with a tip jar...and a bag over my head.