me. Running like a madwoman down Aspen Street. The bus doors spring open in the distance as I barrel forward to make it in time—climbing bag flailing, chalk powder spewing everywhere like pixie dust. I reach the bus panting, and the driver stares at me like I’m insane.
A crazy, chalky Tinker Bell.
Hair spills from my ponytail as I gulp for air. “Greetings.” With a rapid swipe of my pass through the machine, I sink into the nearest seat.
I probably should have driven my Jeep once it dawned that four o’clock would be a close call today. But since it’s Monday, Sammy and I had so much fun walking to her mom’s diner that the time flew by. We were so focused on finding the first hint of fall that it took us twenty minutes to spot two yellow leaves on the sidewalk. Our celebration dance took another five.
As for the bus ride, I really do need to save every penny and am already making progress. Plus, I brought some work to finish up on the ride. Except now I have a side ache and nearly sprained my ankle leaping over a bush near the neighbor’s driveway. Thank God I opted for Converse today.
Once I’ve inhaled enough diesel-scented oxygen to feel normal again, I unzip my backpack and pull out the chapter I brought along to edit. I’m two-thirds of the way through the sweet western, so the pace is clipping along quickly. Once this project is finished, I already have another one lined up, which is one of several projects to help me keep ahead of the financial curve. My reflection in the window catches the late afternoon sun as I click open my slightly chalky laptop.
This week I’ve submitted one of the articles my old editor denied to several magazines. It will take about six weeks to hear any replies on it. Even if the piece gets rejected, it feels good to have tried. And who knows? There’s also the book idea still. I was supposed to give the sample chapters to Britt for feedback, but we got so distracted on the hike the other day, it vanished from thought.
It was worth it, though, since it turned out to be a super fun day, especially for her. I’ll still shoot her some chapters soon. I’ll send some to my mom as well. I’m eager to catch up with her more and even get her advice.
But right now . . . it’s time to dive back into the wild west. The bus eases away from another stop as I tap open the latest chapter and get to work on edits. Shifting light streams through the nearest window and it’s a familiar, rhythmic process of helping the author tighten her prose, while asking clarifying questions that arise. Little by little, I fill the digital margin with comments. Here and there, I’ve penciled ideas into the text itself, all highlighted red for her to see.
If only I could get commentary and edits on my life choices so easily. If only God had a bright red pen that would indicate go this way! But I guess that takes a little longer than this four-week process. Instead, it takes a lifetime of study, trust, prayer, and community. With thoughts of Seth still niggling at me, I try and keep them at bay, remembering instead the commitment I’m making to myself to keep a high and healthy standard with men. A commitment that brings me joy instead of distress and one that I truly believe God is leading me on. Today, I want to hold these goals and promises close. I may not be able to reconstruct the order of my life—and frankly, don’t really want to—but I can make each day count and I’m determined to seek the good. The wholeness. And that starts with things that build me up, heart and soul, instead of tearing me down.
Soon, the gym comes into view and all my writing gear goes back inside the bag. It’s only 4:30 now so I have over three hours until closing. Each day spent at the gym is an adventure, making it hard to know exactly what to expect, which is half the fun. Today is no different. Inside the entrance, Cassidy swipes a packet of papers off the check-in desk.
“Perfect timing, Sadie. I just finished printing these off for the competition.” She slides them my way. “First is a form we need you to fill out, which we’ll use for making announcements and verifying that everyone is in the correct category.” She turns to the next page. “These last two pages are the rules and order of events. You can read over them in your free time. It basically explains how the competition will go.”
“Okay, great.”
“And this last form we just need you to sign. It’s the same kind of waiver you signed for the membership, but we always require a competition version.”
“No problem.” I skim the contents that are just like the other form I signed, then jot my name and the date.
She files it away. “Have fun today. You’ve been doing great, by the way.”
“Oh. Thank you. I’m having a really good time.”
“That’s what we like to hear. Eleven days to go!”
Seriously?! “Wow, that is soon.” Good thing I came in today. I’ll definitely need to squeeze in a few more visits before next Saturday rolls around.
“Oh, and you’ll see that they’ve cleared the whole far side of the gym in preparation for the competition. The route setters will be spending the next week getting it set up with all the comp boulders.”
Competition boulders. This is getting so real. I thank her and head off for the usual stashing-of-the-gear and warm-up routine. Tugging on my rubber-soled shoes, I watch the other climbers. Which ones will also be in the competition? I scan from one end of the bustling gym to the other. Some of the men and women who are scaling boulder problems of every shape and size are going to be competing for some of the top spots. All in front of a huge crowd.
And you’re actually going to climb in front of them?
