How true that is.
Nationals was an incredibly rough competition for me. I didn't do nearly as well as I'd hoped, but if I had known my competition my expectations would have been far lower. I come from the southwest division, basically the strongest division in the United States. I placed fifth in Divisionals, leaving me confident--maybe overly so--for Nationals. My hope was to make the top sixteen after the first two days and advance to semifinals.
Day one was a flash format. There was no iso (much to my chagrin, as I have a tradition of sleeping in the isolation rooms of major competitions). We were allowed to watch our fellow competitors and there was even a route demonstration. I climbed ninth, so I had a solid hour and fifteen minutes to warm up. I'm notoriously slow at doing that. Between traverses, I watched the route. Most of the girls I watched sent the route, with only a few falls very close to the top.
The funny thing is, I wasn't nervous at all. National competition, you'd think I would be shaky and scared... but I wasn't. I guess you could say I was playing with house money at this point. Being realistic, I hadn't expected to make it past Divisionals, let alone do well enough to end up in the humid heat of Atlanta three weeks later. Taking all of that into perspective, I was literally only there to have fun.
 |
| Sitting in the chair on day one. To my left is Kara. |
Sitting in the (white, plastic) chair before I climbed was an interesting experience. The girl next to me, Kara, seemed just as casual and relaxed as I was. We were tied in to two different ropes, so I could jump on as soon as she came down. The girl before us kicked the sign for the seventh draw off the wall, so there was a delay as an unnecessarily large squad of national forces replaced it.
Kara sent.
I did not.
Out of twelve, ten clips and a couple extra holds wasn't bad. But it wasn't enough. By the end of day one I was in twenty-fifth. Speed was a nightmare that afternoon: my fast run, a high nine, wouldn't have gotten me into semis even if I hadn't missed the buzzer and ended up with a low thirteen instead. Speed was over.
Day two went the same. It was the same format, although this time I climbed twenty-seventh instead of ninth. Sitting in the chair, again beside Kara, I knew I didn't have a chance at semis. Twenty people had sent the first climb. Unless I sent this one, there was no way.
I set my hands on the wall and moved in to the starting hold. The wall was seriously overhung, and I had to lift my feet up to the first foothold which was literally a foot straight in front of me. I climbed fast, cruising the first section despite the slow, technical nature of the holds. I'd seen three people touch the top hold, most people getting to the second to last clip, and a few falls on the tenth. The seventy-foot wall loomed over me as I moved.
I had also seen three people miss the eighth clip, so I was careful to stretch out on a side pull and clip far behind my head. The rope drag pulled me down and I was tiring quickly. Before the ninth clip, pulling myself over a lip, my hands started to slip. I did the same thing I'd done at Divisionals: rest on the hold, shake out, and think...
It was a long whip. I'd had a lot of run from the eighth clip, and I came close to a deck, maybe five feet up. Touching the ground I looked at my hands, bleeding at the pads. My fall had been really low. Despite the whole house money thing, being at Nationals, that was bad. For a few moments I could definitely have sat down and cried. But.
I'd seen far too many people crying on the ground after their performances, too many people so obsessed with placement that they couldn't see how many people they'd beaten. I looked up and I told myself--truthfully--that I would not have been able to keep moving, so I had gotten what I'd deserved.
 |
| Me on the day two route. The eighth clip is hanging in the top left corner. |
See, coming in twenty-ninth was not bad. Out of thirty-five, yeah, that's not great. But how many people did I have to beat to get here? Hundreds? All of the people who didn't even qualify, did I beat them? I think so. Realistically, in the large scope of the world, I surpassed all expectation. I gave it my all, and that is what I am proud of.
Side note: a fellow teammate, Clay, actually won his category and became the first national champion from Arizona.
