I knew it was too risky, though I liked the adrenaline, getting all pumped up for such a jump. Something alluring about that faintly (well, not to faintly) sickening feeling, just before the action starts. Something strangely inviting about that situation, the occurrence of which gives one nausea. In the end, I decided not to chance it. If there would have been no one nearby, whom I might roll into (you roll to minimize impact, if you fall from a high place), maybe I would have taken the plunge, literally (though there is now no way to tell if I really would have), but right then, there were a few people near my landing spot, and one of them was a very cute and precocious little climber (you might think this kid was born on the crags, and had to climb down to reach safety). So, I paused, arched my back, and breathed, letting my diaphragm sink deep within. No sense depriving myself of oxygen, and causing me to get tired, and fall. I slowly shifted position, going leftwards, at least not coming down the same way I came. I put my feet on two footholds, my hands on other holds, the right side of my body facing the wall, and the left side of my body peering into space. Ah, that oh, so familiar position! The same position I had been in, a few feet higher, and a few feet behind, hoping to thrill myself with the ground rush of freefall! But I was still too high, and I had to get a few feet lower. I went on, resisting the temptation to push off with my right leg (my left leg was, at times, just jutting out into space), to get that shrill thrill, until I was, again, a few feet lower, and few feet more leftwards, having practically gone down like I had been climbing down a staircase against the climbing wall. Here, I arched, and breathed, again letting my diaphragm sink deep within, not letting my ribs fly too far out too quickly, so as not to hyperventilate. Finally, I arched forward, and jumped.
I hit the mat with the balls of my feet, trying keep my feet flat (without hitting my heels), keeping my legs relaxed, and my glutes tensed. My back bent forward, and as my shoulders came forward, while trying to keep my knees from bending too much (I tried not to let them bend past 90 degrees) I braked my momentum with my pecs, as my hands went right through the softness of the mat, and were stopped by the hard ground (no, the mattress had not failed; it had just reached its limits). My downward motion stopped just as my knees were feeling the collapsing mattress getting hard (yes, they touched the mattress; o well): I had not maintained proper form -- either that, or, being tired, I had reached the limit of how high I could jump from without, needing to roll.
The tension in my glutes helped, as I just popped right back up, and moved forward, a little, and then, just as I stood up, came to complete stop, after a step, or two. It felt good! My partner was a little bit impressed (this was her first time at a climbing gym), despite this not having been my highest jump that day; though I think she was getting a bit jaded, by then.
That day, I generally tried climbing down any puzzle I climbed up in the bouldering room, sometimes coming down the same way I came, and sometimes, taking a different route -- if you climb out in the wild, like I tried (did) here:
then it is best that you are comfortable downclimbing, as well as upclimbing -- you do not always have a mattress to jump down on to, out there. Sometimes, I jumped, either I was too tired, or I just did it for the fun of it -- the jumps done from the higher places were for fun.
Other than climbing up, then climbing down, for most of my climbs, that day, I also tried climbing overhangs. The slight overhangs were the easiest, of course. My climbing partner, despite this being her first time, tried an overhang, too -- and with some success. My primary problem with the more inclined overhangs was that while I was able to hold onto the handholds, with both hands, I fell whenever I let go with one hand, to grab another hold -- at that time my supporting arm just gave way. Sure, I was following the the advice (or, rather, trying to follow) given in this video (about using your legs to propel yourself, rather than your arms, to pull yourself)
but pushing with my legs, while hanging from an overhang, I could still not make it bearably easier on my supporting arm, when I used the other arm to reach for a handhold.
Of course, this was good news, since it was a tremendous improvement over the last time that I was there, when I would have to take breaks from climbing, or just have to jump off the wall, simply because my fingers were getting too tired. Now, I know I have to concentrate on conditioning myself for holding on with one arm at a time.
After a lot of bouldering, my climbing partner and I took to the room with the belay ropes, and tried our hands at it. We had tough luck with even the slightest overhangs in this room, but we were able to climb, and I was able to try my hand at pulling myself up using just the belay rope. Maybe, next time, I will remember to hold the rope between my feet, the way the military guys climb up much thicker ropes. Alternatively, maybe I will put the belayer's equipment on myself, and use that belay device, so that I can rest my arms for extended periods of time, during the climb. Hey, my friends call me Spiderman (including my climbing partner), so I had better be able to climb unassisted!
A video of me climbing, while my partner holds the rope, as well as me climbing using the rope, is here:
I shall hope to build on this experience, for my next climb.
P.S. It just occurred to me that I could put my supporting arm into a lock, when I let go of the other arm, to reach for another handhold. I'm pretty sure this is what some of the leaner guys at the gym were doing, considering how they over moving on overhangs. Also, I am beginning to doubt that anyone could move from handhold to handhold on overhangs without using locks, unless, perhaps, they had the build of Dan Osman.
I should try and practice locking my arms, front and back, next time I go for pull-ups.
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