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Tuesday - March 19, 2024

Articles Written By AndrewLenec

 

To My Dearest Boulder

January 20th, 2022

I sat in traffic the other day on the way to work, a midmorning shift, and though it was already well past 10 a.m. the streets were as congested as I’ve ever seen them. As I sat at the same light for a third iteration without yet crossing the intersection, I felt the sun nearing its peak and watched the pavement breathe with heat. I was restless the way that only rush hour traffic during off-peak times can make you restless, the sensation of crawling single file towards something ominous and unknown. A truck with various endorsements for Donald Trump plastered across the back window sat through... Read More

Highway

March 20th, 2017

Last December, I arrived in Boulder on a wet and frosted night, the cold a stark contrast to the sedate warmth of Hawaiian winters that I was leaving. My arrival was a sigh, the slow release of pressure built up over several years of constant wandering, and the beginning of a spiritual and emotional convalescence that was a lifetime in the making. In fifteen months, the farthest I have been from this city is only a handful of hours by highway, a true reversal of my constant motion. I have been moored on dry ground, this landlocked state a haven from life’s fervently rocking seas. Boulder and... Read More

Horizon

March 13th, 2017

I can feel my bones hardening, a stolid ache of the marrow like monoliths being built under the skin. I have spilled more blood in the last five months than life ever taught me was even mine to spill. The flesh of my lip split into ribbons is the prettiest pink, I see, soft and newborn and a flower springing out amidst decay, as I stand in the mirror in true form, a landscape of gashes like canyon walls viewed by vultures. If the sun is not out to pull me from roots, then into the soil I sink. And my yawns are continents shifting, the groans of plates brushing shoulders and oiled by dust. There... Read More

Sprung

March 7th, 2017

Part of what first drew me to climbing was the opportunity for meditation, the necessity to focus on my movements and to remain absolutely present within myself, denying my mind its usual, incessant chatter. This has been key for me, and is probably my main motivation for going back to the rope again and again – yes, I love being in nature, and pushing the bounds of my own physicality, and even the rushes of adrenaline have grown on me. But when I really think about it, my greatest gratitude on the wall is everything that is not there with me. So alluring is this release that it is becoming difficult... Read More

Walk

February 28th, 2017

Though the sun shines unseasonably strong and its rays heat the air in days that are unrecognizable as November, nothing stands motionless as it would in the lethargy of summer, and a near-constant wind sweeps the city and kicks up dirt and is not powerful enough to really affect that which it touches, but instead scratches at every door, whimpers, as though nature itself were restless for change. For days I have been losing water, like a ship sinking in reverse; I float above the wonders concealed in blue, and amidst the rocking of life’s waves I tear at the planks beneath my feet, hoping to... Read More

March

February 21st, 2017

I can feel my bones hardening, a stolid ache of the marrow like monoliths being built under the skin. I have spilled more blood in the last five months than life ever taught me was even mine to spill. The flesh of my lip split into ribbons is the prettiest pink, I see, soft and newborn and a flower springing out amidst decay, as I stand in the mirror in true form, a landscape of gashes like canyon walls viewed by vultures. If the sun is not out to pull me from roots, then into the soil I sink. And my yawns are continents shifting, the groans of plates brushing shoulders and oiled by dust. There... Read More

Blear

February 13th, 2017

A somewhat serious back injury, then inflamed shoulders, aching joints, and now a weak wrist. In four weeks I have climbed as many times, and I am finding myself searching for excuses to not go back. It is easier at times to not climb, to keep in mind but the ghost of a passion, something unsullied and as near to perfect as it could be. Before getting hurt, movement was a love that held me dear as I held it, and I fear marring it with now-shaking hands. I dream as sweetly as any man could, and I know intimately the rousing touch of morning, a threshold concrete like that of sleep’s gentle thaw.  Read More

Weighted

February 6th, 2017

Ten feet above my last bolt, I look down and start trying to do calculations. Math that I, admittedly, am not great with, considering the fact that I have never really been able to visually judge distance very accurately. With that in mind, ten feet was probably far less than that. The theoretical and actual fall factors are differentiated by the amount of available rope in the system, and with stretch I’ll fall… how far? Twice the distance between my harness and the previous clip, plus…. The answer didn’t matter. The biggest issue was my apprehension, the fact that I could not find it... Read More

Slow

January 30th, 2017

Today marks one week that I have been laid up with injury. The days have crept by slowly, and the nights have felt interminable, hours seeping through the air like the languid flow of blood beneath my wounds. At its worst, my own pulse was a scream in the quiet dark. This fragility of body is something that I have not felt in quite some time – the last eighteen months have seen me at my peak. Having never been athletic before, at least not passionately so, since beginning to climb I have seen positive transformations in myself that I never thought I would witness. I have never felt so strong,... Read More

Fire

January 23rd, 2017

Part of what first drew me to climbing was the opportunity for meditation, the necessity to focus on my movements and to remain absolutely present within myself, denying my mind its usual, incessant chatter. This has been key for me, and is probably my main motivation for going back to the rope again and again – yes, I love being in nature, and pushing the bounds of my own physicality, and even the rushes of adrenaline have grown on me. But when I really think about it, my greatest gratitude on the wall is everything that is not there with me. So alluring is this release that it is becoming difficult... Read More