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Thank You.

Thank You.

If you are reading this blog for a quick, entertaining read please do yourself a favor and click away from this page. If you have grown used to spectacular scenery and photos that so often grace this blog, today isn’t the day for that-go scroll through previous posts-I think there should be plenty there to keep you engaged. If however you have been following Project 365 since it began and have been a part of this venture in one form or another read on!

I wanted to dedicate one blog to thanking some of the people and organizations personally, in no particular order, who have been consistently in the trenches with us in one form or another. This blog is not meant to be comprehensive-it is just my feeble attempt to offer a few thoughts and my thanks to those of you without whom I would have surely failed.

Some of these people contributed time, others ideas. Many contributed financially and many opened their homes and businesses to us. Some of these folks I have known all my life, while others I have never seen in person and might not recognize if we passed on the street. The sheer quantity of people who came to mind when I decided to write a thank-you blog is a testament to the grassroots nature of Project 365. It makes me very happy to see how many people made this effort what it was-I have said many times before that this project has not been mine but it has been a group effort from the very beginning. Read on to see just what I mean…

Before there was LivingVertical:

My Parents: I am not convinced that either of you fully understand my desire to climb-I know you will continue to advocate for my getting a haircut and a “real job” and that you worry about my safety. I appreciate your support and respect for the way I have chosen to pursue my goals. I know that it can be hard to watch from the outside and trust that all of the sacrifice is worth it.

Stefanie: You connected the dots and put the pieces of the puzzle together which gave this project direction. You looked at what was out there and saw what we had to contribute and made me see that I had something to offer. You have understood me and supported my unconventional ways. Few climbers have the privilege of a marriage that does not impinge on their inherent need to take risk or embrace minimalism. Thank you for that sacrifice.

Tony Vuocolo: A few years back a gumby college student with Mad Rock climbing shoes and a lot of misconceptions about climbing walked into The Inner Wall. This student met what looked like a climbing hippie with a massive beard who turned out to be a real person who cared enough to teach me how to climb safely without killing myself and others. You motivated me and invested your time and friendship in me. I would not be a climber today without your influence. Beyond that, when I was looking to start LivingVertical, you took the new skills you had been developing in the world of business to encourage and support (and inform!) my effort.

Nick Percell: I came into this project having a lot of artistic designs and no ability-or very little, relative to what I wanted to accomplish. You have spent a lot of your time and effort shooting photos and video, editing shots, talking and explaining how your do what you do and helping me and Stef build the artistic component of Project 365. Beyond that, we have shared many times on ropes and rock and each of those times have been enriching in many ways. I can safely say that whatever comes out of this project from an aesthetic standpoint is largely a credit to your ability to share what you know about creating imagery and telling stories. Through this process I have gotten to know myself better and found an appreciation for something that will be part of my life from this point forward.

Rick and Lisa Percell: You opened your home to us, took us in, treated us like family, listened, shared, and supported on so many levels. From the first time we came through Vegas in Feb ’12 through the final days of Project 365, you have been helping make this project a reality in ways that we could not have achieved without your full support!

Gareth Turo: You put the crazy idea in my head of starting a 501c3 to combine climbing and diabetes. It seemed too big for me to do, but you made it seem plausible. Also, you were there when I sent my first boulder problem in Harriman…and saved my life when I went into insulin shock and had a seizure in college. Just saying.

Ken Start and Naomi Lee Baumol: You both helped me explore the legal whatnots of business operation and startup-murky waters indeed. You committed to the LivingVertical mission through your tireless support, time, contributions and even through coming out and climbing with us at various times. Your support and willingness to listen to my bitching and ranting kept me sane and made me feel loved and appreciated at some very tough times.

Trevor Kelley: You supported my vision for this project back in 2011 before LivingVertical even existed and were there for me at one of the worst times in my life when no other person understood or was there for me. We traveled across the land, shooting footage for a trailer for a documentary that neither of us knew anything about. Also you introduced me to the GoPro and Always Sunny! Personally and climbing wise you came through in a very special way at a very key time. From that road trip came this project. Thank you for that.

Frank Sanders: Oh Uncle Frank! You were the first person to do a 365 day climbing challenge for a cause. You made me realize that I should share my passion for climbing when we first met on Devils Tower, when I was clogging up the Durrance Route and you showed me how to be more efficient. When I visited you in 2011 at the tower, and I doubted if I was able to start LivingVertical, you and Juliana made me believe in myself and empowered me to navigate the IRS red tape. Without your input I wouldn’t have started guiding back in the day and I may never have even started on the path to doing this project.

Greg Matulionis: After I came down off Devils Tower in 2011 while shooting footage for the Project 365 Trailer, we met and talked about what it was that we were up to and what I was hoping to accomplish. I never thought that you would be there from that day forward, supporting every step of the way, giving when we needed anything and always encouraging the effort of the project. You were the first non-family member to “like” our facebook page. I am so thankful we met and I am grateful for your tireless generosity and support-it is a testament to what can happen when you reach out to others and start a conversation. I can turn into something much bigger than just a momentary interaction.

Zeke Federman: We visited you after Devils Tower and you helped hammer home the idea that LivingVertical was something that I could do-that I wasn’t crazy and you taught me about guiding and how to be safe and to help others around me be safer too. Empowerment through climbing education has been your mission and you gave that gift to me. Also, thank you for hooking us up with ClifBar as a sponsor of this project! That was a massive boost to us when we really needed it!

Lee and Alan Paton: Way before I thought of starting LivingVertical, when I worked as a guide, we went out and had an adventure together in the slot canyons of Zion. I needed to have a good trip that day-and we did, thanks to your willingness to venture into the unknown and explore in the face of deep frigid water, quicksand and precipitous drop-offs. I have been so inspired since then, watching you both continue to push yourselves and develop skills in the natural world that required you to push beyond your comfort zone. When I began LivingVertical and the Project 365 effort, it was no surprise to me that you guys were such strong supporters. You took it seriously and got the word out-not to mention repeatedly contributing your financial support and time to come over from the UK to climb with me.

John Kimmel: Since college we hadn’t been in close contact beyond watching life happen to each other via facebook. When I began moving forward with the fundraising portion of Project 365, I honestly never expected the kind of support that you showed. I was completely blown away. Over the following months it has been a wonderful experience getting to reconnect and I look forward to being able to see you and your wonderful family in the future. You and Ken were there when my career on screen began in “Duane’s World”-the fact that you have stuck around and have been willing to see more of my trajectory in the world of film, is the true testament to your character…

Maria Qadri: From the outset you were there to share your perspective and balanced view of the “diabetes game” with me while encouraging me and helping me to trust myself. If there was some kind of award for most retweets, you would certainly get it. Every time when I felt like no one was watching, listening or caring, I could always count on you being there to make sure I knew that what I was doing mattered!

Fatima Shahzad: Since we climbed together Pre-P365 in Boston, I began to realize that I was one of many who believed in an empowered view of life with diabetes and that there was a real opportunity to reach out to others and show them that they are not alone. I appreciate how you have always stayed in touch and checked up on me to make sure I was hanging in there.

Alyssa Sotomayor: You have been in the trenches fighting on our behalf since day one. I could always count on you sharing blogs, photos and updates with your friends. It has always meant a lot to me that you were never reticent about asking others to support us-as well as supporting us yourself. Thank you for being a constant source of support and encouragement.

Christie Suriel: Thank you for letting us use your home as a base camp for the first part of the project, when that support was most crucial. Also thank you for all of the entertainment that you and Mike provided for me over the time we spent there. Also please pass my best along to Fat Kitty-but Stinky Kitty gets no love from me.

Ana Suriel: You have always helped me see myself and what I have to offer as being valuable, even when I felt less so. You supported our crazy vagabond lifestyle from the beginning, years before anything resembling LivingVertical came along-when it was just two kids who kept chasing an improbable dream. Well, here we are, and look how it developed! Thank you.

Manny and Dalina Suriel: Since we came up with the idea for the project, you have been there in every way you could to make sure we felt supported in this effort, and make sure we had the camera equipment that has given us the ability to create the imagery that has flourished here. I have also been inspired by your initiative to start climbing and exploring new challenges!

Manny Suriel: I want to share how much your support has meant to both of us since the beginning of the project. Financial support, opening your home to Stef and myself and seeing you take big steps to revolutionize your health have been really encouraging to watch from a close perspective. Also, your ability to maintain balance in situations that are very difficult has been a great support to me.

Kizzie Suriel: Thank you for giving your time to help us come up with our logo! What seemed like it should be such a simple process turned out to be a much bigger ordeal that you helped us sort out. Also your willingness to open your home to us at various points along the way is much appreciated.

