Kilimanjaro Archives -

Independence.

By Steve on April 3, 2014 in LivingVertical

Change comes slowly. But with progress, it DOES occur. I’ll cut to the chase because this isn’t another rambling post about one of my existential crises. Yet. Maybe in a few paragraphs…for now it’s an announcement!

The LivingVertical Shop…is, at long last, open! This means that you can now buy DVDs of the Project365 documentary, (also available as digital download) and LivingVertical Tees. In the future, we will be selling books and limited edition photo prints as well!

This is a big step. Ok, fine, to be fair, it’s still me selling tees and DVDs out of cardboard boxes in my CRV. It’s far from a Swiss-watch merchandising operation. It’s going to be another slow path that will undoubtedly contain bumps and ruts. The good news is that it’s a starting point-and who knows where that can lead!

LivingVertical has always been supported by you-real people who connect with the message of diabetes empowerment and get behind it. That support has been a gift-because you were willing to invest in an idea that couldn’t initially stand on its own. It gives me a lot of hope and excitement to be able to actually offer products that represent the fruit of those investments-and opportunities for this message to grow as Team LivingVertical is gathering steam to do some incredible things in the coming months and years partnering with Insulin for Life.

I’ve said many times that I’d love to find corporate support that would allow us to give tees and DVDs away for free and simply focus on climbing projects and outreach-but now that’s a luxury, not a necessity. Getting the message of empowerment out to as many people who will look or listen-that’s always been the goal. The official opening of a shop, even a jingus, duct-tape-and-shoestring one, brings us closer to the assurance that we can be sustainable.

If you love what we’re doing, share these products on your social media. Help us get the word out. If you hate what we’re doing, subscribe to our YouTube Channel-remember, at 5k subscribers we will release the full documentary free, online-so you can remove 2/3rds of our inventory that way too…

Suffering is your friend

By Steve on April 2, 2014 in Fitness, team livingvertical

We are exploring the theme of “change” as a team-and we are looking through a variety of “lenses” at what this means for us as we each deal with diabetes in our own way. I’ll kick things off…

This morning I did something very unusual. Well, for me, it was a BIG change. I went running-that’s right, on purpose! Before you runners get all excited and label me a “convert”, please understand that this is just cross training for the Team LivingVertical 2014 LEAD expedition. It’s a necessary evil. Just kidding. Sort of.

If you haven’t yet guessed, I am not a runner. When I lace up my kicks and start going for it, I begin hating life within a few short moments. It’s not like climbing which makes me feel alive-running makes me feel like I am dying. As I was doing my best to embrace this process as a “good” thing, I was struck with a relatively interesting thought: suffering, self denial, discomfort, inconvenience are all necessary to create the benefit of fully appreciating and understanding ones fitness and health.

“Up early”. “Running”. Words which DO NOT often apply to me. Time for a change!

I posted a version of this musing up on the Facebook Page and it spawned some discussion-some agreeing, some dissenting.

Post by LivingVertical.

First off there is the obvious fact that suffering makes you appreciate what you have. For example, being out in the elements always “improves” the comforts of home by simply changing our attitude toward what we take for granted. The process of running, no matter how hateful at first, will ultimately benefit me through improving my metabolism, cardio-function, insulin sensitivity etc-and it will improve my climbing abilities on some level-assuming I continue to push through the part where I hate it.

Beyond this, however, it occurred to me that it is only through significant challenge (this is a more objective way of saying “suffering”, just so we don’t wind up playing semantic tiddlywinks later in the comments section) that we gain awareness of how complex our bodies are. How they respond to changes in our sleep. Our diet. Our thinking and emotions. I know that without diabetes, I would not have the awareness of how these variables produce measurable change in my performance.

But even beyond diabetes-try sitting in a chair all the time. Don’t break a sweat. Avoid physical effort at all costs. Suddenly being fit or healthy loses a lot of value. You can be dehydrated, sleep deprived, weak, poorly nourished-and still get by without a measurable incentive to change those things if your lifestyle is sedentary. If you’re not taking on challenges that make the fitness matter-tangibly-then what’s the point? It’s really hard to prioritize fitness that you don’t test-and it’s hard to test anything without pushing it to the limit.

I’m speaking from my personal experience, because for the last several months, that has been my life. Recently, I embraced change and I got off my behind to start dedicating time to training. I began to make better food choices. I began to feel the difference between 5 and 7 hours of sleep in a very real way. Drinking nothing but coffee and coke zero began to exact a very painful toll on me as I attempted to climb or run-so I began going to bed earlier. Drinking more water. Eating (and drinking!) less junk-and feeling the benefit in the moments of hateful exertion.

