I often hear other climbers say that they are "addicted" to climbing. I have have always kind of wondered what it is like to be a bonafide addict. Like the crack head puffing on the glass dragon. Slowly inhaling the toxic smoke into their lungs. With each beat of their heart, their blood courses through their veins. Loaded with the substance that their body craves. Their mind seeks this substance much like a shark stalks his prey. Silently they acknowledge that there is a need. Slowly they hunt. Seeking the substance that their mind is telling them that they need. The addict swims amongst his peers, all the while seeking. Hunting the one thing that will ease their mind and settle the jitters in their body. Silently they stalk and take the steps to acquire their "fix". Like a shark, the addict is crafty, stealthy, driven, and utterly unswayed from their intended target. Once a shark has tasted blood, there is no other substance that can replace the hunger they feel.
I have never been addicted to crack, weed, alcohol, porn, sex, or anything else for that matter. I thank my dad and the inheritance of his "mellow genes" for that one. I don't know what it is like to NEED something. To physically crave something. Except for climbing! I have tried to find a better way to describe my need for climbing. I just can't explain it to those who don't climb. A fellow climber/addict, however, knows all too well the feeling that I have. Like an addict, my palms get sweaty when I imagine my hands covered in a white powder as I indulge in the crack. One hand jam on top of the other. Each jam sets free a feeling of euphoria that I can't find on the ground. Each movement forward...upward...eases the jitters that I feel inside. Slowly, ever so slowly, I reach a state of awareness that you just can't find without "our" drug. My hair tingles, my breathing becomes amplified. I feel the irregularities under my fingers. The sharp edges threatening to pierce my skin like a needle to the arm. My toes curl in my shoes, searching, feeling, seeking out the most subtle of edges to stand on. My level of awareness has peaked. There isn't a drug on the face of the earth that can give me this sense of peace that I am feeling. As I near the top, I am already thinking of my next fix. As I plug the last few cams, I am in nirvana. Another successful ascent.
I am a junkie. An addicted. Addicted to more than just the aforementioned feelings. I am addicted to the lifestyle. I am addicted to the friendships I have formed throughout the years. The friends whose smiling faces I will see one day when I close my eyes for the last time. These are my fellow junkies. They are the brethren with whom I share this ride. We have shared countless bonfires, many beers, and even more memories. These memories can't be labeled or be affixed with a price tag. Like the the urban junkie, we do what we have to in order to get our fix. We rearrange schedules, delay meetings, skip out on work, make excuses, and basically do what is necessary to duplicate that feeling. For many of us, this will be a journey that will last a lifetime. I won't quit. I don't want to quit. I hope to pass my addiction to my kids, and their kids, and their kids. Like the shark, I will eternally swim the ocean of life....looking for my next fix. To you my friends and fellow addicts, I thank you for taking this ride with me. I see your faces in my minds' eye. I remember the good times and the bad. The trials and tribulations. We have left our blood on the rock. We have shed blood, sweat and tears. We have shared some crack. For your commitment to the cause - I salute you. I wish you the best. I hope you can get down to Durango someday and create more memories. If our roads shall not cross again, I hope you will continue your journey. And don't get help. You don't have a "problem". You have a solution that some search their whole lives for. You know what I am talking about. You are a Climber. Climbing isn't a drug to you...it is a way of life.
Only a climber knows the feeling.......
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