Arsi Barias: I don’t believe we have yet met in person, but I feel like we have developed a relationship through the course of the project. Your support has been amazing and constant and I can’t thank you enough for that.

David and Suzie Richert: First off, thank you for hosting our fat little bear, Mr Kitty. I know that the love for a pet is something that some people get, and others…don’t. I knew that we made the right choice to leave our most precious charge with you and I can’t tell you how much that means. You guys have been all over Project 365 and I don’t think anyone in our immediate family has been following along as closely as you-which means a lot more than I care to get into here. Thank you for all the support and advice and interesting conversations that have helped to incubate many ideas.

Joe Richert: Thank you for helping support the setup of LivingVertical. Seeing the challenges of managing Sapphario’s diabetes has helped inspire me to demonstrate that there is hope in an improved diet and exercise for him and other kids like him to live a good, long life without fear and limitations.

Beth and Mario Canepa: Thank you for helping us get the Dragon Wagon situated to hold enough cargo to get us off and running-the ability to have all our gear stored in the Turtle Top that you gave us changed the game for us!

Bobby Falcon: Thank you for fixing the exhaust on the Dragon Wagon-it lasted all the way to the last days of that vehicle and helped us get where we needed to go!

Rick Praetzel: You have been very supportive of LivingVertical and very candid about how your views of this project have developed. The support that you have consistently offered us whenever we had any need has been greatly appreciated-as well as your encouragement and perspective on the impact and value of this effort, which was not always visible to us in the moment.

Skip Thompson: From the first time I broached the idea of Project 365 on Supertopo and was inundated with the haters responses…you helped me to see through the ignorance that was out there and use the criticism to improve and clarify my vision. That support has not waned in the following months and I am thankful for that!

Aniez Del Mono: I have never met you in person, but since connecting online (through the Indiegogo campaign, I think?) you have been on top of every post, liking, sharing, encouraging and promoting the Project 365 effort. You have given freely and it has been a privilege becoming friends through this process.

Dominic John: Thank you for helping me learn the little bit that I know about editing video-it seemed like an insurmountable task to put together any sort of video content-and while I know the greatest challenge still lies ahead, you definitely helped put the basic tools in my hands with which to build this work. Thank you for being available to discuss ideas and help me learn!

Cherise Shockley: I have enjoyed participating in your Blue Friday initiative-and I know others who follow my social media channels also enjoy this too! Thank you for coming out to visit me at the WDD event in Indianapolis-it really meant a lot to me having your support!

Mike Durbin: I enjoyed your blog events over the year and I appreciated being invited to do a guest post on your personal blog. Beyond that, it was great meeting you at the summit this summer and I always know that when I go “fishing” on twitter at 3AM, you are right there-and on a number of instances during the project that has made me feel a lot less alone out there on the road!

Todd Gordon: We kept missing each other when we tried to get out climbing together, but you opened your home to us and gave us a shower to use and a place to get in out of the cold at the beginning of the project after we had been suffering in the backcountry in Joshua Tree. Every time we talked you have been right there with support and encouragement, beta on routes and climbing areas. I have always looked up to you as a climber who has seemingly been everywhere and done everything-but you still manage to be psyched for other people and give of your time and experience freely to help other people reach their goals!

Lisa Jennings Baranoski: It has been a long time since the days of high school in Delta Junction, but you really reached out in support of our effort-repeatedly. Getting to reconnect and feel the love from my “roots” in Alaska has meant a lot to me and I have always felt like you guys are on board and rooting for us!

Stephanie Waters: You spent a lot of time and effort making sure I was taken care of and that I was prepared for the PR aspect of Project 365-it was a pleasure getting the opportunity to work with you and see your mastery of a skill set that is very foreign to me. I am quite certain that we would not have been able to accomplish nearly as much without your help. The event in Atlanta was very meaningful to me, getting to meet such great kids and families and while I know only a fraction of the work that goes into that type of event, I know that it is a LOT of work. I appreciate your taking the time to try climbing with me in between interviews while we were in Indianapolis this summer and the way you kept me psyched up through the SMT.

Eamonn Nolan: I know that we only had a minimal amount of personal contact, but through your fastidious attention to detail many of the finished products that I got to enjoy were facilitated! Your behind-the-scenes work did not escape me, and I am really appreciative of the fact that you personally cared about the project and the mission of Project 365.

Sarah Ledesma: Thank you for helping us navigate the world of social media and PR from the infancy of LivingVertical. Your effort and advice helped inform a lot of what we wound up doing and the fact that you have stayed in contact, followed along and availed yourself to help long after your responsibility to do so had expired means a lot. Much of what we see here today came from the beginning of it all, where you helped us believe in ourselves as an organization and find a direction.

Kristin Holler: You and Drew have been entertaining and supporting us in our quest for over a year. Not only did you guys go out of your way to contribute financially whenever you could, you have both been an inspiration in the way that you two love each other and your family. The personal aspect of the project has always been more challenging than the physical part of climbing and you guys have really helped give us hope in that regard.

Terrie Marcoe: You have been supporting and working for the betterment of Project 365 behind the scenes and I am so thankful for all you have done to help us succeed. Aside from the amazing chalkbags into which I dip my hands when I feel uncertain, you helped us develop our logo to make it “pop”, you set up our merchandising and you have always helped us to share what we were up to with your network. You did all of this at a time when we couldn’t do it for ourselves and you labored in obscurity-but know that your effort meant a TON to us and helped us make our goal.

Mike McDonald: When I was attempting to climb El Cap via Lurking Fear, I was in a tough spot-personally and with the project. I felt like I was nearly in over my head and one of my biggest concerns was being able to overnight on the wall and securing the proper gear to do so. I put a post up on SuperTopo and you volunteered a lot of gear that was not cheap-but you were all about helping us get up on the wall and that kindness meant a great deal to me. I hope we have a chance to get back out there again and do some climbing together…perhaps this spring?

Jewels and John Doskicz: I had hoped to do climbing events at local gyms all over the place during Project 365. Once I began traveling and climbing and living out of a rattletrap car, I started to realize how much work was involved with this and how difficult it would be for us to do even a fraction of those events on our own. You and John totally stepped up and did the heavy lifting to set up our first event ever-and you welcomed us into your home and gave freely to help us move the project along. Thank you so much for that-also please pass these regards along to your wonderful family. You guys are a major inspiration!

Hammer: You connected me with CGM technology. Literally and figuratively. Using a CGM has changed my life and you were absolutely instrumental in that. Thank you for that gift and for inspiring me with your positivity!

Bill and Annette Maloney: Thank you for supporting us in our efforts and for taking the time to meet up with us for some climbing. You introduced us to Mr Hammer as well as Insulindependence-two very significant additions to our lives for sure. You also introduced us to seaweed snacks which have since become a dietary staple! Thank you for always being on the lookout for connections and ways that we could maximize the impact of Project 365.

Joan Seff: It was a pleasure meeting you and Jake and Quake at our first event in Flagstaff! Thank you for the insulin you gave me-it stood me in good stead. It made a big difference having a little more insulin to use!

Chris Norris: When Project 365 started, I didn’t know how many other T1D climbers there were out there. Throughout the course of the project I have been inspired watching you push yourself physically and mentally through several injuries and recovery. You stayed positive and focused on what you wanted to accomplish. That tenacity is outstanding! Thank you for sharing that gift with us and for always helping us get the word out when blogs were posted or funding campaigns were going on.

Marcie Romero: Thank you for sharing your Dexcom sensors with me; that generosity is something I will be appreciating for a long while down the road!

Christie Shanafelt: Thank you for being available to support Project 365 by answering medical questions and being willing to stake your reputation on our efforts by endorsing this adventure!

My climbing partners:

Rob: You have been pushing me from the first moment we were in the same space together and you asked Cabot to hide my backpack. I thought to myself, “wow, this guy is a complete _______”. Despite this initial analysis of your character, we managed to become very close and we have grown accustomed to placing our lives in each others hands. This project has relied on your energy at many significant points and I would not be the climber I am without your influence. I am not sure if that’s a compliment or not but it’s the truth!

Jessica Edelman: You were the first person with Type 1 that I ever climbed with outdoors. I appreciate the growth in our friendship and being able to talk about diabetes and keep eachother focused and positive. That day out in the Gunks meant a lot to me-it helped me to really see that what I was doing made a difference and it was so cool seeing a fellow diabadass getting after it and having a great time in the vertical world!

Jannette Wing Pazer: I really enjoyed the time spent with you and Ariel on Madame G’s as well as the time we got to meet up at Gomen Kudosai. You have been one our most ardent supporters from our home community-and all those retweets and shares along the way made a big difference!