It’s surely a process. I know that the point of suffering is to gain durability and transcend the discomfort. Push that limit. Then, start over and push that new limit further. Change is a constant. Pushing limits is a constant process of growth. Few things provoke my ire more than when people say (in response to what we are doing here, with climbing) “Oh I could never do that. That’s for extreme athletes. I’m not at that level. I struggle with basic fitness-I’m not like you.”

Newsflash: I struggle all the time.

Headline: It’s not pretty or easy-I have just accepted that struggle as part of the process.

Pushing limits is pushing limits. As your limit changes, you will always be pushing it. That means if your limit is taking the stairs at work three times a week and you are bumping it up to five times a week, you ARE getting after it as much as we are when we go hundreds of feet up a wall or into the wilderness to explore unclimbed routes. That means we are working on the same project as long as we are pushing BACK. Don’t EVER diminish your struggle because of how you think it measures up to someone elses. I am guilty of that a lot. I always feel like a slouch because I feel like I don’t climb “hard enough”. I need to not do that-especially since I am asking you, my esteemed reader not to.

From the beginning of LivingVertical and Project365 I never aimed to inspire people by being a “great athlete”-because as compared to other climbers I am mediocre, sometimes just a little better on a good day. I’m not being modest. That’s a simple fact. Go into any climbing gym and you’ll find a handful of climbers who can send 5.12 with regularity. I’ve climbed two 5.12s in my life and both were gargantuan efforts for me. The real takeaway is what WE are doing together, every time we face our limit, whatever it may be and say, ‘yeah, I know this is going to suck but I am still going to try again’.

Agree? Disagree? Can’t decide? Sound off in the comments below-after subscribing to the LivingVertical YouTube Channel!

The LivingVertical roadshow

By Steve on March 25, 2014 in team livingvertical

This year is a journey. Literally and figuratively. One that will include a month long backcountry expedition and my first experience with parenthood. Living in Utah to train for the spring has been only marginally effective as most of the last several months were spent nursing my injured hand-and not climbing. Healing. Growing comfortable. Now with the birth of my daughter approaching in just over a month, I have a limited time to do everything and be everywhere.

As I look at my predicament, I decide that challenges are an opportunity to design our response to become who we want to be. They give us incentive to grow, and without these challenges we stagnate. We need difficulty. Like diabetes. Like climbing. Like family life. Like all of those rolled into one big ball of wax. I don’t know how I’ll sort it all out-I don’t have a cut and dried plan for the next five years. All I know is what I need to do right now.

I’m going back on the road starting in early April, living out of my car for the next 6 months, give or take. I know that becoming a hobo doesn’t sound like much of a solution-but to be fair, I’m not looking for solutions. Destinations. I’m looking to get down to the nitty gritty and go back to the last place I felt the clarity of struggle, where creativity and inspiration breathe. Sitting in front of the computer, biding my time I only feel the irritation of uncertainty. If I have to get my hands dirty, I want to have something to show for it. I need to climb, train, connect and create-while logistically positioning myself closer to the east coast where the delivery will take place in May. Then after a short time, the 2014 LEAD expedition is on the queue, from July 14-August 14. I may as well go for it!

This will be my home. Again. I’m excited about the shelf-ish that I created for greater organization-because that is the biggest challenge of life on the road. To make it even better, it’s all abandoned/found wood and cardboard. I didn’t have to buy anything new to make it!

So here’s the plan. I’ll be on the road to promote diabetes awareness and empowerment. Again. Climbing wherever possible along the way and I’d like you to join me. Or I’ll join you for a coffee. My goal is to connect with as many people as possible and climb at new areas that I haven’t visited during Project365 or before. I’ll have tee shirts and DVDs and if you’d like, we can even set up a documentary screening when I’m passing through. Here’s the rough map of my planned sojourn (although you’ll want to follow along on our Facebook Page to get the fine details once I hit the road!).

I’ll be updating the blog and social media-there should be lots of photos to share-and I will be posting video blogs on our YouTube Channel so you can see inside the glamorous life of a diabetic climbing hobo. I can’t promise anything. Things might go perfectly to schedule, beautiful weather and no unexpected mishaps. Or the opposite of that. Not knowing, but going for it-that’s a great recipe for adventure!

Stronger than I think I am

By abby on March 18, 2014 in team livingvertical

I’m new to this. The bloody fingers, the math problem called carb counting, the balancing act that is life with diabetes. It’s all so new, and hard to believe that it will be my life forever. I’m also struggling to eliminate gluten from my diet after a recent diagnosis of Celiac disease. It’s hard — really hard — and I feel like I will never get to lead a “normal” life.

