Recent Media Excitements

--Insert awesome self-promotional spray here.--

June/July 2013 issue of Rock and Ice Magazine.
Allow me to summarize: in 2011 I competed on the World Cup Circuit, sucked a lot, lost all my confidence and got depressed. I took some time off, picked back up with climbing (only outside) fell in love with climbing again, started having fun and sent my hardest to date. Also I'm tired of being ostracized for being tall. Like REALLY tired of it.

August 2013 issue of Denver's 5280 Magazine Feature titled "Built." Comparable to ESPN's "Bodies" including Missy Franklin, Gretchen Bleiler and four other athletes around Colorado. It's an honor to be featured in the same article as those two Olympians!

Psicocomp

The Deep Water Solo Event.

I'm still sore, and I only climbed twice. Once during the practice round to get the nerves out, and once during the competition. I didn't get any higher the second time. But it was much more fun! After I got eliminated in the first round I was really bummed I didn't get to go again, try to go higher, and take a bigger fall. This type of event may be a new athlete favorite.

Leading up to the comp I was cockily unafraid, my ego convincing the rest of me that I was a badass. I missed the first practice round, and heard everyone talking about how scary it was, but only became slightly more apprehensive. Then the nightmares happened.

The night before my first time on the wall, I had nightmares all night long. I was falling from the top and either hitting the bottom of the pool, or missing it entirely and hitting the concrete. I woke up petrified. Showing up at the wall for my first attempt my heart was pounding hard, and as soon as I pulled on my legs started doing that Elvis shake thing. We've all experienced it... I was overgripping and looking down at my landing. I didn't get very high before I was outrageously pumped. I kicked off and shot down to the water and was submerged in less than a second, barely enough time to suck in a breath.

The water was not warm, and it took my breath away. In my minimal experience at this event, I was actually only afraid when I was under the water. It was just so cold it would shock my system and I'd come up gasping, almost hyperventilating, making it difficult to swim to the side. The climbing shoes didn't help either, they don't have the same effect as flippers.

My only regret from the weekend was not being able to attend the first practice round where everyone was climbing to the top and then jumping. After that day the routes got much harder... As much fun as I had climbing and falling into the water, I must admit my favorite part of the entire event was getting the robes. The finalists were given robes embroidered with the Psicobloc logo to wear after we got out of the pool, and they were glorious. I felt like a boxer, or an Olympic swimmer.

The bracket style format made the last couple of rounds super exciting, because of comprable difficulty levels of the finalists, and it turned into more of a race to the top than waiting to see who would fall first.

 From an athlete's perspective, the only thing I would change for next time would be to have only 8 men and 8 women in finals, just to speed things up a little bit, and to allow for the really cool intro bios that had to be nixed due to time. I think it would keep the audience more engaged, too, having more consistent "races", and less distance between where people would fall. And possibly a slightly easier route so climbers could go faster to add more of a "non-climbing spectator-friendly" speed element? I don't know.

All in all, probably the most fun event I've ever had the pleasure of participating in. I can't wait for the next one, so I can get my ass in shape and get it a little higher up that wall. For 2014 I  also want to see a Mike Doyle appearance. And I absolutely adore my robe!

The China Experience

I swore to myself that I would never go back. The last time I was in China was July of 2009. It was for the World Championships in Xining, and situations were dire.

As I was preparing the documents for my visa, hunger, pollution, chicken feet and bumper to bumper traffic began swirling around in my memory. Nevertheless I willed myself to get on the plane, on my second attempt at taking the bus to the airport at 5am. (My first attempt was 24 hours too early.)

I arrived in Shanghai surprisingly exhausted. My eye mask and ear plugs worked wonderful magic on the overnight flight, but my ambien had worn off a little too early. I was a zombie.

That first night I was taken to an amazing Mexican restaurant with a handful of higher-ups from The North Face, where, like an asshole, I fell asleep at the dinner table. Eventually, though, I came to realize that people here are quite fond of their catnaps, and fall asleep in public all the time. As the trip went on I began to notice this frequently, and felt slightly less bad.

My first full day I went climbing at a local gym and gave an impromptu interview, Q and A, and mini clinic. Luckily I can think quick on my feet!

The next day was my big presentation at the China headquarters office. I was excited; I had worked hard preparing (what I think was) a funny and entertaining slide show about my awesome life, and then showed Two Girls, One Pup. Fritz was a big star. After the film finished and the floor was opened for questions, “Does Fritz have a boyfriend?” was the first one I got. “Actually, yes, she’s in a long distance relationship with a Husky named Oliver.” Giggles erupted throughout the room. I was pleased enough.