Martin Fuhrer: I remember telling you on our way down from Pidgeon Spire that I could feel my life change forever on our outing together. That is something that I can’t fully explain or thank you for. I look forward to many more adventures, changing lives, and gnarly crevasse escapes together! Thank you for your patience and for being cool under pressure. This is just the beginning.

Bryce Taylor: It has been great getting to know you and I have enjoyed having you be part of our climbing adventures. You really added to the energy and the stoke to get out there and send-and that was really important! I look forward to more of that in the future!

Jason Behrstock: It was a little intimidating for me to think that you were going to travel all the way out to Las Vegas to be part of Project 365, but in the long run it made for a great and fulfilling completion of the climbing part of that endeavor. Your level-headed approach to things really impressed me and your energy and focus inspired me a lot. I learned about myself and about what I was out there doing this past year through the time we spent together. Beyond the fact that you caught me on my project your support has been clutch and has helped to raise the bar for the diabetes community.

Michael Kurek: Scrubbin’ buddies for life. Also thank you for joining me on my best day of bouldering yet-I think we really played off eachother that day and got after it!

Cory McKee: Thank you for being on top of things all Project long. We have climbed together in the past when a lot of the formative process was going on and I have always appreciated your easy going and kind way. You have been there for me during the project (and before that) when I felt like no one else could be bothered. You opened your home to me on the times that I was driving cross-country and always made sure that I knew that what I was doing mattered. I hope you come back to Zion.

Dudeman: It was great climbing the Headache with you and Rob back in the summer. I have appreciated the support you have shown LivingVertical online and your opening your home to me over the holidays.

Laura Dahl: Bouldering at Moes and climbing at Cerebus was a great time-but since then you have been there to listen and support and share your ideas and that is something that has really meant a lot to me.

Bill Dunn: You’re a righteous fellow. Thank you for making us feel welcome and occasionally awkwardly uncomfortable. I always enjoy the time we get to spend together.

Steve Vindler: The time we spent together in Yosemite and the east side of the Sierras was some of the most memorable from the project. The bear ordeal, the brakes, that guy from Oregon who assumed we would be calling SAR…I appreciate your patience and being right on with camera work to capture so many of those moments. Your sorting out the brakes on the car when they went was a huge help and without that I would have probably gone completely insane.

Calvin Laatsch: We didn’t get to climb together as much as we had hoped to over the course of the project, but it was meaningful those times when we did rope up together in Zion and City of Rocks. Thank you for not giving me penalty slack when I flailed and for getting into the camera work on Cynthia’s HJ in Zion.

Emily, Toby, Beth and Alex: My friends from the Red! I went into the Red feeling apprehensive of not knowing anyone there and wound up having an amazing time and making great friends, sharing some great climbs and getting my hardest onsight of the project. Despite the hurricane washing us out, this was an incredible time and your support and camera work and partnership really made what could have been a tough go a really enjoyable experience!

Rachael Kuperus: Thank you for supporting Project 365 from the outset and for always being there to help with medical questions and for endorsing it officially. It was good climbing together at the Red too-it meant a lot that you were willing to come out and brave some pretty unpleasant weather in order to be part of the project!

Austin Stiegemeier: The mural that you drew on the now deceased Dragon Wagon was one of my favorite things that happened throughout the project. It was so cool and it really made the time spent at City of Rocks seem much more productive. Thank you for sharing your time and incredible talent with us!

Corporate support

Insulindependence: Your organization has gone above and beyond to show us hospitality and involve us with the AMAZING work that you have been doing for years. I am in admiration of what you have accomplished from an organizational standpoint and being able to make friends with SO many amazing people through your events has been empowering and encouraging. Blair, Peter, Brennan, Amrie, Desirae, Lawren-we love you guys, thanks for being so awesome!

Goal Zero: When we went to the OR Trade show, 6 days into Project 365 I felt as though I was going to be laughed at by everyone. I felt completely hopeless-but I knew that I wanted to meet up with the Goal Zero team because we had chatted back and forth on Twitter. I located your booth and even though I was on the brink of despair, I went for it and we started a conversation about climbing, Project 365 and type 1 diabetes. James, as my main contact person from Goal Zero, I have always felt supported, not only from a business perspective but personally supported. I knew that what I was doing mattered to you-and that meant SO much to us. I am proud to know you and to be a Goal Zero ambassador.

ClifBar: People ask me if, after 365 days of climbing I am tired of eating Builder Bars. I am always happy to say that I am not tired of them! However, the fact that you make some tasty treats which help me keep my blood sugar balanced while exercising is only part of the thanks I have for the support of your company. When we had special events or when the bear broke into our car, you were right there, making sure we had all the bars we needed to eat!

PCGI: I learned a great deal of my technical skills from my mentors from PCGI. Frank Sanders, Zeke Federman, Jonathan Zambella, Seth Zaharias, Paul Curran, Joey Vulpis and Zach Schneider: You are the representatives of PCGI that I have had the privilege of learning from over the years and I think the fact that I have never really seen PCGI as so much an organization or a company but rather a group of amazing people who go to great lengths to help empower other people who want to learn how to play safely in the vertical world speaks volumes to the care and love that you all put into your work and your students. I am proud to be one of them, and I thank you all for supporting Project 365!

FiveTen: Thank you for supporting Project 365 through contributing our climbing footwear! When climbing, one can afford to skimp on many areas of gear purchases without it directly impacting your performance in the rock-but climbing shoes are not an area where that applies! As a diabetic, I am very conscious of how my feet are taken care of and I appreciate a quality shoe that is also comfortable, lasts a long time and helps me send when I need precision. Thank you for helping us send!

Darn Tough: Your company name says it all! Since I started wearing DT socks (before Project 365) I have been accosting anyone who will listen with tales of life-changing socks. This has not been an exaggeration and having the support of your company through this past year has been massive. I have trusted DT socks in cold, heat, ice, snow, sand and water. Thank you!

Accu Chek: Thank you for contributing the funding to Project 365 that put us over the top at the 11th hour to help us complete the year! Beyond that, thank you for all of the friendships and relationships I have gained from the time I spent visiting your facilities in Indianapolis. Gary VanDeLaarschot, David Gayes, Rob Muller-from the first time I met you all, I felt like I was amongst friends. Knowing how much you all care about the community you serve and the effort that goes into reaching more people with life-saving products meant a lot to me. I personally felt very supported on a personal level by you throughout the project and even in the days since it has ended. I know there are many more people who I met at World Diabetes Day and I apologize for not remembering everyones name, but the time I spent with you all really meant a great deal to me and made me proud to be supported by your company.

If you made it this far down this entry, you’re a true supporter!

Day 365: Death or glory

Day 365: Death or glory

I laid in bed and rolled over to look at my phone-I was awake before my alarm. I tried closing my eyes and going back to sleep, but it was no use. I found no rest, only a highlight reel of my time and failed attempts on my project. There was only one thing on my “to-do” list today. No sense putting it off further.

Day 365: I got up and shuffled to the bathroom to try and re-stick my CGM (continuous glucose monitor) sensor to my arm. This device was my talisman against blood sugar crises. It had become almost a nervous tic, where I would compulsively look at the trend graph, drunk on the power of almost real-time visualization of my blood sugar. Now, it was peeling off and barely attached, dangling by the sensor wire. I had one spare sensor with me but I didn’t want to try and go through the startup process of re-insertion and wait 3 hours for the new sensor to begin reading. Three hours would be too late.

I cursed my fitful sleeping as the culprit in the detachment of my sensor, convinced that worrying about this route would be my ruin on every possible level of both climbing and diabetes. I gingerly applied liquid adhesive and successfully glued the sensor to my fingers rather than my arm as I had intended. A spirited bout of micro-grappling occurred as I attempted to extricate my fingers from their sticky predicament without completely tearing out the sensor, whose only means of attachment to my person was a tiny wire embedded a half-inch deep in my arm.

Just like that, it was over. I looked at the sensor, dangling from my fingertips, the tiny wire kinked and misshapen. My only viable option was to “fly blind” and go without it-I thought about having a tantrum and whining about how unfair diabetes is, but the truth was that I had been climbing in dicier situations for over a decade with no CGM and had been no worse for it. I would just have to do this the old fashioned way.

I couldnt help but think about the correlation between my predicament and that of Jean Claude Van Damme’s character in Bloodsport who had to fight his nemesis after being temporarily blinded by a handful of sand to the eyes. A bit self aggrandizing perhaps, but we all need inspiration I suppose…

I ate my standard climbing breakfast-one Clifbar Builder Bar and a cup of coffee while fidgeting around and watching video of me climbing my route from two days prior with Jason. I felt good about the crux and now I was studying the upper moves, looking for the best spots to rest and the most efficient sequences that would allow me to keep from flaming out and falling.

