The Simple Things

The term "Doing Time" conjures up images of an inmate locked in solitary confinement. It brings about a sense of loneliness and utter insanity. While I enjoy "me" time just as much as the next guy, and while a solo wilderness journey is a tale in itself, my time on the couch since this injury has been about as close to solitary confinement as I ever wish to get. I got bored enough to count the boards on the ceiling (37 in case you are wondering) as well as the knots (lost count and got too frustrated to carry on) and watched some pretty drab movies. I do love to read, but I thoroughly enjoy taking my reading outside, under a tree, on a rock, or just about anywhere. However, no matter what I "enjoy" a little variety makes a subtle difference yet enhances any experience or activity. Laying here on this couch (thank God it is a futon) for the last 11 days has made me as close to a raving lunatic as anything in this lifetime is sure to. I think we have all seen movies that depict the lone prisoner locked in his cell and asked our selves, could we handle that? Well without an ounce of doubt, my answer is a resounding HELL NO. I would knock my own damn teeth out and uses them as tools to chisel my way out. I would cut this plate and screws from my foot and fashion it into some sort of crude instrument to burrow my way back into sanity. One bloody pebble at a time.

Okay, now that its settled (the fact that I could not be a prisoner) lets move on. Today was a day that I will not soon forget. I went outside..got in a car and went to town. I got to roll the window down and smell fresh air. I walked on a sidewalk, and felt the sun on my face. My hair tingled and not from the narcotics pulsing through my veins...it was wind. Pure, glorious, fresh, clean, mountain wind. I saw clouds and went up to the lake. I sat under an Aspen tree and felt green grass between my toes. I smelt dirt. I saw the sun glisten on the rippled water. Best of all? I sat in a lawn chair and watched my little girl ride her bike. In all this down time (25 days) I have done so little. Anytime out of the house was at my desk or at the doctors office. Something so simple brought such bliss. She just giggled. A sound that most of us take for granted on any given day. Not this day. Her little legs propelled her like a rocket. I swear I could hear every link in her chain as it would grind around the sprockets. The look of determination as she would glance over to make sure I was watching.

I know that I may someday get back to "normal"...no I WILL get my life back, but I will never look at the simple things with the same eyes that I had before. Seems when you get knocked down and "locked up" the way I have, you really begin to miss such little simplicities. I may miss a beat here and there in my recovery, but I truly hope I don't miss a beat when it comes to the appreciation we should all have for simple things that just pass us by. Like a shooting start on a full moon night, it all feels so amplified now. Maybe this has been good for me. Maybe this is the silver lining. Maybe this is just the beginning of new realizations and missed sensations.

