![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rydra_wong posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
disobey_gravityAs promised, the write-up.
Okay, context. Two things you should know:
*The Arch is a small bouldering wall, which is noted for creative route-setting and a chilled-out and friendly atmosphere.
*I hate sporting events and competitions. I have never taken part in one except under duress, by which I mean school.
And I didn't plan on doing this one -- I don't like pressure, and I like being able to spend ages working quietly on a bouldering problem. And given my Asperger's and sensory issues, crowds and noise are not my friends.
But I was talked into it at the last minute by one of the Arch staff, who knows my issues and nevertheless thought it'd be manageable and I might enjoy it. He promised me that there'd be lots of easy problems, and that I didn't even have to turn in my scoresheet if I didn't want to.
I decided that I'd count it as an achievement if I participated at all, and that if I joined in, did one problem, and didn't run out of the door screaming, I'd declare a victory.
By the time the competition got going, there were about 50-60 people there, at a rough guess -- so it was busy, but not too crowded (I heard that some of the bigger comps can end up very cramped). Nonetheless, queues still formed in front of some of the easiest problems.
I don't know if this is how comps are normally organized, but the first, open round went like this: there were 20 problems, and we got two hours to do as many as we could.
We all got scoresheets and biros to record what we did (and how many tries it took); I think the basic assumption was that it'd be easy to spot anyone lying too outrageously.
It was very low-pressure; there were actually a few people who hadn't heard about the comp, turned up planning on their normal Saturday climb, and got talked into competing instead.
There was a nice range of problems, from easy V0 through to V-scary, so there was something for everyone. And the problems were fantastic, inventive and mentally challenging at all levels of difficulty; after the comp, I went and thanked the two route-setters because the problems had been so delightful.
The two hours meant it didn't feel rushed. You could take a break, go to the loo, drink some coffee, grab a snack or rest for a bit, then climb some more.
There were some problems that I think I could have got with a few more sessions spent working on them (apparently most of them will be staying up for a while, so I should get the chance to test this theory), but none where I felt I'd have nailed them if I'd only had five more minutes.
People were generally pretty laidback in their attitude; I saw various people taking time out to play on the non-competition problems, just for fun. The smoke wafting in from the barbecue (wedged into a corner by the bikesheds) didn't hurt, though at one point the front area started to look a little ... misty.
(I am not entirely sure that climbers should be allowed to play with fire.)
It was a very non-competitive competition, with everyone cheering each other on, commiserating, and trading information ("The route-setter says you can use the top of the ledge!").
When I described this torobynbender, she replied (with great accuracy) that it sounded less like a competition, more like a "climbing play date with barbecue."
Nonetheless, there was a definite adrenaline kick; I found myself pushing much harder than usual, struggling and hanging on and going for moves when I'd normally have given up and jumped. It was interesting to realize how much I apparently back off the rest of the time.
(I may also have possibly drunk too much espresso.)
I got way more done than I'd expect to do in a regular two-hour climbing session, including a few problems I was really proud of nailing (ah, number 18, my nemesis; I got you in the end). There was one problem which I sent on the first try which I'm guessing was about a V3; if so, that'd be a first for me.
By the time the round ended, I'd got 7 out of the 20 problems, which (just on the basis of informal chat with other people about how we were doing) meant I wasn't the worst person competing, not by a long way.
Something that did surprise me was how few women competing there were -- maybe only seven or eight of us -- even though the gender balance at the Arch is usually very even. Which I'm guessing says something about how women are socialized to think about competition, and/or how we evaluate our own abilities.
It's also possible that other comps have a more "macho" attitude and route-setting, though in this case the bias (if anything) was towards technique-y problems dependent on flexibility and balance, rather than pure power.
I'd love to see more women trying comps, if only because I had such an excellent time.
(And because the female finalists rocked so hard.)
After the first round ended, we all took an hour for lunch and ate burgers and sausages (or vegetarian alternatives) from the barbecue, while the master of ceremonies stared furiously at his spreadsheets and made complex and arcane calculations.
Then in the afternoon there were the finals, featuring the five top-scoring men and the five top women.
The finals did feel pressured: the finalists had to climb in front of an audience, with only four minutes to complete a problem (or not), they weren't allowed to watch each other climb, and the finals problems were viciously hard.
I didn't need to chalk up at all while I was climbing, but my palms literally started sweating while I was watching the finalists on the slab problem.
The finalists were also hardcore; some of them were national level competitive climbers. The men's finalists included Gaz Parry, who waltzed through all the problems, including the last men's one which required hanging upside down with his feet wedged in a crack to get both hands on the finishing hold (and then opted out of taking first place, I suspect because he's a pro climber).
Even if I stood a chance of becoming that good a climber, I don't think I'd ever want to make it into the finals of a comp. That kind of pressure hurts my brain to think about. But my god, it was amazing to watch.
And despite the pressure, it stayed non-competitive in many ways: as pellucid reported about the comp she watched, everyone cheered fervently for everyone else. We all clapped and whooped and shouted "Come on!" and "Allez, allez!" and assorted other exclamations, and groaned in sympathy when someone fell. Even when they were in "isolation" (so they couldn't actually see the person climbing), the finalists cheered for each other.
And the wildest cheering from the crowd came when somebody was struggling and then pulled it out of the bag.
I stayed for over seven hours (arriving at 10 am, when registration started, and leaving around 5.30pm), and went home very very happy. Throughout the whole thing, I felt comfortable and safe and supported, and the whole thing was a huge boost to my confidence.
They're already planning another comp for the winter, and there's not even a sliver of doubt in my mind about whether I'll be doing it.