When I’m being honest, I’m even fairly new to the vertical world. I started climbing years ago, but it’s really only been in the months since my diagnosis of type 1 that I’ve had the energy and focus to make it a regular practice.

Blood sugar fluctuations, emotional ups and downs, constant stomach aches, utter panic and uncertainty when anyone other than me touches my food. Insane envy as I watch skinny guys stick like spiders to the wall at the gym and kids half my size swinging like monkeys from holds I can only dream of one day reaching. Working odd jobs where I can to make ends meet, and spending every other waking moment attempting to build my career. This is what my life looks like right now.

Last May, during finals week, shortly before my 25th birthday and a few months after the man I love walked out of my life, I landed in ICU with diabetic ketoacidosis. Sometimes I wonder if my pancreas broke the same day that my heart did. Other times, I’m convinced that it was building up after years and years of being stressed and on the go from working and studying and projecting and exams and jobs and all nighters and pursuing a college degree. Or maybe it was the stubborn sinus infection that plagued me throughout the winter.

Regardless of the cause, my body didn’t stop producing insulin until I was a full fledged adult. A grown up with bills to pay, obligations to fill, a household to keep, and nobody to feed me dinner. My mom is amazing, and she came to help me get back on my feet after I was discharged — but she lives on the other side of the state. Eventually she had to go home and I was left to face the world alone with my meter, insulin pens, and an unfamiliar, life-altering disease that most people get to grow up with.

The changes that have come to my life have been many and major, and by no means easy to deal with. I hate how high blood sugar makes me impatient and headachy, how low blood sugar makes it impossible for the words in my head to come out of my mouth, and how swallowing a single bread crumb makes me feel like I got hit by a truck. But I feel more like myself than I ever have. I am understanding myself like I never knew that I could. I feel like I belong somewhere, that I mean something, that I can make a difference. It doesn’t look like the path I thought I would take, or the one I wanted to take through life, but I know with certainty that I am finally on the path that is meant for me.

I had to replace most of my kitchen things to eliminate any traces of gluten. It was easy enough to throw my cheap-o nonstick pans in the Goodwill pile and to toss the splintered wooden spoons in the trash. But the red colander that was my mom’s before it was mine, the one that I’ve been straining pasta with for as long as I can remember? And the pot we bought from the thrift store before I left for college almost 8 years ago that cooks the perfect pot of sticky rice, but has also has heated countless soy based sauces and noodley soups? Those things were hard to get rid of, and more than once as I sorted through my things I found myself in tears thinking “why ME?” “why now?” and “how did this happen?”

When those thoughts cross my mind, I also reflect on the fact that for as long as I can remember I’ve been a picky eater. EXTREMELY picky. The biggest battles I had with my parents as a child were over food — I liked plain meat, plain rice, and plain veggies, nothing else. If someone put a marinade on the meat, sauce on the rice, or gravy on my potatoes I’d refuse to eat it. I have never liked pizza, or pasta, or sandwiches or soup or cereal. I have always felt like a pain in the neck when eating out or at someone else’s house. I would order food but ask for most of the ingredients to be left off or end up scraping the sauce and seasonings to the side of my plate. All of the things that I hated? huge sources of gluten, either obvious or hidden.

I’m realizing that though the official diagnosis only came a few months ago, maybe I’m NOT so new to this. I think that gluten intolerance is something I’ve been dealing with my whole life and I am only just now understanding the reasons for my pickiness. Perhaps the easiest way to deal with it is to listen to my body, to give it what I crave — which still happens to be meat, rice, and veggies. Oh yeah, and now that I’ve discovered gluten free dough, I finally understand that pizza is pretty dang delicious!

Though I still consider myself to be a novice climber, I’ve been surprising myself lately at the progress I’ve made. On my last trip to the gym I was feeling weak and ragged, not climbing particularly hard or well. There was a couple of bros sitting next to me. They were big, buff, and loud as they struggled to climb the problem in front of us. One of them made it halfway up the wall several times in a row before falling in exasperation onto the pad. The other couldn’t seem to stick the first move. “This one’s tough!” I heard one of them say. “I don’t get it,” said the other.

I felt like if these strong guys couldn’t climb the problem, there was no way that I could make it to the top — but when they took a break I tried anyways. The first move was tough, and the middle moves were awkward — but one hold after another I steadily made my way to the end of the problem. As I dropped from the top of the wall, I heard one of them say to the other “yeah man, it’s easy — just do what she did!” and as I sat down on the bench, I thought to myself, maybe I’m not such a bad climber after all.