Travel to the Asia Outdoor Trade Show in Nanjing the following day was two hours by train. I presented again at a press conference, and then qualified at the comp; struggle-bus style. I made finals in third and had to vocally pep-talk myself to try harder later that night in finals. I was seriously lacking my “grr.”

Isolation felt like a flattering game of follow the leader. I would do something significant in my spontaneous warm-up routine and then subtly watch as a few other girls began to do the same thing. When I warm up I pretty much have no clue what I'm doing, and often use ideas from other people, too, but sometimes I felt like Sid from the movie Ice Age when he gets abducted by mini sloths. Gratefully, I wasn’t going to be sacrificed to the fire gods afterward.

If you haven’t seen the movie (you should), here’s the clip in which I’m referring to:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ishzrAcByx4

I stepped up my game for finals and came out swinging, flashing, with much difficulty, all four problems and winning the comp. It felt good to try hard and come out on top. That pretty much covers the business aspect of the trip I guess. The everyday stuff should be much more entertaining, as I find the cultural differences quite fascinating. My recounts are obviously very broad generalizations, but much like you'd find in any huge city.

All photos by Alex Zhao

Something you don’t really get used to here is constantly being stared at. The traffic and the honking and the smoking, yes; the staring, not so much. I’ll be honest, I liked it at first. It’s attention, and who doesn’t like attention? I felt like an Amazonian goddess, but eventually I began to feel extra-terrestrial. It’s not just passing glances, but full-on, head turning, look-you-up-and-down, follow-you-when-you-walk, staring. Not just one passer-by; most of them. It was exhausting to constantly feel like you are on display.

So I started playing stare-backsies. It wasn’t very efficient, I just found myself locked into severe awkward-eye-contact battles for an indeterminable amount of time, usually with older men, them refusing to look away because I'm so “exotic,” and me refusing to look away out of Johnson stubbornness. It was arduous, and truthfully I wasn’t playing hardcore enough. After five seconds I would just start to giggle.

Instead, I hardened. I was good at it; living in Boulder for the last year made me an expert. Warmth and friendliness isn’t a right there, it’s earned. Drop the warm smile and replace it with a stone cold stare. Don’t look directly at anybody, just stare straight ahead. It’s not so much rudeness as it is indifference, (in Boulder it’s pretension) which is entirely socially acceptable, along with the constant honking. I started demanding when I walked through the city, though what I was demanding, I don't even know.

The thing about walking confidently is you can’t stumble. Then you just have to laugh at yourself for trying to hard. And eventually if you stand tall enough and walk briskly long enough you just get a side ache. It all became too much to care about, like the transportation.

Space on the highways is tight. Where there are three lanes, they make four. Taxi rides are a constant game of Chicken. Crossing the street is a constant game of Frogger. Which species to be? Which game to play? Try not to get smushed! It sounds outrageously dangerous, but you come to learn there’s an almost graceful ebb and flow to all of it. Almost. It goes right along with personal space: there isn’t much. And I’m a very space-bubbly person. It made it hard to breathe, but that could just have been the air.

“The smog lay thick and heavy, like a blanket, over the never-ending city… And something else poetic.” But seriously, it does. And that is the best way to describe it. I feel like I should reference all the authors who have used this metaphor before me, so as not to be a plagiarist, but the list would be too long. Also, I don’t have time. What does “smog” even mean anyway? Smelly fog? Stinky Manmade Oppressing Gas? I’ll have to google that.

Comparatively, this China experience greatly surpasses the preceding ones. The people I interacted with at The North Face (AZ, Patrick, Jacob, Hu Hao...) were fantastic. And thank God for Matt and Alia, or I'd have been singing the Les Mis classic, "On My Own," to my own personal musical. And I would have starved.

Onward to Salt Lake City and the Psicobloc comp.

Home

Soo... I moved out of my apartment and into my gorgeous 1950s diner trailer and now I'm livin' the #trailerlife. I got all settled in, and then decided to drive to Wisconsin. The town across the river from my home town boasts one of the best firework displays in the country, and due to all the forest fires in Colorado it seemed like a Boulder firework show was a definite no and what can I say, I love fireworks. If you want to see some good ones you should check out Boston or Tahoe, too.

So I'm at home. I've been painting a bit. I painted Shauners after she topped out her first 8B "Nuthin' But Sunshine." I painted this red and black tree that I hate. Trees are so hard, I will never try to paint anything but a furry pine ever again. I really want to paint Yosemite Valley but I'm worried I'm far too inexperienced and canvas ain't cheap. I'm also a perfectionist so painting is "the most frustrating thing in the world" and my new obsession. Obviously I'm not a true artist because I'm trying too hard.