Okay, context. Two things you should know:
*The Arch is a small bouldering wall, which is noted for creative route-setting and a chilled-out and friendly atmosphere.
*I hate sporting events and competitions. I have never taken part in one except under duress, by which I mean school.
And I didn't plan on doing this one -- I don't like pressure, and I like being able to spend ages working quietly on a bouldering problem. And given my Asperger's and sensory issues, crowds and noise are not my friends.
But I was talked into it at the last minute by one of the Arch staff, who knows my issues and nevertheless thought it'd be manageable and I might enjoy it. He promised me that there'd be lots of easy problems, and that I didn't even have to turn in my scoresheet if I didn't want to.
I decided that I'd count it as an achievement if I participated at all, and that if I joined in, did one problem, and didn't run out of the door screaming, I'd declare a victory.
By the time the competition got going, there were about 50-60 people there, at a rough guess -- so it was busy, but not too crowded (I heard that some of the bigger comps can end up very cramped). Nonetheless, queues still formed in front of some of the easiest problems.
I don't know if this is how comps are normally organized, but the first, open round went like this: there were 20 problems, and we got two hours to do as many as we could.
We all got scoresheets and biros to record what we did (and how many tries it took); I think the basic assumption was that it'd be easy to spot anyone lying too outrageously.
It was very low-pressure; there were actually a few people who hadn't heard about the comp, turned up planning on their normal Saturday climb, and got talked into competing instead.
There was a nice range of problems, from easy V0 through to V-scary, so there was something for everyone. And the problems were fantastic, inventive and mentally challenging at all levels of difficulty; after the comp, I went and thanked the two route-setters because the problems had been so delightful.
The two hours meant it didn't feel rushed. You could take a break, go to the loo, drink some coffee, grab a snack or rest for a bit, then climb some more.
There were some problems that I think I could have got with a few more sessions spent working on them (apparently most of them will be staying up for a while, so I should get the chance to test this theory), but none where I felt I'd have nailed them if I'd only had five more minutes.
People were generally pretty laidback in their attitude; I saw various people taking time out to play on the non-competition problems, just for fun. The smoke wafting in from the barbecue (wedged into a corner by the bikesheds) didn't hurt, though at one point the front area started to look a little ... misty.
(I am not entirely sure that climbers should be allowed to play with fire.)
It was a very non-competitive competition, with everyone cheering each other on, commiserating, and trading information ("The route-setter says you can use the top of the ledge!").
When I described this to
robynbender, she replied (with great accuracy) that it sounded less like a competition, more like a "climbing play date with barbecue."Nonetheless, there was a definite adrenaline kick; I found myself pushing much harder than usual, struggling and hanging on and going for moves when I'd normally have given up and jumped. It was interesting to realize how much I apparently back off the rest of the time.
(I may also have possibly drunk too much espresso.)
I got way more done than I'd expect to do in a regular two-hour climbing session, including a few problems I was really proud of nailing (ah, number 18, my nemesis; I got you in the end). There was one problem which I sent on the first try which I'm guessing was about a V3; if so, that'd be a first for me.
By the time the round ended, I'd got 7 out of the 20 problems, which (just on the basis of informal chat with other people about how we were doing) meant I wasn't the worst person competing, not by a long way.
Something that did surprise me was how few women competing there were -- maybe only seven or eight of us -- even though the gender balance at the Arch is usually very even. Which I'm guessing says something about how women are socialized to think about competition, and/or how we evaluate our own abilities.
It's also possible that other comps have a more "macho" attitude and route-setting, though in this case the bias (if anything) was towards technique-y problems dependent on flexibility and balance, rather than pure power.
I'd love to see more women trying comps, if only because I had such an excellent time.
(And because the female finalists rocked so hard.)
After the first round ended, we all took an hour for lunch and ate burgers and sausages (or vegetarian alternatives) from the barbecue, while the master of ceremonies stared furiously at his spreadsheets and made complex and arcane calculations.
Then in the afternoon there were the finals, featuring the five top-scoring men and the five top women.
The finals did feel pressured: the finalists had to climb in front of an audience, with only four minutes to complete a problem (or not), they weren't allowed to watch each other climb, and the finals problems were viciously hard.
I didn't need to chalk up at all while I was climbing, but my palms literally started sweating while I was watching the finalists on the slab problem.
The finalists were also hardcore; some of them were national level competitive climbers. The men's finalists included Gaz Parry, who waltzed through all the problems, including the last men's one which required hanging upside down with his feet wedged in a crack to get both hands on the finishing hold (and then opted out of taking first place, I suspect because he's a pro climber).
Even if I stood a chance of becoming that good a climber, I don't think I'd ever want to make it into the finals of a comp. That kind of pressure hurts my brain to think about. But my god, it was amazing to watch.
And despite the pressure, it stayed non-competitive in many ways: as pellucid reported about the comp she watched, everyone cheered fervently for everyone else. We all clapped and whooped and shouted "Come on!" and "Allez, allez!" and assorted other exclamations, and groaned in sympathy when someone fell. Even when they were in "isolation" (so they couldn't actually see the person climbing), the finalists cheered for each other.
And the wildest cheering from the crowd came when somebody was struggling and then pulled it out of the bag.
I stayed for over seven hours (arriving at 10 am, when registration started, and leaving around 5.30pm), and went home very very happy. Throughout the whole thing, I felt comfortable and safe and supported, and the whole thing was a huge boost to my confidence.
They're already planning another comp for the winter, and there's not even a sliver of doubt in my mind about whether I'll be doing it.
