Rock Hard

My youth was an interesting time. Going to school with a bunch of average teenagers, I have to say that I found nothing more confusing than the continuing obsession that almost all the guys my age had with soccer. I mean, I’m aware that it’s a popular sport, but I always found it a little bit dull. More than that, it really bugged me that almost none of them supported an A-League team and that they all seemed to be fans of English or Italian clubs. Maybe the standard is better in Europe, but what’s the point in being a fan if you’re not going to support the local team?

Not only that, but half of these guys didn’t even play soccer. I could understand the mass excitement over Manchester United and Barcelona if there was a prospect of these guys getting to the point where they were really good players and heading over to Europe to give it a try one day – or even if they could try out the moves they’d seen on a televised match in the playground the next day. Perhaps unsurprisingly, this was not the case, they just endlessly talked about it. Me? I’m a doer. My favourite sport is rock climbing and yes, that was greeted with no small amount of derision from the guys in my class. “That isn’t a sport”, they would claim. Well, sitting on a sofa watching something that is happening halfway around the world isn’t sport to me.

Their opinions on rock climbing softened when they heard that I was doing it myself, to the point where I was involved competitively and starting to win a couple of meetings. I wouldn’t say they softened to the point of actually respecting it, but when I took part in and won a regional contest they really began to speak to me like they were actually interested, rather than hanging around because of the girls my minor success seemed to attract. I can’t complain, it’s a lot better than being ignored as far as I’m concerned. It got to the point where a bunch of guys hired a minibus to come down and see me in action. No pressure, huh?

Well, I just felt that I’d better not totally suck. I’d won a few meetings against guys my own age, but this was another matter. Some of my competitors this time were a good five years older than me, five years more experienced and five years stronger too. I had to make sure I was prepared. Luckily my local gym has a climbing wall inside, and I was there non-stop in the fortnight leading up to the meeting. I shaved seconds off my time, and when I turned up to the meeting it was just me and my hydration pack against the rest of the guys.

By about half way through the event, there was only myself and two others who were even in with half a chance. I was getting thirsty. But these guys weren’t stopping, so how could I afford to? Three quarters of the way up I pulled the drinking tube from my hydration pack I had bought from www.liquidpacks.com . I took a good glug of water and splashed a little in my face for good measure. Unlike the other two I didn’t need to stop or slow down for a drink causing something wonderful happened. The two guys, within seconds of each other, slowed right down. They had misjudged how much they’d be able to put into it and I, fully rejuvenated, stormed past them to the win. Life is sweet sometimes.