I went rock climbing once at St. Croix Falls in Wisconsin. It was very humid and buggy. If you've never been to the upper midwest in summertime you have NO idea what "humid" and "buggy" even mean. Usually a day out climbing means you douse yourself so heavily in bug spray that the holds become more greasily elusive than they already are at 80% humidity. That means that 80% of the air is WATER. So it's like trying to climb something when it's wet.
Anyway, I doused the deet, and I tried to go climbing. My day was 80% unsuccessful. I will say though, I walked past this tall face near the road that doth seemeth unclimbed. Doesn't look too hard, but it's tall and very dirty. I was inspired! It had a Yosemite-esque look about it, and I think Yosemite is the best place on earth so naturally I got excited. I'm thinking of going back and trying to clean it. That is all.

"Wahh-B-S" Nationals. A Potential Transition?

Yes, American Bouldering National Championships happened. Yes, I was there. As per usual. I was there physically. Mentally I'm still unsure as to whether or not I fully participated.

I'm going to attempt to keep this post (mostly) bitter-free. But in all honesty--When it comes to competitions, I feel like I'm running out of steam. Folks are getting stronger, working harder, numbers are growing. (All these are positives in our industry when it comes to accelerating the inertia of progression in our humble sport.)

Naturally, one must roll with the punches in order to keep up. So, last year I trained. Like, really trained. In my personal growth as a climber, I was the strongest I've ever been. It got me (woe is me, a disappointing) 4th place at the Vail Bouldering World Cup, one step off the podium, highest ranking American overall. And a monstrous hangover the next day, my ranking already forgotten by everyone save for myself and a few close friends/family members. There's that famous saying, "Pain is temporary, glory lasts forever." I think in the sport of climbing, and how unbelievably fast its progression has been, especially in the last few years, glory is mighty short-lived.

 

If I were to pose the question: "Who was the first woman to boulder V13? (And get dozens of coveted 'First Female Ascents' of pretty much any hard boulder in Colorado?)" A question, I believe, every boulderer should know the answer to, due to the weight of it being one small step for an Ange, one giant leap for womankind, do you think everyone would know? This achievement was monumental. It shattered the ceiling for girls to follow, and follow they have been! And some people still don't know who Angie Payne is! Ignorant fools! Blasphemy! She should be one of the most well-known climbers in the world.

 

Last week Chris did La Dura Dura, the HARDEST route in the WORLD, EVER! And peeps be all, "WO! Sick! Yea!...What's next?" And then there's a lull in the climbing community with everyone's rising expectations. Give us a break, people. Sometimes just climbing V10 is hard (gasp!).
Anyway, I'm just saying. Ondra's only Ondra until the next Ondra.

Back to the topic: 2013 Bouldering Nationals.
Route setting is getting, not much to my liking, weirder. Problems are getting funky and disorienting. It's not like back in the PCA days when climbs were set so the strongest person was winning comps. Due to comps getting "slabbier" or "more technical" or whatever, spectators have been disinterested. Part of the appeal of competitions in our sport is that it's supposed to be exciting and eye-pleasing. You (at least, I) want to watch a badass chick on a steep wall jump from a tiny crimp to a heinous pinch and hold the swing, muscles rippling; not shimmy-balance her way across a slab and into a dihedral only to have her foot slip off a pancake at the top. Of course, these are all just my opinions.

 

The one redeeming factor I took away from the comp was that, at one point, I was able to muster up something in order to try my absolute hardest in the middle of our coolest problem, Women's Finals Number 2 (or 3?). The one with all the big blue volumes, which we now use. But then I fell at the top. One could say I ran out of steam.

 

In regards to running out of steam: Currently, at this point in time I no longer feel motivated to try my hardest at competitions. I don't "want it." I'm not "fighting for it." I just want to rock climb outside.
Am I sounding bitter yet? Perhaps it's my head cold.

Allow me to summarize: Competitions are getting harder, and less fun (for me). I might be too burnt out to work as hard as I need to work to stay at the top of the game.

This could ultimately be unfortunate for me, as it seems climbing is on the cusp of blowing up.

I could wait out this funk, and, presumably, ride the coat tails of comp-climbing up the glorious ladder of glitz and glam.