As we drove to meet Jason I tried to make peace with myself about whatever the outcome of the day would be. I promised myself not to be upset if I failed to send because the fact that I had been climbing for 365 days consecutively was the real victory. I kept repeating that line over and over to myself hoping that I had really bought it…

Waiting was torture. Driving in, hiking up to the route-I just wanted to be done with it. We arrived at the climbing area to find it buzzing with people. I selected a route to warm up on and tried to focus. Jason and I didn’t talk much-I think everyone knew that I was pretty clenched at the thought of what on the line.

The weather was warmer than all of the other days we had been there so I clung to that as a good sign. I knew that I had one opportunity to send. All of my previous attempts told me that if I pumped out on the first go, I would be too weak to have any chance of linking all the moves together. I pushed myself a little harder on the warm up to make sure I was completely ready-I had one shot, one “Hail Mary” that would be the icing on the cake to validate the year I had spent climbing, the living out of a car, the vagrant lifestyle, the upheaval, the instability and on and on.

Finally it was time. Jason and I exchanged a few words and as he went to set up at the base of the route, I took a few minutes to myself. I checked my blood sugar. 109. The sun was shining and the temperature was perfect. Jason had lifted my spirits the day before by raising the bar and sending hard. Stefanie and Nick were scrambling into their positions from which they would shoot this route-for the last time. I felt free from outside pressures.

I wasn’t worried about disappointing Jason. I knew he was behind me all the way, and I knew that he understood what I was going through on so many levels as someone who fully understands the intersection between climbing and diabetes. I knew that most people wouldn’t care if I sent my project or not-the 365 days was the main event from the outside perspective. But I wanted this. I wanted this for myself. I took on this project to push my limits, and 5.12a was my limit. I wanted to send this 5.12b. This was my route, my time, my struggle-and it would become my burden if I failed yet again…

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I walked over to the route. I tied in and briefly confirmed my gear setup with Jason. “You can do this” he said. “Just climb”. I popped in my headphones, and put Immigrant Song by Led Zeppelin on repeat. The moves up to the first ledge and the first bolt were easy. I clipped in and stood on the ledge as I had so many times before.

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I took several deep breaths and lost myself in the rhythm of the music. I slowed my thinking, and I was suddenly pulling down on the starting holds. I didn’t feel the holds or think about how tiny they were. I knew the moves, so I just flowed through them, not stopping to think. At the second bolt, I nailed the clip flawlessly and instead of thinking about the next series of moves, I made the next moves. I stopped thinking about falling or climbing and allowed my mind to grip pure nothingness, where there was neither success nor failure and certainly no diabetes. Without fear I executed each move with clarity. This is a state I have only experienced in rare situations while climbing unroped, where my mind must be airtight or else…

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I reached a tenuous position above the second bolt. I had to clip here, but I was fully extended and in a very delicate position. I concentrated on not over-gripping the hold with my right hand while I let go with my left to hand to clip-and reinsert my headphones which had popped out! I reached out with the toe of my left foot to find a tiny nubbin to help me balance during this movement. I felt my arm beginning to strain and I knew that I had to move decisively and not linger.

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Then my foot popped off the tiny hold.

When your weight is balanced on dime-edged ridges on an overhanging wall, even passing gas will feel like the earths magnetic poles reversing. I felt my balance shift, and I instantly pulled hard with my right hand to recover my balance. I dangled by one hand for a moment, made the clip and reigned in my wayward foot. I felt strangely unfazed for having almost fallen; I felt strong and in control, having caught myself. I knew that I had to keep moving and not allow my conscious mind to find its voice or all would be lost. I was not home free yet. I climbed quickly higher, where it was still steep but at least there were larger holds. I clipped the fourth bolt from good holds and paused for a brief rest.

I had seen my adversary, my own fear and self doubt-and had harnessed it and executed rather than succumbing as I had in times past. The final 45 feet went by smoothly and I didn’t even hesitate or doubt the outcome. The hardest part was behind me. Minutes later I clipped the anchors and asked Jason to lower me.

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I couldn’t believe that I had done it. My hardest route ever, on the final day of Project 365, with a T1 partner. I gave Jason a hug when I was finally on the ground-we said very little, but I knew that he knew and I knew…this was a special moment. It was special for us and what we had shared over only a few days climbing together-but it was also special because of what it meant for all of us with diabetes.

As Jason climbed the route, I thought about what this day meant. I thought about the impact of a team of T1 climbers and the energy and inspiration we fed off of each other.

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I realized that while this was my hardest send in my life, this was nowhere near my limit. I had visualized failure for so long that I had conditioned myself to that end. Seeing a fellow T1 sending hard the day before helped me see myself doing the same thing. I watched Jason climbing the route and I thought to myself, THIS is what it’s all about, not about my hardest lead or about how many days I climbed.

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And that was the point of all of this from the outset. I wanted to show others with diabetes that we can do incredible things and that we have a choice about living within the limitations of diabetes. I wanted shout down social conventions and ignorance that portrays type 1 diabetes as an illness or some inherent weakness.

I wanted to gently but firmly stand up in opposition to the woe-is-me mentality that I see frequently expressed across the internet by others in the diabetes community who don’t feel like they are able to overcome or that their only hope for a healthy life is beyond their control, pinned on medical breakthroughs and government regulatory bodies. I choose not to argue with viewpoints that I disagree with-I would rather DO something that shows otherwise-and let people choose for themselves. In the course of Project 365 I discovered that there are many others who share this vision, and many more who have been willing to listen to a different perspective. The more of us who stand up against the myths and limitations of what diabetes means-that is hope for RIGHT NOW.

As we all hiked back to the cars and the sun set on the final day, Jason summed up the day perfectly: “Two type 1s in the desert, perfect temperatures, sending hard routes together? It REALLY doesn’t get much better than this!”

New Horizons for LivingVertical!

I had my health, my wife and friends with me (many of them in spirit) and the hardest climb of my climbing career was in the bag. We had made our point. I felt so thankful for all the support from everyone over the year and the hard work work from friends like Nick who gave their time, space and energy to the cause. It felt good. Stefanie hugged me and said “So how do you feel? Are you ready to relax and enjoy this accomplishment?”

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“Well, it’s definitely a good start” I said.

(author’s note- I am unable to retreat from living relentlessly in the real world, so my being overjoyed is basically what you see here despite my apparent lack of jubilation. I am not miserable by any means, I’m just wound pretty tightly.)

 

Inspiration and Type 1 Diabetes: mix well, serve cold.

Inspiration and Type 1 Diabetes: mix well, serve cold.

Day 364: For our second day of climbing together, Jason and I decided to go back out to Calico Hills and do some bouldering. I would do only the bare minimum and rest myself for the last day’s effort. The weather was cold again (30s) but sunny enough that it wasn’t too bad. I felt pretty low energy, and unmotivated to do much climbing-and Jason really provided some much needed psych! I actually felt relieved that he had some motivation for some harder bouldering. I was dragging myself through the motions, encumbered with concerns about my project, but Jason was ready to get after it.

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I warmed up on an “easy boulder” while Jason checked his sugar. Nick suggested a short boulder problem that he assured me was “super easy” that he wanted to shoot us climbing on. I followed the group over to this area and set up some cameras to get video of Jason bouldering. Nick shot stills, Stefanie shot more video and Nick’s friend Bryce came along to climb with us. I tried this “easy problem” several times and failed to send.

 

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I didnt want to pull too hard, and my arm was starting to hurt. Bryce and Jason, however, were climbing strong.

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After I managed to put the moves together and we had all completed the problem, Jason said, “Ok, let’s do something harder!”

I was happy to do more filming than climbing at this point. My arm was still hurting and I was excited to see Jason get to work on a hard boulder problem and I wanted to support him. Our previous days outing was more of Jason supporting me so I was ready to pass the ball and let him push himself. I hadn’t seen him really climb at his limit so I was curious to see what he would do!

He got on a V3 and hiked it with minimal effort. I was impressed. He moved over to a V6 and began working the moves out with Bryce, who, it should be mentioned is a very strong kid. I was tempted to try their problem but I restrained myself. I felt the starting holds and as sharp and small as they were, I knew no good could come of it, so I stuck to capturing video!

After only several attempts Jason sent. This is my favorite shot because for a number of reasons, but I especially love the fact that you can see Jason’s pump, along for the ride.

