Balance

Last Wednesday, I attended my first "climbing recertification" session at The Ridge. I had obtained my certification when the facility first opened, and had climbed the wall a few times with Tanner before he became too busy to hang out with his old man. But because so many years had passed, I was required to take the training again.

The instructor showed me how to put on a harness, tie into the rope, and use the belaying devices. The process is fairly straightforward, and I was ready to climb within a few minutes. But before I can just show up and ascend the wall during "free climb" times, I have to return for two additional certification checks before they'll pronounce me as safety trained. I'll take care of one of those checks tomorrow evening.

And then I have to talk some other certified climber into showing up when I do. One person climbs while the other person (the belayer) holds the rope that catches you if you fall off the wall. (The belayer also lowers you back down when you're finished climbing.)

If you're wondering why I'm getting involved in yet another sport when I already complain about my lack of free time, well, you wouldn't be alone. I'm a little puzzled, myself. But I've started the process, and we'll see where it goes.

I'm also committing to a program aimed at rehabilitating my uncooperative ankle. As most readers know, I broke my left ankle in a spectacular Water World accident a couple of decades ago, and have blamed some of my subsequent running struggles on my failure to regain my original range of motion. After being motionless in a cast for so long back then, my foot has remained stiff and inflexible -- but I'm finally going to try to fix that.

The physical therapist started by digging around to "break up the scar tissue" (also known as "make the patient scream"), and then assigned me a series of exercises to do. But the best-designed plans are still dependent on the disipline of the person responsible for execution, and my history of following doctor's orders does not inspire confidence. I am quite capable of undergoing pain and torture while I'm physically in the doctor's office -- but if you expect me to perform those same activities in the comfort of my living room, well...you may be disappointed.

But I am going to try. My running could improve drastically if I were to break through my flexibility and balance issues. And if running became easier, then I might actually do enough of it to lose weight and become fit. And then maybe I could have a social life that would be more interesting than dangling from a rope next to a racquetball court. (Sigh.)

OK, it's time to go do my exercises. Have a great day!