Or I could fall (leap?) off the wagon now, and grow personally as a climber in outdoor aspects (something I am far from burnt out on) and take swelling pride in my own mini successes, not a random ranking from a passing event. If nobody but you remembers your "greatest achievements" anyway (see above), what's the point? Didn't we all get into rock climbing for its individuality to begin with?

P.S. This isn't quitting. This is a transition.

Paying it Forward: PCI Clinics

Climbing is evolving. Whether or not we choose to evolve with it is our own decision. The industry is growing, and with it, more people are entering our sport at a younger and younger age. The kids are getting stronger. It's a movement and we can either join or be left behind.

 

For the past two years I've been traveling the country teaching climbing clinics with Professional Climbers International (PCI). The organization sends pro climbers like myself, Daniel Woods, Paul Robinson, Kevin Jorgeson, Sasha DiGiulian and Angie Payne, to name a few, around to host gyms so we can share our knowledge and passion for climbing with the younger generations.

Most of us have been doing this for fifteen-plus years. Obviously we don't know everything, but who would we be as professional athletes if we didn't give back to the generations to follow? Not only sharing the experience we've gained as it pertains to training, but movement and competition strategy as well.

When I was a kid my mom drove five hours so I could take a clinic in Chicago, Illinois with Tiffany Campbell. I don't remember a damn thing she taught me at that clinic. The only thing I remember is at the end of the day she said, "You have great potential."

 

My goal with these PCI clinics isn't necessarily to turn young athletes into world champions. What I want is each participant to take something even more important away from their time with me--a positive memory that they will carry with them for the rest of their lives. If not a single kid can recount my technique for heel hooks, or a pre-comp ritual I shared, but they leave with a smile and say they had a blast, then I've done my job. (Of course I want them to remember something! But I'll settle for a smile.)

We as professional athletes have been given a great opportunity to help shape the climbers of future generations, not only in ability but attitude as well. PCI clinics are a great medium for teaching, and a really fun chance for kids to not only learn from, but to just hang out and climb with their heroes.

I thoroughly enjoy working with kids. This is something I plan on continuing to do for as long as someone wants to learn from me, because honestly by teaching I learn just as much, if not more.

Luminance

Better late than never, right? Many thanks to everyone who came out that day. Couldn't have done it without you guys. There's great footage captured by Spenser Tang-Smith telling more of the story behind Luminance. It's much better than my gumby attempt at video editing, so you should check it out!

Across the Tracks

Honor Among Thieves

So many Yosemite photos and videos to post, but to get the ball rolling here's Kati Peters sending Honor Among Thieves, V9 at Camp 4 in Yosemite Valley! This is also my movie-making debut! :-)

My Second Greatest Purchase Ever (After Fritz)

It was Halloween night. Everywhere I looked the streets were filled with tiny kitties, cowgirls, and red Angrybirds perusing the neighborhood porches for candy.

Spotting the house number I was looking for, I pulled the van over, got out and headed for the front door, bracing myself in anticipation, worried that the zombie on the porch swing will frightfully spring to life. Peeking in the screen door before knocking I saw one bowl full of Capri Suns and another bowl full of rubber duckies. Original, I thought. I rapped my knuckles on the door.

"Hi, I'm Alex, I called about your Craigslist ad," I introduced myself as the door opened, just to clarify that I'm not here for a juice and a bath toy.

"Oh, right," the woman replied. She guided me to the backyard and there it was, in all its shiny polished glory. A toaster on wheels. My future home-away-from-home. A 1962 Red Dale Travel Trailer.

"My husband has completely refurbished the entire inside," the woman explained the new and improved features as she unlocked the trailer door.

What I stepped into was a 1950's diner themed room. I looked at the kitchen area, the red and white vinyl booth seats and stainless steel table, half expecting to see a milkshake waiting for me next to the Coca-Cola salt and pepper shakers.

The walls were painted white, the cabinets, stove and fridge all red. It was in mint condition, perfect working order. It was love at first sight.

I looked at the woman, beaming. "I'll take it!" I handed over an envelope full of bills and she handed me the title.

Driving off the property, trailer in tow behind van, I couldn't stop picturing how luxurious my future road trips were going to be from that moment on. No more cooking dinner outside in the cold and the dark by headlamp with frozen, numb fingers. Eating meals at a real table, not in the driver's seat. Lounge space that's warm and bright.

I hadn't been this excited about something I had purchased at this high a dollar amount since that June day in 2009 when I took a tiny Fritz puppy home with me.

So while everyone else was out trick-or-treating or going to costume parties, dressing (undressing?) like hoes on the one night a year where it's somehow socially acceptable, I was significantly upgrading my life.

AND I'M PSYCHED.