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I was blown away! It was his hardest climb ever and he made it look pretty easy-and these holds were tiny! It wasn’t that I didn’t think he would get it-I was impressed with the fact that it seemed like he had no doubt that he could send-and that focus allowed him to unlock the moves. When you are climbing at your limit, maintaining poise and emotional control is so hard for me. Seeing this display of control and mastery from another type 1 climber- was super inspiring at a time when I was personally at low ebb.

For the remainder of the afternoon I helped out with spotting Jason and Bryce as they climbed together, intermittently taking breaks to help Stefanie shoot video. It was really enjoyable to be “off” and just to enjoy the camaraderie of climbing with friends! These two shots are of Bryce working a dynamic boulder problem called the Angel Dyno (V7).

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Bryce and Jason wound up working on some more problems (V4-V7) and it was really inspiring watching the process from the sidelines, seeing the effort and the adjustments and the failures and successes. It’s sometimes easier to take lessons from “the process” when you’re seeing someone else working through it!

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I haven’t sent harder than V5 myself so I was really happy to see Jason, a 20 year type 1 veteran put up a V6 like that in the cold. Jason is a man with a job and a family. I am a man with no job and no family. Between the two of us we agreed that we eliminated nearly all of the most commonly used excuses that people cite for not trying to push themselves!

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Not only was it good for the mentality of the group to see Jason’s success on a hard route, it really motivated me to match Jason’s level of intensity. I have never been competitive-so it’s not like I wanted to prove anything or do one better than him, but I truly felt like we were united in our climbing effort to raise the bar for the entire community of people living with diabetes. His effort made me want to try harder-he inspired me to push myself!

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Jason’s send got me out of my head for the day and changed my perspective. I was proud of him and just knowing that the true importance wasn’t about what grade routes I was sending (or falling off of!) but rather what we could do TOGETHER by motivating each other- and that was just what I needed. Jason’s support and intensity set Project 365 up perfectly for its culmination!

 

Diabetes and a Wedgie (part 2)

Diabetes and a Wedgie (part 2)

Day 363: Jason and I planned to meet at the Dunkin’ Donuts outside of Red Rock. I professed a deep appreciation for their flavored coffees despite the potential effect on Jason’s first impression of me. When we finally met, I had no idea what to fully expect, but my first impression of Jason was, in a word: meticulous. This is always a promising quality to find in a new climbing partner.

He asked a lot of questions about my diabetes management and what our climbing would entail and he had seemingly prepared for each situation that could arise from any possible answer. We hiked into the climbing area and got to know each other better-and Jason shared that he was a PhD of Mathematics, a fact that made a lot of sense given his highly systematic approach to things. I feel like diabetes forces one to adopt a certain appreciation for the ability to calculate-and as an arithmephobe (scared of math!) I have struggled with the ability to demonstrate concrete, numerical strategies which relate to managing my diabetes. I can’t tell you how many times as a child, I would get poor grades on my math tests despite getting correct answers-all because I couldn’t show my work!

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We arrived at the crag and it was completely empty. The sun was shining and despite the 38 degree air temperature, in the light it felt comfortable to climb in only a light fleece jacket. We had our pick of all the easy routes to warm up on, and I was determined to improve on both my strategy and performance from my last attempt at my project. When Jason asked “What is the name of your project?” I sheepishly gave up that information while lamenting the fact that my project routes always have such silly names. I want to project a route called “Hammer of the gods” or “Great white behemoth” or something that conjures up images of mighty deeds and the gargantuan effort that it takes to actually send. Instead I have a penchant for selecting routes whose names invoke confusion at best (Diabetes and a Wedgie-I dont get it?!) or something out of an episode of the Simpsons.

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As we climbed together for about an hour to warm up, Jason and I went back and forth sharing the commonalities and differences in our methods for keeping our diabetes from negatively impacting our climbing. None of the routes at this point really tested either of us. We took turns leading several of the 5.8 routes near us-it felt good to get in a rhythm of climbing and develop our communication.

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After doing this for a while we agreed that it was time to take a run at Wedgie. We moved our gear over to the base of the route and I tried to psych myself up. I had spent a good while watching the video of previous attempts over the past days and I felt certain that I could at least make it through the crux section (the first 30 feet, the hardest moves). I couldn’t visualize the second half of the route though, which concerned me a bit. Getting through the hard moves because you have them memorized but falling on the easier moves above because you are less prepared for them can be really frustrating-and that was the point I had gotten to last spring at my best effort.

Again, I roped up at the base of the climb. Jason and I went over some technical details and began to climb. At the ledge where I had stood so many times, I clipped the first bolt, and looked up at the moves that had turned me back only two days ago. Today would be different though. The sun was shining. I was only cold this time, not freezing! This was it!

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I climbed past the first bolt, far enough reach a hold that I could hang onto with one hand, freeing the other to make the next clip. This was the hardest part mentally and physically- this was THE move that had plagued my imagination with visions of injurious failure. If I fumbled the next clip and fell, I couldnt catch myself with one hand-and I would almost certainly whip onto the ledge below me with the added rope out.

I may have been holding my breath. I can’t remember. But I know that I nailed the clip. My mental reaction to this initial success was both elation and confusion.

‘Now what?!’

I hadn’t thought much beyond getting to the relative security of the second bolt. Now I had gotten there and still there remained two more bolts to clip before I reached anything resembling a rest.’Great,’ I thought. ‘I’ve really ****ed myself here’. I looked up at the next series of moves and the unrelenting angle of the wall.

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I tried to remember which of the tiny holds I needed to use-and in what combination. My forearms burned. My fingers and hands were in searing pain. I couldn’t remember where to go and I couldn’t hang onto these tiny holds to think about it further. I was terrified of falling but frustrated at opacity the next move.

I hollered down to Jason, “sh*t dude, I’m gonna fall!” (actually I said a few more things that were even less polite, but you get the idea).

He yelled back up to me “No way man. You’ve got this. Don’t come down. Keep going to the next bolt!” His response interrupted the voices in my head just long enough.

“Ok, fine!” I muttered. Somehow I managed to climb to the next bolt and one move beyond that before I took a short fall which Jason caught with ease. I hung for a minute or two-everything below the my elbows felt like lumps of ground beef. I had been pumped out before, but this time I was so pumped that it hurt. Once I was able to open and close my hands without pain, I resumed climbing. I had missed sending the project. I let everyone down. I let myself down. Again.

But…

This time I learned something. I learned that I could climb even when it hurt, even when I was pumped. I managed to push through a lot further than I had before and that was progress, even though I ultimately paid for my excessive hesitation. That made me feel-less awful. I managed to climb the rest of the route with only one more hang.

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I worked out the moves on the upper half and lowered down.

Jason gave me some encouraging feedback when I got down, “You looked strong up there man, you got this, you just have to go for it.”

I appreciated his words but I thought to myself, ‘What is he talking about?!’ I felt like a bumbling lump of dung up there and I felt anything but strong.

I took a break from climbing to belay Jason on top rope as he took a run at route. The difference in our height and reach provided him with his own set of challenges. The moves and sequences that had worked for me, were useless for him-I am 6’3 and I have pretty a sizable reach, so he had to figure out the route in a completely different way than I did. Neither of us got to the top cleanly. I felt bad that my project was so height dependent. You can be amazingly strong but none of that matters if key holds are out of reach.

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Jason came down and we pulled the top rope down. I would try leading the route again-but the sun was dipping below the horizon and before I was able to tie in, it got COLD. It happened almost instantly. I added layers and blew on my hands. I felt like I had the moves nearly dialed mentally. Now it was just a matter of whether or not I had the power to execute them in the cold.

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That question was answered soon after I climbed back up and quickly clipped the second bolt which protected me from a ledge fall-and promptly flamed out and fell. My power was just gone-I didn’t have enough juice left to send and that was that.

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I hung at my way to the top, anxious clean our gear off the route so we could go home and warm up. I took care to memorize the moves I was doing, because I knew I would have only one more chance to send; day 365. I would have to watch more video and take an easy day of bouldering, which Jason assured me he was fine with. More waiting, more anxiety. Wedgie was beginning to chafe at me and all I could do was wait for my last chance to send.

Diabetes and a wedgie (part 1)

Diabetes and a wedgie (part 1)

I wanted the final 5 days of Project 365 to go off with a bang. I rolled into Las Vegas feeling like I had to deliver. Everyone I had been meeting kept asking me, “wow, have you gotten super strong after climbing that much?”.

Although I would always offer a feeble attempt at explaining that building strength hinges on adequate rest, something I was purposefully avoiding, I couldn’t just say “no” without feeling like an unworthy hack. Plus, I thought I had gotten a little stronger despite my schedule-so I had to set the bar high and hope that I could deliver in the end. I had Nick and Stefanie following me around with cameras, capturing my every move-which was comforting knowing that we would be tallying up good footage for the documentary, but it always drew inquiring glances from other people. When you climb with a crew shooting you, it’s tough to maintain a low profile.