When my nerves rattle, I try and shush them. I’ve been trying not to think about how many of these people, especially the ones who have been climbing for years, will be in the crowd, watching a bunch of talented, outgoing souls. Including me, Sadie McGillis, who will be attempting to conquer the same boulders they could scale in their sleep. To think of falling—of failing—makes the knot in my stomach tighten. Confidence waffling, I take a few minutes to look over the rules in the packet.
Each climber will compete on three boulders and have exactly five minutes to top each one. There will be something called “zones.” This is the halfway point. If I reach the zone, I get half points. But at the top, the judges award full points. That makes sense. It’s comforting to know there’s a chance to get on the scoreboard even if I don’t reach the top.
Nearby, fans whoosh, stirring air on what has to be one of the hottest days of the summer. Two technicians in blue jumpsuits kneel on scaffolding in the corner, looking perplexed by the air-conditioning issue and as hot as everything else. My bangs are wilted to my forehead, so I shove them back.
A quick survey of the nearby wall helps me gauge which climbs are in my grade level today. Five minutes, huh? What if I time myself today? Just as a way to see what it will be like to compete. I can leave my phone on the mats below, and when the timer dings, I’ll know what my points would be. After a detailed warm-up, which includes some yoga stretches, a few planks, and a several hand exercises, I claim the first boulder problem. Standing just below, I tap start on the timer, chalk up, and trudge across the thick mats toward the first route. No time to waste. I jump right on, and in my haste, slip after only a few moves. Thump. I’m down.
Okay. I brush myself off. Time to approach this with more strategy. More focus. The timer says that there’s still four minutes and thirteen seconds. Back on my feet, I do a careful re-chalk. This time I study the holds and the way they curve to the right, angling up a slight overhang. I count each one to make sure none of the little footholds are missed. Those are crucial, and it would be detrimental to stumble off balance, only to later realize I didn’t notice a useful foothold. That’s part of the reason why I fell. Lack of preparation.
This time, I think through the sequence first. With the timer ticking down, there’s probably only a few minutes to get to the top. I begin, moving as swiftly but gracefully as possible. This one’s quite the struggle. I’m slow at the start, and nearly slip again in the middle. I’m nearly to the top when the timer dings. Even though I didn’t make it, it feels like a victory. Had I planned better the first time, I probably would have scored better.
This is all good to learn.
Back on the ground. I add a quick note in my phone that says I only got the zone on boulder #1. Half of the possible points. It’s better than nothing, but I need to do better on the next section. On a whim, I decide to go in order, walking the length of the gym and stopping at the first route I find that’s either V1 or V2. I find a V1 that, while not as steep, has smaller holds. That’s what will make it tricky.
Okay, Sadie. Let’s do this.
Timer. Chalk. Focus.
I count the holds, making sure I’m not missing any, then take a deep breath and begin. My body is already feeling the strain of the exertion but I try and block it out, stepping and pulling higher on the gray slab wall. Before I know it, I’m at the very top, matching the final hold with both hands. I glance down to the timer but it’s too far to see, so I quickly downclimb. I did it in under two minutes. Nice! That would give me room for error in case I made a mistake. After marking the score—my first “competition” top!—I allow a five-minute rest and then hunt down the next climb. A chunky-looking V2. Tough. As I throw all of my strength and ability at the route, Eleni comes to mind. What will it be like to actually compete against her? To know she’s here as well, wondering if I will top. She’ll be resting for her five minutes, while I strategize against the wall with all the energy I can muster.
Not that we’ll be directly competing against one another. Instead, we’re individuals competing against the boulders themselves. That’s one of the reasons they’ll be a complete mystery until go-time. The person who tops the podium will have climbed with greater efficiency and sharper skill. I don’t care about winning, only conquering the fears that are trying to hold me back. I’d be thrilled if Eleni won, but still . . . it will be kind of strange since we’ve been able to support one another thus far. Could anything change that? I haven’t even seen or met the third competitor in the women’s beginner group. What if she—
The string of worries tie to my left foot like an anchor and I slip, crashing to the mat.
That did not go as planned. Rubbing at my face, I wipe away sweat and chalk, then struggle to sit up. Two climbers in harnesses walk past, aiming for one of the higher sections where ropes dangle in place. I shift out of their way, opting for a stretch and some cool water. The timer dings, reminding me that my five minutes just crashed and burned on this one. My focus is not rock solid here.
That’s all right. That’s what practice is for. No zone on that one, but I’m learning what my weaknesses are, which still makes today a success. A better use of my time than worrying over things I can’t control—especially while a dozen feet up in the air. As for the competition? It’s going to be crucial to cast all other worries to the side, focus only on the moment at hand, and trust that just the right outcome will follow.