A friend indeed

This is George. I met George at a little nondescript crag in Texas about 10 years ago. We have since to climb together, however, I have always hoped that we would find time to share a rope again. George and I have stayed in touch through the years. An email here....an email there. Usually short and sweet, something along the lines of "hey I'm doing fine, alive and climbing". The short time that we shared was of the substance that defines the essence of being a climber. George was alone, just bouldering around. If my memory serves me, other than us, he was the only other one there. He had walked from Mineral Wells (the town) to the crag. Maybe he hitchhiked. We climbed for the day and got to know each other. We offered him a ride back to his hotel and as it turned out he ended up over at our apartment. We were fond of George and his funny accent. He was so full of wonder and surreal climbing stories. There was a bond there that only need be explained if you do not climb.
So George read my blog the other day and replied with one of the most gut wrenching, heart felt, emails I have ever received. I am attaching both of his emails below. Not to gloat or prance around because I have cool friends, but because it is a classic example of the dignity and respect that one person can have for another. The bond that holds together a friendship over oceans, mountains, and many miles. The kindness in ones words can do more for ones spirit than can the most potent of pills prescribed for the reason of relief. Relief is what I felt when I read George's letters. Once again, a friend comes along and lifts you up when you have been beat down to what feels like the point of no return.
I hope that someday George can make it out this way or we can make it out his way. Either way, I know that we will remain friends with an unbreakable bond....right up until the end. Thanks George your heartfelt grace will not be forgotten.
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Well Jim, My memory of 30th Aug 1990 is that I was damn well gonna put that new route up before it got dark. yeh, sure, I'd need to sort the ropes out that I'd cleaned the line with but it wouldn't take me long. I sorted them and proceeded to abseil off the top of the crag. How was I to know that when I grabbed both ends and stuffed them into the belay device, in my haste I'd actually dropped one end. When I began the very rapid seventy foot descent to the hard, hard ground then I understood my mistake! I remember lying there looking at a darkening sky and beginning to see stars appearing out there in the cosmos. They seemed welcoming and awe inspiring to me because they told me I was still a living sentient being. I didn't know if I would remain so at that point but at least I could look at the Universe for a bit longer before I went. As it happens the only place I went was hospital. The paramedic asked me if I'd been unconscious. "No" I said. Then my climbing partner Tim, calmly told them I'd been unconscious for ten full minutes! Oh, right... And yes, it was painful, and yes I wished I'd been more careful but I was pushing hard that year and I always knew it could happen. I spent a lot of time in that hospital bed thinking about life the Universe and everything just like you. I thought about climbing and what I was doing and I thought about whether it was really worth dying for. I only ever came up with one answer. Of course it damn well was! I realised in that bed that I was actually comfortable with the risk I was taking on a weekly basis and that, yes, I actually was comfortable with the idea of dying for climbing. Something I hadn't realised before because I was too busy climbing to think about it.And yes, just like with you, they said, " you won't do that again". The surgeon who put my limbs back together said "you'll never climb again with that arm". Just like you I looked him right in the eye and said " Yes I bloody well will mate!" Well, it took a while and lot of physiotherapy but I did get that arm straight again. The one they said I never would, and I did get to climb again. In one year I was back to where I'd been and I was climbing harder if anything. I had just taken all those months of hard work and recuperation as an occupational hazard and focused on my goal of climbing like I'd always done. Why? Well because climbing is me. It defines me and always has. And so it is with you. Nine months later I was standing at the bottom of that potential new route. The Scottish climbing community had been gracious enough to leave the line alone for me. I stepped onto it and immediately felt like I was back where I should be. A short while later 'Nearly an Angel' E3 5c existed. Now, the guide book just says "George MacIntyre broke an arm and a leg on this climb". They don't know the half of it!! Now, that text makes me smile in my old age. Hey, what am I trying to say to you Jim? Just that I'm there with you and I know what it is to go through it all. I commiserate with you and celebrate with you also because you understand the value of climbing despite it's risks. You get from it what it's meant to give and for that you are blessed. I salute you. Ignore everything the physio's tell you, get better and, hell, lets go climbing!! Regards to your family. (the ones we put through hell while we're doing our thing).

Geo.
ps. Awesome blog!!
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Jim, I'm glad you are uplifted by my words and I'm glad you cried. When I read of your fateful happening and your thoughts on it all, it was like reading a bit of my own past. We connect mostly through the ether you and I but we have a strong connection in our understanding of one of the most beautiful feelings in the world - that of just cutting loose, trusting your instincts and not being afraid to take that risk. And yes, you should shed some tears. I know I did. I cried when I realised I was comfortable with the potential price of death for something I loved. I cried when I thought about what my obsession was putting those I held most dear through. I could tell myself that when I was on rock I was in control. I'm not sure I always was but those loved ones sure as hell were not in control of the fear they felt for me each time I picked up that sack full of climbing kit. It's a selfish sport at that end of things. A climber needs to be inwardly honest about that but you just have to be who and what you are. there is no other choice in life unless you want to live a lie. You have to learn to feel the hunger and the guilt in equal measure and be ok with it. It's a toughie but it's a climbers lot. Those who truly love you will understand and accept. The photo? A frivolous moment on a crag just above Zermatt in the Swiss Alps, just around four weeks ago as it happens. I don't feel so fit right now but I do appreciate the compliment. Just stay positive, stay focused, look around you and be happy to be in this life. It's a hell of a great place to be. In a couple of weeks I'm on my way to Tuolumne meadows with my wife Anna, to do some climbing and hiking. I'll think of you for sure!

take good care.
Geo.

Pain Gauge

How do you gauge pain? Scale of 1-10? High to low? The doctors always seem to ask me to rate my pain and when I tell them it F*&$ing hurts worse than trying to squeeze a 10 pound kidney stone from my whowho....they say "on a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being the worst". Why would you have to ask me that after I answered so eloquently? How about it hurts so bad that I would rather you take a large carpenters hammer ( the kind with the knurled head) and smack me right between the eyes? Hows that. Does that make you understand? Not usually. Then the white coats may ask you "what is the quality of your pain? Does it radiate, pulse, burn?" Are you freaking kidding me. It feels like someone is sticking my leg in a meat grinder and hand cranking it. Nope, not putting it on "grind" and getting it over with fast - nooooo that would be to easy. Nice and slow. Radiate? You are joking right. I feel the pain down to the core of my soul when it happens. I bet the guy next to me feels it when my pain "radiates".

