Climbing at 57?

When I got married, I slowed down the pace of my rock climbing.  Then when I found out I was pregnant with my son, I stopped altogether.  I decided that if the hubby could give up his penchant for fast cars and take up the responsibility that goes with being a family man, then I could give up my love for rock climbing, too (although I still maintain that rock climbing is a much safer hobby compared to racing). 

After a two and a half year absence from rock climbing, I find my hands itching to climb.  Ah heck!  Who am I kidding?  My hands were itching to climb a lot earlier than this. 

Sometimes, late at night, when I’m trawling the net and looking enviously at the climbing photos of friends, I wonder if I could go back to rock climbing and be satisfied if I can’t climb like I used to.  Would I be able to stand the inevitable disappointment that my body cannot climb as well as my mind remembers?  Would I be able to accept the fact that I won’t have the time to dedicate to climbing like I used to so that I could bring myself back to that level?

And as the days move into months and the months to years, I wonder if I have passed the time for such activities.  And then I see an article about Running America talking about Marshall Ulrich (age 57) and Charlie Engle (age 43) who ran 3045 miles (up to 70 miles a day) and I feel inspired.  If they can still be running at those ages, then surely I can still be rock climbing at that age, too.

One of the things about climbing that I liked which was unlike a lot of power sports where being five years older can seriously affect your performance, you can still climb just as well and better if you set yourself to it. 

So we could only attempt the drier rock

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