(Above: Anything that dude can do, I can do better. Kidding. But that IS the gym I visited. Pretty cool, right?)
This was my favorite adventure so far. I suspect I may have some serious, undiscovered skills in the rock climbing department. Which is great, since my lack of coordination means I'm quite hopeless when it comes to most sports.
I took a two-hour class in "top roping" at a rock climbing gym here in Brooklyn. The first thing you learn is how to tie a series of rather complicated knots. (That are intended to prevent you from plunging to your untimely death.) I have to admit, I got a little nervous. I usually stink at anything requiring spacial intelligence. But I surprised myself once again! Turns out I'm pretty good at tying knots. (I was probably channeling my grandfather, who must have mastered a few knots during his time in the Navy. Odd, unrelated note: He took part in the search for Amelia Earhart after her plane went down in the Pacific.)
Once I was all harnessed-up, I couldn't wait to scramble up a wall or two. And boy was it a blast. I was climbing so fast that my belayer could hardly keep up. Granted the wall was only ten or twelve feet high (there were a bunch of four-year-old kids climbing it as I was leaving), but I could have kept going higher and heigher. (I've never suffered from acrophobia.)
I can't wait to go back. Next time, maybe I'll take a class in "bouldering." You don't use ropes when you boulder. And now that I've discovered my inner daredevil, I plan to find out how far she's willing to go.
I've even started thinking about practical ways to put my new skills to work. My apartment is on the third and fourth floors, and the windows could use a good washing. Maybe I'll just hook a rope to the chimney and . . .
Let's just say this could easily end up being my very last blog post.