I started this blog by saying how diabetes is so new to me. I don’t have a lifetime of experience, like many adult type 1′s do. I’ve been dealing with needles and test strips for less than a year. It’s new, yes, but it’s also starting to become routine. Carb counting is now second nature, I don’t have to solve such a structured math problem in my head every time I eat — I just kind of know how much insulin I need. I also know that if I mess it up (which I now understand WILL happen occasionally, no matter how carefully I plan my bolus) I can simply adjust my carb or insulin intake later to fix it.

People who don’t see me frequently often ask me “don’t you need to go take insulin before we eat?” and I laugh to myself, because I already did, and they didn’t even notice. I’m getting the hang of this diabetes thing, and some day it will be second nature for me.

I will leave you with this blurb I wrote just days after my discharge and diagnosis. It captures the minutes when diabetes was REALLY new to me. When I had no idea how to handle the world and my blood sugar at the same time, and when I had to constantly remind myself and those around me that things were forever going to be different. It’s title is “Moment.”

It’s hot and muggy as we pull into the Quickie Mart parking lot. “Here,” says Mom, as she hands  me a five dollar bill, “go get us something to drink.” “OK,” I say, and as I hop down from the truck   she calls after me, “Want to share a Coke?”
I pause. I think about it. They have Mexican Cokes here. The kind that comes in a glass bottle.   The kind that is made with real sugar, not high fructose corn syrup. My favorite.
What feels like an eternity passes in mere seconds, and I shake my head, “no thank you.”  I watch as a wave of something — sorrow? regret? remembrance? — passes across my mother’s   face and I pop into the gas station, returning moments later with an ice-cold bottle of unsweetened tea.

Grow with us.

By Steve on March 17, 2014 in team livingvertical

I’ll keep this short and sweet because I want to spend my day training for the LEAD 2014 project and taking advantage of the fact that my hand is starting to heal. Today I am excited to announce that Team LivingVertical has launched on social media to connect with you as we begin training and preparing to come together from all corners of the country (and possibly the world) to bring our diabetes up remote alpine first ascents this summer.

Here’s what you do. Click this link to follow the team page. Then, reach out and say “Hi”. That’s all.

Follow Team LivingVertical on Facebook

I am proud of what Stefanie and I created through Project365 and your support made that a success-now that effort has brought together a team of diabetic climbers who are raising the bar and are amazing role models and mentors. The team has a lot of experience and inspiration to share so we are expanding our social media outreach accordingly.

Diabetes is what we make of it. It does not have to be our burden-it is our challenge and we will go beyond it through embracing that challenge. This philosophy isn’t an obscure one off, based on a stunt climbing challenge. It’s for everyone, and it’s something we want YOU to participate in and connect with. We are growing and sharing. Grow with us.

Diabetes by number

By Steve on March 10, 2014 in team livingvertical

This week has been interesting. I have nearly OD’ed on diabetes, but not quite. I’ve still got a few more things to say. I spent the time leading up to the weekend going to my endocrinologist, seeing a nurse-diabetes educator (about maybe getting a pump!) and then over the weekend, I was privileged to speak to several hundred people at JDRF Type One Nation events in Boston and Rhode Island. I also got to screen Project365 at the first Rock Type 1 event at Rockspot Climbing near Providence-it was very full, and in a word, awesome.

Screening Project365 at the Rock Type 1 event in Rhode Island

Delivering the JDRF Type One Nation keynote address in Providence RI

Team LivingVerticals youngest crusher, Liam Scott, taking a few laps at the Rock Type 1 event.

So about that diabetes…

I got my A1c result back last week, the dreaded “grade” that you get for your blood sugar management. A1c measures your average blood glucose for the preceding 3 months and because it only comes every several months, it feels like a really big deal. It’s not like a normal “finger-stick” blood test-if those readings come back high, you take some insulin and more or less, it comes down. Take your reading again in a couple hours and it’ll be better. Immediate results.

A1c measurements carry more weight because they are less frequent and when you get a reading that you’re not happy with, you have months before you can hope to get a better “grade”. My A1c was 6.5. I wasn’t happy with myself. That’s an average reading of about 150.

My diabetes and how I deal with it is intensely personal. Just like the concept of “normal”. Or “good” or “bad” or any of the words we are always told not to apply to our diabetes because it’s all “just information”. I don’t dwell on dissatisfaction, I try to improve it-and improvement is relative. Over the last years, my A1c has crept up from 5.9, 6.0, 6.0, 6.2, 6.4 and now 6.5.

