Directa Jabalì

DAY 6 of shooting practice - November 29

A day that started off badly, actually, I’d say it went badly…! Except that in the early afternoon, after retreating into my own silence and thoughts that were bigger than me, I managed to confront myself and release those internal barriers that, up until that point today, hadn’t been letting me breathe, and, as a result, climb, normally.

To even begin to navigate these challenges, I need everything in my body to be perfectly aligned, and that basically means in my head. My ability to breathe, to engage my core and abs without tensing my stomach, originates directly from my head; and this, in turn, allows me to move well. If something gets stuck, the transmission of intention and power from my head to my body is disrupted.

Today I woke up feeling the pressure, because Stefano, my favorite insurance agent, came back to help me with my insurance, and precisely because he’s so valuable, I can’t afford to waste his time. I woke up thinking: I have to start making a little progress every day again.

Then I felt the pressure to succeed in this goal because, after all, I have professional “obligations” to fulfill, not in any explicit or defined way, but every so often I need to provide updates, whether public or regarding my performance, on what I’m doing. And since I’m at a point where I need to express myself in concrete terms, I want to do so through my actions.

Finally, I know I’ve set a goal that’s definitely pushing me to my limits, but I don’t want to give up at the first sign of trouble, because I knew from the start that there would be some.

Reflecting on all these aspects, I realized that every single goal along my journey is part of a longer path, of an ongoing process. It helps me to think that, even if I haven’t added this shot to my resume in two weeks, I’m still learning a great deal. I’ve learned that I can unleash much more power than I thought possible, if everything is aligned just right. I’ve learned that I’m capable of shutting out everything and everyone, on command, not because of circumstances beyond my control. These two aspects are incredibly important for my life as a mountaineer, and they’re perhaps the feeling I’m seeking when I think about my next goal, when I dream of a remote mountain or a legendary route.

DAY 13: Shooting - December 9

After delving deep into the depths of my motivation and deciding to continue with this project, with a slightly longer-term vision, namely to climb the remaining three days I have left now, go home to train for a month, and try to come back here for about ten days in early February… Just today, during the third-to-last climbing session focused on that specific route, the pulley in my right ring finger popped.

I was trying the first move again, and I mentally focused on holding myself in with all my strength using my right hand... It’s my left hand that has to grip that nasty hold, and 95% of the time it slips out because the hold is rough and damp, but it’s thanks to holding myself in with this other good hold, a vertical crack, on my right hand that I’m able to take those three small steps with my feet and reach up to the hold afterward. I have to grip both holds as tightly as possible, lock my shoulders and back as if I were squeezing something right between my outstretched arms, stick my butt out, watch my three feet, and place them quickly: right foot slipping away, left foot secure, right foot high… and go for the highest, dampest hold. But as soon as I even think about squeezing my arms, I hear a “POP,” and all the strength in my right hand vanishes instantly. I let go of the hold and fall. I know exactly what happened. I’m left hanging from the rope. My belayer knows exactly what happened too. He heard the sound as well. He lowers me down, without me having the courage to tell him.

After digging deep into the reasons why I kept pushing forward with this project... it's over. All I can think is: how hard it was to stay motivated, only for my body to ultimately decide for itself what to do.

Two tears roll down my cheeks, quickly, out of anger... because that hold wasn't risky for my ring finger, I was holding it with three fingers, and it wasn't risky for the pulley either. I've already torn the pulley in the ring finger of my other hand, and that type of hold was definitely much more dangerous.

I was feeling good. It was my third lap of the day. Nothing felt off; I’d done everything right.

And yet, that’s just how it is. I have to accept what happened. It’s certainly not the first time I’ve gotten injured; I push the anger aside and console myself with the fact that I’m at the end of my month in Spain, that it’s December, and that I can forget my frustration by burning off energy on the snow and on the pull-up bar at the gym.

It would have been much worse if it had been a shoulder, no doubt about it. A finger is just a finger; I can still do a thousand other things. But for climbers, fingers are like feet.

Stefano has to climb my route to remove the quickdraws from the wall. It’s the first time he’s tried it. When he puts his feet back on the ground, he just says to me, “I’m proud of you, and of the determination you showed in giving a route like that so many tries.”

I’ll settle for this: I’m taking home the realization that I can devote myself so deeply to a single thing that’s extremely difficult for me; I take home the realization that I can muster far more strength than I think I can if I want to, and that spending a month on a single pitch is just an excuse to test my limits, both physical and mental, once again. That I could have come home with a string of 7c and 8a climbs in a month, but that would have added nothing new to my understanding of myself. I’m returning home with yet another defeat under my belt, and yet I’ve discovered a new dimension, of myself and of climbing, that I want to internalize and carry with me to bigger projects and walls.