Either you have to be super extroverted and tell everyone what you’re up to so they understand that despite the cameras, you’re not some stuck up jerk with an entourage, or just focus on taking care of business and risk being seen as some stuck up jerk with an entourage. I enjoy meeting people and talking about Project 365 but certain times are better for that than others-and when I am trying to send my project, I want to focus on not shattering my lower extremities rather than small talk-but at the same time I hate feeling like I am impinging on other people’s experience who are also out climbing! It usually works itself out naturally enough and nearby climbers turn out to be nice people who are psyched for our effort-but I worry about things. That’s what I do. It’s probably a good thing I don’t write stream-of-consciousness style.

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Day 360: Our arrival in Las Vegas coincided with bitterly cold weather that was slotted to continue right until the last day of the project, after which point it was supposed to warm up and be pleasant again. I had inadvertently signed up to do the hardest climbing of the project, with daytime highs in the 30s. As we went out for a light day of 3rd class scrambling and bouldering in Red Rock Canyon, it snowed as we left the parking lot and began hiking.

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I had been feeling dizzy all day. Stomach pain added to the building fear that I would wind up battling the flu, eaking out the last days of Project 365 with all the power and excitement usually associated with a wet sponge. Hitting up a climbing gym in between runs to the bathroom would be a pretty exciting way to finish, right?

Each time I would lean my head back to look up, my surroundings would spin. Nick asked me if I needed to turn back, but I felt that since my condition was miserable but not deteriorating, that I would press on. I found a boulder split by a hand crack and I was able to climb it by groping my way up and down the fissure, which was handy because if I had been climbing the face, having to look up for my holds, I probably would have wrecked myself in the process.

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It was cold. But as I kept moving, I felt considerably better. “What will Jason think when he arrives in two days?” I wondered to myself repeatedly as we climbed up to the top of a large sandstone fin that allowed us a sweeping panorama of a million rocks that could be climbed. As the cold wind cut through my frankly insufficient layers, I worried that Jason might be bummed to have flown all the way from New York to Vegas only for the desert to be colder than the east coast!

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Day 361: I woke up feeling considerably better. The dizziness and stomach pain were gone. I assumed that the flu couldn’t deal with listening to my worrying and anxiety and decided to find more hospitable quarters. My blood sugar was cooperative, so I kept my insulin routine the same as always. Split the Lantus into two half doses of 10 and 2-4 units of Humalog with meals. We would eat early enough that my bolus would peak and decline before starting the approach, so that helped keep lows at bay.

We decided to head out to work on my project, the hardest roped climb that I had attempted-ever-a gently overhanging, thin and sustained 5.12b called “Wedgie” of all things (hence the title of this post!). I began working on this route last February at the start of the project and while I had been close to sending, it had always eluded me. I had done all of the moves, but I had not been able to link them together without falling or hanging. I had been so close so many times that it began to feel like it was just not possible to be anything more than close. I spent so much effort working that route that it consumed me last winter and I had to step away from it, because it had started to get in my head and affect my confidence.

Here is some video of the process of shooting this climb last February…when it was a LOT warmer!

Red Rock Prime (behind the lenses) from Living Vertical on Vimeo.

 

This route faces south and on a cold day, it holds some of the best odds for finding any warmth in the canyon. As we hiked up to the base of the route, I tried to remember the sequences and moves from last year. I wondered if it would feel easier or harder. ‘Maybe I’ll get it on my first go. That will be sort of anti-climactic.’ I thought.

Last February when I attempted this route, my sugar had been running high and I thought that may have been contributing to my failure to send. Now, my sugar was good, hovering between 100-120…if only I could just get the sun to come out…

We got to the base of the route and all of the nearby warm-ups were occupied. It was overcast, so it felt like 30 degrees and the wind did little to help the situation. I was immediately distracted by the other people climbing. I felt frustrated that I had to perform with the pressure of other people watching. I had failed in my mind before I ever tied into the rope. In my haste and poor judgement, I decided to skip warming up on an easier route before I got on my project. I bouldered around and did some calisthenics hoping that it would be good enough. It was so cold and I could see snow blowing in from across the canyon. I decided to just give it a try and hope that I could climb through the crux fast enough to cross this troublesome route off my list.

I tied in and climbed up to the ledge below the first bolt where the hard climbing started. I clipped in and got about three moves further before I hesitated. Either I had gotten weaker or the route had gotten harder. Maybe both. It seemed so foreign and the only familiar bit was how infuriating the complete lack of footholds were. When I say there are no footholds down low on the route, that’s not an exaggeration. It’s smooth as a turtle shell down there. I pulled down on the starting hold, stabbing at footholds and found nothing. I stabbed at tiny rugosities with my feet, my flailing legs resembling those of a ventriloquists dummy.

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The holds were small. Not really handholds, more like fingerholds. I felt the sharp, thin crimps biting into as much of my fingertips as I could cram onto each hold-and it hurt. My fingers were so cold that I couldn’t fully feel anything except searing pain when bearing down hard on a tiny hold. All I could think was that if I made one move further and fell, I would hit the ledge below and break my foot. Stefanie broke her foot leading back in 2007 on a similarly protected route and I got to sit through her arduous and painful recovery. I couldn’t afford to take the chance of getting injured with 4 days remaining.

I felt humiliated. I felt like a coward as I desperately down-climbed to avoid falling and then sagged onto the rope. Why couldn’t I do it? I knew I had gotten stronger and I felt sure that this route was physically within my limits. Violently shaking my hands out, I willed the blood and feeling to return to my hands. I kept throwing myself at the opening moves and failing to get past that first bolt. The first 30 feet held the hardest concentration of moves-I had to get through that and still have energy to complete the upper half of the route. I had expected to cruise the hard part at the bottom and simply conserve enough energy to make it through the top half. Instead, it was back to square one. This was worse than last winter. Great. What a way to finish the project-public humiliation.

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I had gotten cut down to size. I hadn’t made it past the opening moves of the route and I had 4 days to make it happen. Everyone was watching the project now and another type 1 climber (Jason) would be flying in from across the country to climb with me. I had dragged Nick and Stefanie and all their camera gear out to shoot me flailing and hanging on the first bolt. As I felt completely unworthy of anyone’s attention having failed completely—it started pounding snow. That seemed a fitting end to the day and we packed up to go back to Nick’s place for the night.

It was pretty quiet in the car on the drive back. I don’t think that my feelings were well concealed despite the absence of words. I can deal with failure-I can’t deal with self-defeat. If I go out and give my best effort and it is beyond me, then so be it. But I was held down not by a lack of physical strength but because of my mind’s weakness. I didnt let myself go all out because I was afraid. The holds were small, but I did not actually fall off-I had hung there dithering about trying to find an easier, more secure way to climb through the hard moves to safety only to down climb and let go.

Three hundred sixty one days of climbing and I was still myself. The same old, self defeating, self loathing-no matter what I did, I was still me. Climbing forces you to look at yourself honestly-in the best and worst light. At the end of the day, you cannot obfuscate the truth when you are taking stock of your own performance-and sometimes what you find is not what you want to see.

Back at Nick’s house that night I started watching the footage from last February to see what I had done differently. I got over the days failure and put my effort into visualizing my success on the crux sequence. Next time I went out, I would dial in the moves and just go for it.

Day 362: We slept in and tried to take an easy day of bouldering in order to recover.

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In the sun it was reasonably warm and it felt so good, but my mind was preoccupied with sending my project. I stayed on easy boulder problems as a result-which also helped me conserve my power for the following day-because Jason would be arriving from New York and I wanted to be as fresh as possible, not haggard and discouraged. I spent a lot of time reviewing video again that night, hoping that if I could fully visualize my success through the crux that I would simply go out the next day with Jason and send it.

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The Aftermath (sort of)

The Aftermath (sort of)

Since completing Project 365 last week I stepped away from climbing and blogging to relax a little bit-to take a bit of time to revel in the success of this venture. I found that relaxation was hard to come by-and that anxiety was plentiful. In order to stay occupied I have been spending my time editing photos and preparing to share my account of the final 5 days of Project 365 and the grand finale. “Processing” would probably be the appropriate term. I have only bouldered a little bit and that little bit has been very comforting. Good habits can die hard too.