My advice to you is- don't ever, ever, ever, flippin', ever break your calcaneus. Land on your head, your back, your sack, or your face, but just don't break this bone. The "quality" of pain is exponential. I can't even describe it. Oh yeah, and they don't tell you that as the MASSIVE swelling goes down the level, quality, and frequency of the pain is amplified. Yup - I am glad the swelling is going down. This means they can cut on me and give me my Go Go Gadget heal next week. That means I can start the healing process and start ticking off the days on the calendar until I climb once again. But !!!!!! With the decrease in swelling comes the unmentioned fact that all those vessals and nerves that have been cut off due to the grotesque swelling are now infused with blood. The kicker is that you are told to spend AS MUCH time as possible with your foot elevated above your heart. This helps by keeping the blood from the limb as much as possible. So, you have spent most of the day with your leg elevated..then you gotta take a whiz....oooohh no. You know what's coming. You put your foot down, reach for your crutches and all of a sudden it feels like someone has taken a bastard file ( yes that's a real tool) to your tibula, fibula and every bone and muscle in the immediate vicinity. At work, they all stop what they are doing and watch as I stand. I think they find it entertaining, hunched over on the crutches, turning pale, and having a major episode of Sudden Onset Tourette's Syndrom. And boy can I let the epithet's emanate. It kind of makes me laugh as I lay here on my back in a much lower class of pain.

So then, how do you gauge your wellness? "Oh I feel good today." "My back doesn't ache this afternoon." For me it is "wow my flippin' pain subsided for the last 30 seconds, should I make a run for the pisser?" My pain doesn't really come and go...it just keeps on coming. I eat pain for breakfast with my Cheerios. How bout a nice warm glass of excruciating, radiating, thumping, piercing, rotten ass pain? Now that is what I am talking about. All this pain leaving my body is making way for the pain that I will receive next week after my surgery. So is it bad when Lortab and Oxycodone can't even take the edge off? I have found the sliver lining, and the reason for this. I am going to be immune to pain after about 6 months of this. Yeahhhhhhh I am going to be one tough SOB. My pain gauge is going to be amped up, remodeled, and set for "you can't touch this". I measure my pain quality by how close I get to passing out. This has got to be good for all that future Alpine Climbing. Look out world the new and improved Jim will be here soon. New metal heel and all.

I will keep looking for the answers to life's funny little questions. I will keep my eyes and my mind open. My gaze will always be tilted up...looking for answers and scoping the rock for the day I can feel it under my skin once again. I am grateful to all the friends I have and especially to the amazing family that won't let me get down about this. With them, the pain is only a nuisance and nothing more. The pain will not define who I am, it will only test my will and strength, and I shall win.

D-Day

Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1)
D-day : /ˈdiˌdeɪ/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[dee-dey] Pronunciation
–noun
1.
Military. the day, usually unspecified, set for the beginning of a planned attack.