6.5 isn’t anything to sneeze at. It’s not a “bad” A1c. I know many other people with diabetes might celebrate that reading. But I don’t compare my diabetes to anyone elses and I wouldn’t want anyone comparing theirs to mine. At the end of the day, I want to support anyone who is psyched with a 7.5 or whatever their number is. If that’s your target and you hit it, that’s awesome-its awesome because it’s YOUR target! I won’t tell you that your target should be more similar to mine-because that’s not my place and I couldn’t possibly make that assessment. On the other hand, I will aim for my target without distraction, because…it’s mine.

Diabetes, like climbing, is about personal progress. It’s a journey. Ups and downs. Seeing someone climb a route rated 5.9 who has been stuck at 5.8 for a while is awesome! I will high five them and be totally stoked for their progress. I’ll also expect them not to give me a hard time when I am not satisfied with falling off a 5.9 after climbing 5.11 with consistency. It’s not about comparing our progress with someone else (at least not for the purpose of judgement) it’s about staying motivated to always seek progress. Giving your best effort. I know I could make more of an effort, so I need to step it up.

Complacency is something I have always struggled with and so I know that when I am “satisfied” with anything I do, my decline is immanent. I’ve seen it in my climbing and my diabetes since the conclusion of Project365 and I am not ok with that. Please don’t mistake my openness about my own motivation as judgement. I am just opening the window into my experience with diabetes. Yours will vary, and I am right there with you, psyched for where you are-and for what you are progressing toward.

I should point out that it is possible to artificially achieve “low” A1c results by inducing frequent low blood sugars, which numerically “fix” the highs and give a seemingly nice tidy average. This type of “cheating” can land you with a 6.0 that really is less healthy than a steady 6.5. I don’t recommend that approach, and I can honestly say that I have not taken that approach in the past. Keeping blood glucose in range more often than not is more important than the “grade” you get from the lab every several months. I know this. I also know that grades don’t matter when you climb and times don’t matter when you run…

Having said that, my hand is healed enough to start climbing again. I’ll be starting out on 5.7s and 5.8s, because that the hardest I’ll be able to climb right now-and after three months not climbing, I WILL be happy with that.

For now!

(Subscribe to LivingVertical on YouTube. Tell your friends to subscribe too. At 5k subscribers we will release the full Project365 documentary)

The will to LEAD

By Steve on March 4, 2014 in LivingVertical

This past week I have been on the road promoting LivingVertical and sharing about our upcoming LEAD initiative at JDRF Type One Nation events. Part of this process has involved distillation of the message of what we are doing and why-because I am going to be delivering keynote addresses in New England this weekend which center around the theme of empowerment-and as I have shared many times, I still struggle with concise messaging-because what we are doing doesn’t seem to easily “fit” anywhere. We aren’t a climbing camp nor are we professional athletes. Beyond those categories people start scratching their heads, and so we have to get a little more in depth to distill the mission.

I was asked at the JDRF DC Research summit after explaining about the Team LivingVertical expedition to climb in Wyoming this summer- “Well, have you ever thought about climbing Kilimanjaro for charity?” And while I thought about the reasons I had not, it occurred to me that what we are doing through the LEAD initiative places us in somewhat uncharted territory, as far as I can tell. It’s like climbing a first ascent-and still we may get 90% of the way through just to find out that it’s all been done before-and that’s ok too.

We aren’t climbing to raise funds for research. We aren’t climbing to promote a corporate sponsor. We aren’t trying to tag one of the seven summits that everyone will recognize. We also aren’t just climbing for our own entertainment. All of those are valid objectives, but they are not what we have chosen to do. So then what is left?

I’ll break it down. We are climbing to help people get access to basic diabetes supplies that have been brought about through all the research advances over the years. It’s important that new research is happening, and it’s wonderful that so many people and companies are supporting research but it’s also important that the benefit of that research is accessible to ALL people, not just a few. That’s why we hooked up with Insulin For Life. That’s all they do-supply clinics in the developing world with lifesaving medicine, and we can help them advance that mission!

The 2014 LEAD project is a grassroots initiative by climbers who have cobbled together enough savings and time off to get behind an expedition undertaken through minimalism. It’s real and its pure. Our allegiance is only to our message and mission. Don’t get me wrong, we’d love to have corporate partners who get on board and support what we are doing-but LivingVertical has always been about doing more with less, and it’s important to be able to be independent and stay true to the message.

What about climbing Mount Everest? Or Kilimanjaro (again)? Shouldn’t we climb more recognizable summits? This is something I have struggled with, because I want our projects to have maximum impact. On the other hand, what kind of message does it send if we take on projects that cost exorbitant amounts? Everest costs about 60,000 on average to climb and it’s been done. A lot. That’s not a bad thing-and I won’t say that its basically a “hike at altitude” or anything else to diminish the task. It was a huge privilege that I got to climb Kili this past fall, and I can tell you that altitude packs a punch, regardless how non-technical the terrain or how many climbers have come before you.