For the last year I have been focusing on the minutia of the daily routine of climbing and traveling, to the exclusion of most everything else-without having much time to actually stop and digest what was happening. Many days I would just force myself to zone out everything other than getting through the days climbing because I couldn’t think about all of the unknown and risk beyond that without my mind imploding. Not having a home and living on the road forces you into a different headspace. Now, we have a small apartment, and the reintegration has begun. On January 16th, everything just sort of hit me-like I had come to a complete halt, a near reversal of all my momentum up til that point. To be honest, I feel very little completion. I don’t feel relieved on a grand scale. I don’t feel like the Project is truly finished.

I have felt a bit rudderless, like I am drifting without much direction. Sleep is hard to come by and I have been forcing myself to enjoy watching cartoons and I even started playing old Nintendo games on my computer in between editing and writing to try and keep my wheels from spinning out of control. It’s been a challenge-an adjustment. I wasn’t prepared for it-and I have heard from other friends who have taken on big projects that this type of comedown period is normal. It occurs to me that challenge IS change and there isn’t really an effective way to prepare for change other than accepting that you have to ride it out and let it get better.

I feel like drawing a connection between this point I am making and living with diabetes is too obvious for me to bother specifying, but I could be too deep in my head to recognize that such a point needs to be made. Sometimes (many times, in my experience) no matter what the challenge, you have to let it get better which only happens when you stop trying to make it better. So that’s what I am doing-surrendering to the process.

I can feel the adjustment happening a little bit at a time and I know that this is all for the best. I also have been sorting out ideas for the future-both personally and for LivingVertical as an organization. It’s been obvious to me for some time that Project 365 is a good start-a good way to demonstrate our mission and raise awareness, but my goal in the next steps are to DO more to engage others.

I have been getting a decent amount of questions on our facebook page and I am excited to start answering those questions in the coming blogs. The focus of LivingVertical now is fulfilling the perks for Project 365 contributors and creating the documentary about the Project to give back to the community. I am excited at this challenge-but we are producing this work in house (meaning Stefanie and I, working out of a dimly lit one bedroom apartment!) and we are learning as we go. Contrary to what Hollywood would have you believe, movies are not put together through the week in order to entertain people on the following weekend. My goal is for you to be watching our film in approximately 6 months. I am excited to share the play by play of that process with you all!

So yes, this blog is sort of an icebreaker to get the ball re-rolling as we look toward new horizons. I am interested in taking questions-so please leave comments here or on the LivingVertical Facebook page. This week, I will be telling you about the last several days of Project 365 and the hail-Mary finish-with a LOT of photos!

 

365 days later

365 days later

One year ago I started climbing in an attempt to share my vision of diabetes advocacy and empowerment. Today, on my 15th anniversary of my diagnosis with type 1 diabetes, I can’t really believe that it’s over. Maybe that’s because it’s not…

I have repeatedly gotten the question in the last few weeks: “What will you do once the project is finished? Will you stop climbing?”

In short my plans are as follows:

  • Take a week off to relax and establish a more permanent residence in Springdale Utah where Stefanie and I have decided to settle now that the project is complete.
  • Begin moving forward with creating a documentary out of the 2 terabytes of raw footage and photos that were captured over the course of this year.
  • Continue sharing the LivingVertical mission of empowering, inspiring and educating-naturally both on line and through in person presentations
  • Solidify my plans for the next LivingVertical climbing project, update the website and announce what I hope you all will find to be some exciting new goals as we refine our focus moving forward.

Regarding my personal climbing:

I have had a great opportunity to take on Project 365 and I learned a great deal about myself and developed as a climber. Having said that, Project 365 was not a focused athletic endeavor since so much of my effort was spent in travel, blogging, filming and establishing LivingVertical as an organization. I have been wearing literally every hat on the proverbial rack, and so while it may sound greedy, I have to admit that I have not “scratched the itch” in terms of my climbing. I look at the completion of Project 365 as the beginning of serious training and moving towards finding my limit in an athletic sense. The best is yet to come!

 

Update from Red Rock

Update from Red Rock

Climbing with Jason has been awesome and I am looking forward to the remaining two days we have together.

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Today was our first day out together so we kept it pretty casual for the first bit then after a decent warm up we started working on my project together.

This route has been my nemesis since February 2012 and while I was able to do all of the moves, I was unable to link them all in a single push without falling. I tried Saturday to go for it and while I dusted off the cobwebs I was still unable to send.

I felt utterly defeated and got in my head. Fear of falling is a lot harder to block out when you’re using a rope because you’re constantly reminded that its a very real possibility.

This route is very personal to me. And climbing is a deeply personal. I know that even without sending this route I would have a great deal of support and love for completing 365 days consecutively.

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But I want this. I want it for me. I am not content to push only the limits that others have or perceive. I have to push MY limits or I am just acting.

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Fear is real. Fear is something I am dealing with a lot. I try to hide it sometimes and stack the deck in my favor so I can cheat around it. But unless I confront and overcome my “adversary” there can be no progress.

Climbing, diabetes, heights…these are just masks worn by our fear. We must be responsible to fight that fear or else we are living our lives in muted colors. The summit, the “send” are arbitrary things we compete for-the growth is in breaking through barriers.

So this route has tested me. It will test me more until I choose to break through. I came very close today while working the route with Jason. I panicked and doubted myself. I wanted to hang. My forearms were flamed and my head was rattled. I was about to give up and he yelled up to me “no, keep going”.

So I did. Not very far but I made it to the next bolt and a couple moves after. I didn’t obliterate the “wall” in my mind but I put a few big cracks in it. I pushed myself farther physically on a lead climb than I have yet.

I’m ready to take the next steps.

The final week of Project 365!

The final week of Project 365!

For the last several months I had been wringing my hands about where and how to complete Project 365. I had been getting the questions of “where?” a lot, and I had an internal battle raging as to this decision. One part of me was feeling like I havent done enough “bad-ass” stuff during this year and suggested that I really pull out the stops and try to summit some desert towers in Moab that I missed last spring, then finish the final day by doing a winter ascent of the Grand Teton.

After coming to grips with ice climbing over the last week and weighing the benefit of actually being able to enjoy the climbing as well as finishing off a project route that I have left sitting for the last 9 months…I have decided to pursue another direction. I will finish the project in Las Vegas (Red Rock, NV) where I will be able to devote priority to capturing footage with Nick Percell, our cameraman exraordinare, and where the last days will be a true culmination of the project, with my two main partners in this endeavor-Rob and my wife Stefanie.

To top it all off, I will finish the project climbing with a new partner, Jason Behrstock, a fellow type 1 climber from my home state of New York!

I met Jason through our Facebook page-he sent me a message while I was in New York and we tried to arrange a time to meet up and climb over the summer. The weather wasn’t favorable and rather than have Jason make the trip upstate from the city to get rained out, we opted to postpone climbing together.

Since that time, Jason has been an incredible support as we have navigated the ups and downs of this project. Knowing that there are others like me who have a similar vision of their diabetes combined with the love of challenge and climbing is in itself a huge encouragement! As the project has progressed, partnering with climbers like Jason and Martin and Jessica has made me realize that the idea of diabetes as an incentive to push limits rather than accept them is not just a figment of my own imagination but actually a legitimate (if understated) perspective!

You may also remember this route that I spent several days working this past spring-without success. It stuck in my craw a bit but I believe that I am ready to send at this point and I feel like sending this route with another type 1 climber while surrounded by Rob, Nick and Stefanie will be an awesome way to complete project 365-both from an athletic standpoint and from an idealistic one too!

Stay tuned for the play by play!

Risk management: the siren song

Risk management: the siren song

This weekend I have been enjoying some highball bouldering. I haven’t been on a rope most of this month so I have been trying to find ways to push myself by upping the ante, climbing things that you would really not want to fall off of. Granted, boldness is a relative term, but this is my take on it.

Day 353 highball from Living Vertical on Vimeo.

Climbing is something that starts in the heart. Its like an attraction that you have to a given route-like a relationship in its infancy. You know that if you really feel strongly that it could wind up hurting you in the long run. But when it’s gotten under your skin, no amount of rationalization can stop the snowball from gaining momentum. In my head, there is a certain tipping point, that when it’s crossed, I know that resistance is futile.

Friday, out of nowhere, I got the signal. I just woke up feeling like today was the day for a big boulder to get climbed. Part of me was hesitant, but that part was sitting in the passenger seat, not driving. I drove down to one such boulder and set up a couple of cameras to capture some shots. Putting on my shoes I thought to myself…’is this a good idea?’ I had been looking at this particular line for a long time (years?) and I knew that it was just a matter of time till I gave it a go.