The mention of "D-Day" conjures up images of soldiers launching into battle. Transported to the battlefield and sent into the unknown. A constant barrage of dangers all around them. Never knowing which way to run, never knowing what to do but charge forward. Faced with an enemy in a far superior position, they march forward and do what is necessary to achieve their goals. Sacrifices are made, pain is dealt, and suffering is inevitable. Loss is inevitable, gain uncertain...but either way, things must be done. The battle must be waged.
My own personal D-Day will be next Friday the 15th. I went to the Orthopedic Surgeon yesterday. The news was not good. Not quite dire, but not good. Lots of uncertainty. No guarantees. My battlefield will be a myriad of events with no positive outcome assured. Now I know what lies ahead. The weapons of this war will be only those possessed within. My heart and my soul. The plates and screws: weapons of the surgeon. Tools of the trade. The pain is assured and the battle will be long. I present as though I am unafraid. Time is all that I have, my heart and soul are strong. My enemy has the upper hand at this point, but I will not give in. I will press on, move forward, and take ground as I go. My fellow soldiers will be there with me. My wife and kids will fight with me, they are brave (if not braver) than I. I may come out of this forever changed. To some, the change may be obvious....less flexibility, a limp, etc. The real change will be what is inside. I will gain brawn, both inner and outer. I will not falter and I will not run away. The plan is in place, the soldiers are here with me, my choices are limited, but I cannot show fear. This is where I am and I would not have this strength if it were not for those I have by my side. We will win, we will fight.
I don't know how good my outcome will be. The cards are stacked against me. They say that this will probably be the first of many surgeries. The Doc even told me that the "worst case" scenario could be me losing my foot. Stunned cannot describe how that felt. I guess with the lack of "meat" in the ankle, recovery is slow and hard. Infection is a REAL possibility. The pain hasn't subsided, but only multiplied. My kids are scared but I assure them that it is all going to be okay. I WILL gain from this. Experience, wisdom, and even strength. To say I am not a little scared, would be a concealment of the truth. But I can't say it. I can't show it. One moment of weakness can lead to absolute regression. Everyone has been totally positive and encouraging. I care not for sympathy. If you pray, pray for me, if you meditate, do so with me in your thoughts. If you believe in the power of positive thoughts, please send some my way. I don't ask for much, but I need the positive energy flowing my way.
Thanks for all of the positive thoughts and vibes - without my friends, I have no army for this war.

Judgement - Part 2

The previous post (on judgement) made me think of another analogy. One which I have been witness to recently. One for which we have all been through and one which we have all been warned about (by those with more experience than us) but continued bumbling on with utter disregard. We have marched along with our blinders on, straight into the chaos that we were warned about. I like to think of it as Experiential Education. Until you "experience" it, you just don't quite get it.
Think about this analogy for a minute. When you meet someone who just sweeps you off your feet. You are blind to the truth and swept away in an avalanche of emotions and hormones. I remember that. It may have been a long time ago, but I remember. Our parents would warn us and tell us to be careful. "It is just lust". "It will wear off in time and then what?" Truth be told, they were usually right. Falling in lust is a lot like being swept away by an avalanche. I haven't been in any big avalanches (real ones) but I have been in a small one. It was enough to get my attention and enough to make this comparison.
Like a new found relationship, crossing a potential avalanche slap can be both exhilarating and downright dangerous. Most people (at least those that want to live) that travel in the back country during the winter get some sort of formal training on avalanche conditions. After that they take things slowly. They build on their skills during an informal apprenticeship. They listen to others, travel with more experienced people, and learn from the stories and mistakes of others. They do their homework. They listen to those more experienced, they watch conditions, they study the history of a given area. It would behoove most people to take a similar progression to handling relationships. You don't just dive headlong into a situation that can take control of you in an instant and have lasting ramifications.
When you travel in avalanche terrain you take things slowly. You listen, look, and feel. You turn on your senses and you never rush. You use your JUDGEMENT to move forward. You take your training and you slowly go forward. You listen to your surroundings, both the physical world and your instincts. They can tell you a lot about what you are going through. You never go in blind and you never go in alone. You pull all of your resources together. You have the tools, the know how (because you have been through this before) and you have people there who are looking out for you. That is one of the most critical aspects: you have friends who are looking out for you, and you listen to them and they listen to you. Should you get caught in a slide, they are there to dig you out as fast as they can.
In a new relationship people don't often approach it with the same awareness that you would an avalanche. I am not sure why. In my opinion, you can get more messed up in a hurried and failed relationship than you can in most dangerous outdoor pursuits. Its said that "love is blind" but it can also be stupid. When you are young and you rush head on into these things, you neglect to see the severity of what you are doing. You don't see the consequences of your actions and you don't see the danger (no matter how slight) you may be putting yourself in. You have people around you who are usually more experienced telling you that you need to slow down, back off, and take a look around you. Acknowledge the danger signs and make decisions based on facts.
We have all had one of these disastrous relationships where we rush right in and then the newness wears off and it feels like the relationship slides right out from under you. Hopefully, at this point, you haven't alienated all of your friends and family. Hopefully they are still there to dig you out of the mess you have gotten yourself into. Like the avalanche, blind lust can leave you reeling. It can leave you damaged in ways that aren't always apparent immediately. The damage can be deeper than the eye can see and can take years to surface. You have to learn to take a step back and slowly build your experiences so that you have the judgement to make such critical decisions. When you refuse to listen, and you get caught in the slide, it is not always JUST YOU who gets hurt. Ignorance is bliss...but it can also lead to unnecessary risks and pain that can take years to heal. Much like an avalanche prone slope, a rushed relationship has all the ingredients for disaster. Knowing how to recognize this is a matter of good judgement. Acquiring that judgement is a matter of time....so take your time.