We have to be true to ourselves, and part of that is simple honesty about what appeals to us and what does not. All climbing involves risk and facing that risk requires conviction and inspiration. You can’t and shouldn’t climb any mountain because of what you worry other people might think.

That said, our goal is taking diabetes to places where it hasn’t been, to push into the unknown. If that means taking more time to explain our surroundings because they aren’t immediately recognizable, that’s a good thing. That’s kind of the point!

We are climbing according to our own standards but not just for our own entertainment. This may be hard to truly gather from a blog post, but as with Project365, there are many many logistical challenges associated with trying to capture and share this experience that dramatically skew the “fun factor” away from the climbing vacation you may be envisioning when we say “One month unsupported in the Wyoming backcountry putting up first ascents“.

As we move forward, there may be a lot more conversations explaining what we are doing and why. Challenges from those who feel our time, money and impact could be better spent elsewhere. I welcome those kind of exchanges. We are trying to start conversations about advocacy, empowerment and getting out of comfort zones. Breaking out of the normal expected roles that people with diabetes fulfill. Unconventional routes to advocacy have the greatest potential to reach outside the circle of those who already are informed.

There is risk in climbing, in diabetes…in life. It only stands to reason that there is risk in the process of creating a change. Now my hand is almost healed so I am ready to tie back in to the rope and start writing the message of diabetes empowerment in stone again. We have much to do and very little time.

Diabetes and injury: ingredients for improvement?

By Maria Cruz on February 24, 2014 in team livingvertical

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Last year I was really motivated to climb harder. I was finally coming to believe that I could keep on evolving as a climber despite diabetes. Then, when I was working on a route that could become my first 5.12d, I had this really nasty fall and smashed my foot against the wall. My foot swelled and for almost a week I couldn’t even touch the floor without feeling huge pain; three ligaments were seriously injured. No one would tell me how long it would take to recover, but I somehow believed I would be back climbing soon.

Stuck at home, I decided to clean the dust off the fingerboard I had for 2 years and had barely used because I would always prefer to climb outside. I started training hard on it. I also started to do lots of exercises for the core and arms, looking on the internet for variations that I could do lying on a mat.

After a month of this, my body started to complain and I had to reduce my training load. I was still on crutches despite all the physiotherapy and was getting very desperate for not seeing an end to it. And now I couldn’t even train! I had a week off training and after that I somehow managed to keep on with it.

After two months and a half I finally went on a “girls boulder trip” organized by some friends. I was scared of hurting my foot again as it was still far from recovered, but my friends insisted that I could do just overhangs to avoid falling on my foot and assured me that they would be extra cautious with spotting me. I went. I spent the whole weekend with a huge smile on my face! I tried all the boulders I could safely try and was the last one to put down the climbing shoes. I was so happy to be climbing again, even if it was with some limitation…

About 5 months after the accident I was finally climbing with no restrictions. I felt stronger and started to send hard boulder problems, including overhanging ones which I could not even hang to before. I was so happy to climb outside that I almost stopped training. But if there is something this injury taught me is that training can make a huge difference for breaking into new grades, especially for someone like me, to whom strength has always been the most limiting factor.

Also, I’ve come to realized that training only has significant effects on my blood sugar if I’m pushing really hard. If I’m feeling tired and broken most of the days, my blood sugar starts looking like that of a non-diabetic, hardly rising over 120. Climbing outside a couple of days a week and soft “maintenance” training doesn’t have that effect.

I spent 36 years without knowing what real work outs are and what they can do, and only learned this with the improbable combination of a serious injury and diabetes!
So, with the new year, I’ve set a new training plan. I want to finish the year climbing harder than ever and keep my AC1 lower than 6,3% for the whole year! My plan includes waking up earlier 4 days a week to do rowing or circuits (a sequence of exercises targeted for specific muscle groups with little rest between them); doing specific climbing training 3 evenings per week (either indoor climbing or fingerboard) and climbing outdoors during the weekends.

It’s demanding! It is really hard to keep with high training intensities for long periods: work gets in the way, laziness gets in the way… but as soon as I start to reduce it’s intensity, my BGs will be there showing very clearly that I’m not pushing hard enough!

Team LivingVertical is taking the L.E.A.D. this summer to Go Beyond Diabetes in the vertical world
to gain support for Insulin For Life (501c3)!

2014 L.E.A.D. Expedition

By Steve on February 16, 2014 in Rock Climbing, team living vertical, team livingvertical

And now for something completely different: a team of diabetic climbers test themselves in a remote wilderness on unexplored climbing routes. Team LV is going big for the 2014 L.E.A.D.