I thought about it and once I got to the top I concluded that it wasn’t a terrible idea. Climbing back down the backside of the boulder however proved to be a spicy affair. At this point I reopened the debate with myself about the wisdom of my choice. It would be the height (no pun intended) of irony to get injured or humiliated (‘excuse me, would you mind driving into town and returning with the biggest ladder you can find-oh and don’t tell anyone please!’) less than five feet from the side of the road…

Eventually after climbing up and down a few possible exit routes, I was able to put the pieces together and I was safely back on the ground, no worse for the wear. I thought about what I learned from this experience-why I had done it. What could I carry forward?

I learned that it’s good mental training. I knew that the rock was solid. I knew that all the moves were there. The only variable in the equation was me-and my goal is to be able to control myself in order to negotiate the moves. Part of this process is also about being honest in my self-assessment and knowing when and where to draw lines-knowing when to follow my heart and when to engage the brain.

The following day I chose to explore another highball boulder that I had scoped out earlier. This boulder was the definition of the siren song of climbing. A beautiful rock, with a beautiful line, straight up the face-in a beautiful position. The afternoon light hit it perfectly and as I walked up to it, I almost was able to overlook the ferocious maw of the yucca plant growing directly at the base of the fall line…

In this picture, I am placing my crashpad over the Yucca plant. I use the word ‘placing’ interchangeably with the word ‘impaling’. It just stuck there, floating, gored by the sinewy spines. I tried not to think about it. I didn’t want to psych myself out.

‘Just don’t fall’ I thought.

I got about 3/4ths of the way up and before committing to the face (out left up the line of obvious holds) I tested a few of the holds that I considered integral to being able to do the final moves to actually reach the top-and several of them crumbled in my hand. I was disappointed but read the handwriting on the wall and cheated up and right to the top via an easier line.

You can see in this photo the line of holds that would lead me to my left (out over the Yucca!) and these were the holds that were coming off…so while I finished straight up from this position, avoiding the truest line, I felt closure. I didn’t complete the route I had come out to do. I acknowledged that it simply wasn’t safe and I decided that I would not come back to it. It felt strangely good to exercise reasonably cautious judgement and not feel hounded by the lack of completion. It felt good to walk away knowing that this one would be better left as is…

But I found another boulder problem to fill this momentary gap!

This line isn’t as tall (although I swear the fisheye lens distorts the reality of this thing-it’s taller than it looks!) as the other two but the likelihood of falling, right at the top where the hardest moves reside, is a lot greater since the moves are harder, the angle is steeper and the holds are smaller!

I spent about an hour working out these moves but ultimately got shut down by my fear. I know that I can do the moves and the landing (should I fall) is a LOT better than either of the other two routes. Also the rock quality is very good, so in a lot of ways I have found a beautiful line that combines good movement and good rock with a spicy-but-not-too-dangerous top out.

I am really excited about this line because it represents a good balance that I am learning to achieve in bouldering. Each time I push my limit and raise the stakes I feel like I am learning more about myself and about my motivations. Fear is a part of any challenge-like diabetes or climbing. Learning to accept that fear after interpreting it is both important and rewarding. Its an ongoing process, I think.

I have been learning to experience and accept both sides of fear. The rational fear that is a legitimate warning of what not to do and the irrational fear that always challenges every decision I make. Its interesting seeing this from a climbing perspective because this is something I have dealt with in diabetes, long before I ever started climbing. I had a bad hypo (severe low blood sugar) episode when I was still in college that made me experience panic attacks every time I would inject my insulin for almost two years after. Even now, when I feel like my sugar is dropping I will eat like the world is coming to an end-because I know that it’s theoretically possible that mine is. But more often than not I am able to listen to the fear sufficiently to treat my symptoms and overlook the irrational fear that tells me to keep eating even while I am waiting for the food I’ve already eaten to hit my bloodstream.

Its just part of life-managing risk. It’s something you are faced with every day, living with diabetes, like it or not. I am excited to take advantage of every opportunity for this condition to pay back dividends in other areas of my life.

Sure diabetes is an obnoxious roommate, always leaving dirty dishes in the sink and being overly affectionate with it’s neverending series of floozy girlfriends in the common living area. I hate the loud music waking me at all hours of the night and the loud chewing noises. But moments like this, when I get to collect the “rent”, I feel like I might just be able to tolerate this unseemly tenant.

 

Taking Diabetes to the next level

Taking Diabetes to the next level

My new years passed as did my Christmas-as somewhat of an afterthought, which nearly slipped past unnoticed. I returned from my 349th consecutive day of climbing, thankful to have survived the initial learning curve of ice climbing in the Wasatch Mountains in Northern Utah. Rob and I had just gotten down from the mountain just as a snow squall blew in. I was concentrating on feeling my fingers and toes while capturing the last minutes of the day in video and still images-while wearing massive, clumpy gloves. Im not sure which of us was the first to acknowledge the holiday-but we forgot again and remembered it several times over.

It just seemed very…distant.

My big achievements on New Years were less about my prowess climbing ice, but rather the fact that I had managed to keep my Dexcom CGM sensor in tact throughout countless layering sessions in the least hospitable weather conditions I have encountered during the project. I had long wondered what proper, technical ice climbing was like. Now, I know…unfortunately, it’s not easy to describe. It’s certainly cold-which slows everything down and makes all of your movements seem clunky and less precise. Layers upon layers take time to painstakingly arrange in order to balance your temperature-too cold and you are in trouble. Too warm and you start sweating and then as soon as you stop moving, BANG your’re freezing!

Its another balancing act-like diabetes! And like diabetes, I found workarounds to get the job done. I learned the value of stripping down to your skin in order to change base layers-20 degrees in a dry t-shirt feels much better than 20 degrees in a wet t-shirt with several layers on top of it! I found that powder on my feet keeps them from sweating-thus keeping them much warmer!

Managing blood sugar in this environment is a lot more cumbersome than in other scenarios I have encountered. The layers (two pair of gloves too), the fact that glucose meters are not rated for use at such cold temperatures, the fact that it takes seemingly forever to do anything are definite obstacles. You cant do much with double gloved hands, so first thing, the gloves must come off. Immediately the clock starts ticking. Don’t lose your gloves! Unzip one layer, unbuckle your harness. Pull up your shirt and fish out your insulin. By this point you’re getting a little bit numb but you have to prime the pen and shoot up, manipulating your needles and such with precision. Then once you’ve dosed, its a race to get everything covered up, tucked in and rewarmed while your hands are still functional. Oh, and make sure your insulin gets put back inside your jacket because it needs to stay warm enough that it doesn’t freeze.

Whew. All done. Now time for a snack. Try to open packaging with gloves on…AARRRRGGGH!

The physical act of ice climbing, aside from the challenging context of the cold, honestly felt very foreign. I thought that there would be more cross over from rock climbing to ice climbing. Turns out, I am a complete gumby and felt pretty demoralized, struggling on moderate terrain. Its very technique oriented-not nearly as force oriented as you would think, given all the kicking and axe swinging that it entails. Its really very balancey and delicate. You have to be forceful but smooth and precise-not struggling against the insecurity of your position. Again, lots of parallels with diabetes. Accept it, and rise above it or struggle and flail for all your efforts.

I initially wondered if the “feeble” circulation of a type 1 diabetic would be able to handle sustained exposure to cold let alone allow me to get after it and perform adequately. In ice climbing, there is a term called “the screaming barfies” which references the rewarming process of very cold hands that are also pumped out from the simultaneous strain of climbing. I encountered this phenomenon and survived it. Turns out, I stayed reasonably warm and diabetes lost another chance to lay me low in the mountains. I have room to improve and I am excited to make that happen.

The new year’s arrival reinforced how the end of the project has been looming over the holidays and the thought I have been left with (more of a question really): how do I take it to the next level? What comes next?

Certainly the project needs to be wrapped up and processed once it’s complete. We have to send out the perks to all the wonderful people who contributed to this journey. I will be creating a cogent (hopefully!) documentary out of the 2TB of footage that we have captured and will be giving that documentary back to the community to empower people with diabetes…

But that isn’t the end. I can’t yet see exactly what’s around the corner, but I know there is a lot more to do-this project has whetted my appetite, seeing what one person can inspire through taking on moderate challenges on a daily basis. I say moderate because most people of average athleticism could keep pace with me on any given day. The act of repetition and the psychological duress of being apart from my loved ones are really where the meat of the challenge occurred.

So…what variables are in play in order to go bigger? Bigger challenges-harder routes, longer, more austere objectives? More people engaging a given challenge? Yes. The next level is out there. I am ready and I know I am not alone in this.

The mountains are harsh. Scary. Unpredictable. There are plenty of limitations out there that I can’t overcome. Gravity, rock quality, difficulty of a given route, weather…But type 1 diabetes is not one of those limitations. I will not live quietly beneath the perceived limitations of this condition-and I know I am not alone in this.

 

 

 

 

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