Update: Still growing and turning colors

08/03/08 - 6:32pm.....

Hindsight gets Lasik

Hindsight is supposed to be 20/20 right? So what if you are a stuborn jackass like me? Can you get Lasik surgery so that your hindsight is truly 20/20? I found myself thinking about his as I sat in the ER (once again) for my shattered heel. One of the nurses made the comment " I bet you don't do that again!". Well, as a matter of fact, the chances are great that I WILL do it again. Maybe I won't get hurt next time, or maybe I will, but I will surely be in another situation like the one that caused this injury. No matter how eloquently I tried to explain to her that I wasn't going to quit climbing because of this, she just insisted that I should see the "fruits of my labor now". Fruits of my labor !!!! What could she possibly mean? The fruits of my labor are the memories that I have from all the climbing. The good times I have shared with friends and the laughs we have shared. The fact that climbing has kept me in shape (both physically and mentally) would more likely be the fruits of my labor. A broken bone though?! That isn't fruit from any type of labor. That is a part of the game we play. It is the risk I take everytime I tie in to a rope or go out bouldering. I know this, my wife knows this, and my other climbing partners know this. That doesn't mean that we stop doing what we love. As any climber will tell you, you are more likely to be hurt walking down the street than you are climbing. Maybe with some hindsight lasik I can better predict the future. My vision will be perfect for seeing those winning lottery numbers before they are drawn. Maybe I could avoid all the pain and suffering that life had to offer. Nah- that would be too easy.

The inherent risks involved with climbing (or any other outdoor pursuit) are a fact that we cannot change. That is why they are "inherent". People have differing levels of acceptable risk. What I am willing to do - others may not be. The quntfiable risks that I take are something that I determine on my time. I don't push people into climbing. Even those new to climbing (hopfully) understand that there are risks that we cannot TOTALLY eliminate. So if you live your life scared and in a safety bubble, don't come climbing. You do your best to manage risks in everyday life. You don't get into your car and ignore the rules. If you did, you would surely end up dead. Fortunately there aren't steadfast rules in climbing. That is one of the reasons that most of us are drawn to it. We make our own rules (for the most part). You know the risks, you asses them, you do your best to minimize them, and you learn to process them in your mind and know when you are at your limit. That is, in a nutshell, what keeps me coming back.

I may spend a year or more recovering from this injury. The break (according to yesterdays ER visit) is "heinous". Those were the exact words of the ER doc when he reviewed my CT scans and x-rays. I loved the guy. No BS. He pulled no punches and he gave me the ABSOLUTE worst case scenario. He told me that he wanted to lay it all out there for me so that there were no surprises. He said that he wouldn't sugar coat anything, and he didn't. He told me that I could walk with a limp for the rest of my life, I could be facing multiple surgeries, and I could walk with a "VERY STRANGE" gait due to the damage. Basically I could be one of those guys that drags his foot behind him, with the toes never quite leaving the ground. Did he get my attention? Yup. Did the nurse have a point in assuming that I would "learn" from this and not do it again? She thinks so. Will I crawl in some hole and curl up in the fetal position-sucking my thumb and crying myself to sleep? NOPE.

There are people out there who have to overcome far worse injuries than I have. Mine could have been way worse, but I don't regret that day of climbing. It was a beautiful day in the mountains, overcast, with a slight cool breeze. My family was there, as well as Cody and Marcus. A group of people whom I love to share my time with were all there. It was the first climb of the day and as I went up I heard the sound of my daughter laughing and enjoying being outside. My son was picking out "his" climb. My wife was lacing up her shoes. Cody and Marcus were chatting and laughing. It was a great day to be alive and living in the mountains. While I was doing this, there were wars being waged, people fighting cancer, and somewhere out there someone was taking their last breath. I try and keep the attitude that "things could have been worse", and they certainly could have been. I look back now, a few days later, and I wouldn't have changed a thing. My problems are miniscule compared to most peoples. Some people live a jaded life, but I choose to live life on my terms. I will take the good with the bad. I appreciate the time that I have here and I won't "slow down" anytime soon. I feel sorry for those who stroll through this life afraid to take risks. I pitty those people. We all began to die the day we were born. To live life "afraid" is a complete mystery to me. We are all destined to die...so get out there and live. I don't regret what happened, or even feel sorry for myself....I consider myself one of the luckiest people alive...and that has nothing to do with this accident.