Photo Credit: Summitpost.org user Wes Collins

Since the conclusion of Project365 I have struggled with a search for inspiration in my climbing-and without that, any possible LivingVertical ventures seemed to be fairly lifeless and mundane, regardless how superficially exotic they might be in concept. It has taken about a year of fairly lackluster climbing and bouncing around between ideas of risk and reward to get back to the heart of it all. I thought of what climbing means to me-not as an athletic pursuit or a hobby-but as a way of life. Since I graduated college, everything I have done, relationships I have nurtured and neglected, jobs I have taken and left, places I have lived…all have been determined in some way based on their impact on my climbing. No other thing has played as integral a role in my life-except possibly my diabetes. They are like yin and yang, intertwining positivity and negativity to complete the balance of motivations in my life.

Insulin on a big wall

But for 2014 it is not just me-it’s Team LivingVertical making a statement and we have decided on a method by which to write our message in stone. Literally. It all comes down to exploration. Peering into the unknown and simply finding a way, with no guarantee of success or safety. Diabetes forces us to measure ourselves many times daily, according to criteria that we refuse to allow to define us. Climbing forces us to measure ourselves differently, based on what we aspire to, rather than what we wish to avoid.

For one month this summer (July 14-August 14) Team LivingVertical will be heading into the Wind River Range in central Wyoming, with the goal of putting up first ascents-L.E.A.D. 2014. I’d guess that many of you haven’t heard of the Winds. The Grand Teton, Mt Ranier, Denali-those are peaks that are widely known-largely because they are widely traveled, relatively speaking. We chose the Winds as an objective because they are WILD. They are remote-help is not just around the corner. Risk is as real as the consequences. Only a handful of people pass through the lesser traveled portions of this range every year (where we will be climbing) and route information is sparse. This is where adventure lives and breathes-way off the beaten path!

There is no style of climbing that emphasizes adventure and commitment more than putting up new routes-and this is also art. The style in which we climb will be part of our message as well-light and fast, without a support crew-we will climb what we can ascend under our own power, by fair means. This is grassroots adventure fueled by a mild obsession with getting out and pushing further and harder-taking diabetes to new extremes as a team.

In planning the 2014 L.E.A.D. expedition, the word that kept coming into my mind was “pure”. Without getting into the concepts of “absolute” purity (walking to the climbing area, burning no fossil fuels, climbing naked with no ropes or safety gear and eschewing any forms of assistance) I wanted to see how we could actually do MORE than just sending a message of empowerment regarding diabetes, to the world. Don’t get me wrong, I believe fully in empowerment-but how can we empower people in the Philippines or Ecuador who have no insulin to begin with? A message of empowerment won’t do them any good without basic life-saving tools and medications. The 100 Campaign, Spare a Rose and other initiatives got me thinking that we could actually help an ongoing effort by partnering with Insulin For Life USA who are a 501c3 non-profit grassroots organization. They embrace the “light and fast” ethic in their world as well, emphasizing efficiency and commitment to supplying clinics worldwide with the medicine needed to keep people with diabetes alive.

Climbing and diabetes will always have a lot in common. Risk, commitment, ethics, discipline, controlling fear…but for 2014 we will push ourselves in new ways. We will send a message that adventure exists right here in our own back yard-the wildness of the endeavor has less to do with how widely known the objective is and more to do with how unspoiled it is. We will L.E.A.D. by doing and we will write this legacy in stone.

(and yes, you can expect a film or two coming out of this effort as well!)

Project Kilimanjaro!

By Steve on December 30, 2013 in project kilimanjaro

This has been a long time coming friends! I struggled with the narrative on this because so much of my concentration has been on Project365 and getting that out and available to be screened and shared. The holidays for me have consisted of work-or what might seem like work if I didn’t love what I am doing. It’s not entirely conventional to have steel-cage death match days with ones computer over the holidays, but this time has actually helped give me some breathing room and I am really stoked to be able to share this edit with you before we head into 2014.

This short film is just about my personal experience climbing Kili this past year and it’s not necessarily representative of anyone elses. It was hard for me to write this narrative for the film because Kili is by far the most notable of all my ascents to date and it was a huge honor to be included in the expedition-however at the end of the day, I didn’t see fireworks or have that big culminating moment on the summit. It felt like a long walk up a steep hill, while sucking air through a straw. I struggled a lot feeling sick and my blood glucose was frequently uncooperative. I was out of my comfort zone and I didn’t feel like I was doing a great job of being a “good diabetic”.