Judgement - Or the lack there of.

Judgement: the ability to base current decisions on past experiences in order to come out with a wise outcome.

This is one of my favorite sayings. It rings so true in so many ways. How can we have the judgement to get us through certain situations unless we have some past experience to base our decisions on? As we were toddlers, bobbling around in our youth, we were told that we shouldn't stick our fingers in the light socket. For me, that didn't quite register until I had the audacity to test the theory myself. I waited patiently for the right moment. Watching my surroundings and the authority figures. When the moment was right, I was determined to prove my parents wrong. Determined to prove that I was special and had what it took to buck the system. I was unafraid. I was confident in myself and the skills that I had acquired in my YEARS of living ( I think I was about 8 or 9 at the time). I was a seasoned vet who didn't need PARENTS to tell me how to live. So one day, when they weren't looking, I decided to give the ol' light socket a little friendly poke....nothing. I knew they were just trying to dictate my life. I couldn't quite get my finger in the socket. I pushed harder. Nothing. I remember trying to pinch my skin into some sort of preformed little wedge. That didn't work either. So then I looked on my dad's tool bench. There it was looking right at me all the while. The tool I would need to prove that my parents didn't know crap and that I was truly stronger and wiser than they gave me credit for. It was a little white screwdriver. It had a little clip ( the kind you find on a pen to hook on your pocket) and a little metal magnet at the other end.
This was it. I stepped out of our front door after collecting my little lightning rod. We lived in Hawaii at the time so I just threw on my flip flops and stepped out. There I was...just me, the socket, and the rod. No one was going to TELL me that something was beyond my capacity. I was old and wise. I walked right up to the socket that was right outside the door. Looked the socket straight in its slanted little eye......and in went the driver. That's all I remember. My next memory was running through the yard crying with one flip flop on. It must have knocked me down because my rear end was sore for days. I went into our backyard and climbed my favorite tree. It was my little escape. My little fort where I would often retreat to in times of crisis. My pulse was racing, my mind was foggy, and my fingers were numb. I think I may have even pissed myself just a little bit. I had done it though. It was a small step in my little life, but a huge leap in my path to becoming a man. At least that is what I liked to think. It shocked the holy buh-jesus out of me. I saw spots for days. I was too scared to tell my parents. Besides, I was a man now, making my own decisions. I had the judgement all right.....I never did that again. I have the base of knowledge now to know that that is stupid. You stick your finger in a light socket.....that crap hurts. Go ahead- don't take my word for it. You can't build your own base of knowledge by just listening to my story. You have to get out there and experience it for yourself. I think that if you talked to my parents, they would tell you that this story is just about the way I have lived my entire life. I learn from experience, not by someone TELLING me how things are and should be. It's worked thus far.

Pain

Here is the "after action" shot. Sitting in the ER and feeling like crap. The shot below is LITERALLY seconds before I fell. My 6 year old daughter was playing with our little point and shoot camera and took this. You can't really see much of the climb. In fact, not much but the top. This was taken from a little ways back. The ground is about twice my height below me. OUCH !!

Today sucks. The swelling is out of control. We called the Doc about 1am and they ran us through a few quick checks. Things I learned in EMT class. Basics. Check for a pulse in the extremity, CSM, etc, etc. All I could tell them is that I have never seen any of my appendages swell this bad. Well, I wish I could say that wasn't true (wink wink) but the swelling in my foot is truly out of control. All they could tell me was that I am doing everything right. Right?! It looks like my foot is a big blob of a club that is slowly sucking my toes into its core. Useless?! I can't even move my ankle a centimeter. I bet I can climb some mean cracks right about now. No feeling in the foot. Just jam it..hammer it in..and stand on it. No pain.

Speaking of pain, I was just telling my friend Sharon that the knucklehead that coined the phrase " pain is weakness leaving the body" must have neglected to run his spelling/grammer check. What he meant to say is that "pain is pain leaving the body to make way for greater pain".