I have talked at length of empowerment and “going beyond” diabetes, but when the rubber meets the road, it can really be a junk show-and the pretty timelapses and video clips cost a lot emotionally and physically to bring back. I keep coming back to the blue-collar ideals that I believe in regarding diabetes management-we have to learn how to accept the losses and dig deep enough to find a “win” buried in all the mess.

A dear friend once related to me a fable about three brothers who were each given a pile of horse dung. The first one was very offended and unhappy. The second was skeptical, but used the manure to plant and fertilize a rose garden. The third, rolled up his sleeves and got down to business digging frantically with his hands-and when questioned about this response he replied “I just KNOW there’s a horse in here somewhere!”

I think we all go through those phases and while I’d love to be transforming horse dung into beautiful roses, sometimes I’m having to settle for rolling up the sleeves and going for broke! It all comes down to how we choose to think and act on our circumstances. Please enjoy and feel free to share this short-it’s one more piece of the puzzle, one more vote for healthy empowered lives with diabetes.

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A first look at Kilimanjaro!

By Steve on September 26, 2013 in project kilimanjaro

Here is a promo video of the documentary made about the expedition to Kilimanjaro-this is not the full version, but it’s a great teaser! Our camera/production crew (Wes and Dan totally got after it and did amazing work!) Enjoy this, share it and get psyched-the full version will be awesome and I’ll be sharing my own story of the climb too in a separate video that I shot on my own!

If you can see this, your browser doesn’t understand IFRAME. However, we’ll still link you to the video.

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Arrival.

By Steve on August 28, 2013 in project kilimanjaro

This was the first time I have flown internationally, and as such I didn’t know what to expect. People always assume that because I enjoy climbing that I have no fear or that it doesn’t play a significant role in my life.

Being alone is scary but often times rewarding. Feeling alone is horrifying to me. I felt completely clueless flying out of JFK-I probably don’t need to reference the bedside manner of the TSA, but lets say they are not at the apex of quality customer service. They didn’t hassle me about my diabetes supplies though, so that was a plus.

My first flight was a 10 hour haul to Istanbul-which was literally the best flight I have ever been on. Turkish Airlines wait on you hand and foot, give you all sorts of free stuff, prepare great food (relative to the context!) and they have an outstanding movie selection!

To make things better I made friends with my neighbor, a fellow from Ankara, Turkey named Bugra (pronounced Boo-ra) who was a great traveling companion and hopefully we will stay in touch for when I bring the Project365 documentary to Turkey!

When I arrived in Istanbul however, things were much less inviting. No one spoke English, everyone wore too much cologne and was in a rush to go somewhere presumably important. My travel credit card didn’t work and to top it off, I started to feel ill. Here I am in the middle of the world without anyone to connect to, and no way to even connect my phone to the Internet (no free wifi in airports!).

“What if I get sick?” I thought. How will I go back or go forward? Neither seemed viable. So I just kept drinking water (bottled) and I tried to keep on the proper schedule with malaria pills…

After another long flight, I landed at Kilimanjaro airport near Arusha, Tanzania-at 3:45 AM. Upon getting out of the plane, I was greeted by a horde of mosquitoes, who must have instinctively know that I’ve been fretting about Malaria and Dengue fever.

I was able to screw up the visa application process by accidentally attempting to circumvent the final two stages of this three stage process…but throw in a couple hours of fitful sleep and several bumpy cab rides and I arrived in Arusha, my “pre-Kili” destination.

The drivers here take traffic laws and indeed safety itself as a suggestion, and no one seems to get too worked up much, despite frequent horn honking and furious driving on roads that are rutted or littered with potholes.

The people here seem genuinely happy. No one has a lot by our standards, materially, but seeing the kindness and humility these folks live by, it makes one wonder if maybe they have a lot more than we realize at first glance.

I made many new friends upon arriving at the lodge in Arusha, some of whom will be part of our team (which ill introduce more later) and others who had already summited and had great advice and stories to share. One new friend I met actually is from Park City UT! Small world we live in…

Finally…diabetes, my “other” climbing partner! Had some highs and lows. You know, normal diabetes stuff. None of those killed me, so I feel like I’m doing ok-I broke one of my cardinal rules and ate rice with dinner so I’m pretty high now and it’s not wanting to come down. Frankly, though I’m more concerned with getting a parasitic infection or “the scoots” from contaminated water or food.

We begin climbing on Friday so tomorrow will be devoted to prepping gear, charging my Goal Zero yeti 150 (which will power my ability to capture images) and sleeping in and hydrating! Stay tuned to our social media feeds because its a lot harder to keep things up to date via the blog than it is via shorter postings!

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