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Somehow, I Didn’t Fail

Kris Hampton
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Somehow, I didn’t fail. On the morning of my 50th birthday, I managed to scrape my way up my one-hundredth 5.13. And I mean “scrape” in the most literal sense of the word possible.

And then, as I tend to do, I threw myself entirely into another big project — writing a book about the lessons I’ve learned along the way, woven together with a narrative and timeline of important moments during the 100.

We’re trying to get this book out to the printers in the next two weeks so that we can get preorders going by Black Friday and hopefully have it in our hands ready to ship for Christmas. Which means I’m getting back to writing and illustrating right now.

I’ll shoot you all an email in the next few weeks when signed pre-order packages are available for early purchase.

Anyway, since I’m in the midst of furiously typing and editing, I figured I’d give you a taste of the penultimate chapter of the book – the send of number 100 on my 50th.

First, let me set the scene:

That morning, I’d already fallen several times off the final move of the crux. I was fading. It was hot and the route was in the sun. I had finished number 99 the night before, was three days on, and was quickly running out of skin and motivation. My friends John Wesely and Sean McNamara had graciously come out to photograph and belay the final route. When I fell off of the same move again, I was ready to call it quits.

Sean offered to forego his attempt so that I could rest a bit and give it one last try.

Ok, the following is an excerpt from the rough draft of the book:

I wasn’t exactly confident, and if I rested long enough to raise that confidence, the wall would heat up and cancel it out. But that doesn’t mean I thought I couldn’t do it. I knew I could. The chances were low, but there was still some possibility, and any possibility is enough for me to give it whatever I have left.

And that’s exactly what I gave.

I didn’t float the bottom, but I didn’t hesitate. I never even stopped to chalk up. I took every terrible hold as if I owned it. When I got to the cross move I’d fallen off of repeatedly, I didn’t second guess anything, and I didn’t fall off.

At the jug rest, I felt tired, but the confidence had grown. The next three bolts were considerably easier, and I had worked it out sufficiently. I could do it. Shortly after I left that jug, I knew I was in trouble.

Staring at the big refrigerator block I had to grapple with, I tried climbing quickly and confidently, though I knew I was fading. That got me through the first move – a huge span off of a slippery edge to a slopey sidepull with high, insecure feet. Standard granite sport climbing. However, the fact that I could barely hold the slopey jug afterward was massively amplifying my worry about the next tricky move.

My stance wasn’t at all restful, so I tried to keep moving. I didn’t complete a single move as I’d planned. At every new body position, I was in a frantic search for kneebars, heelhooks, and anything I could do to take some weight off of my hands. I’d reach around the corner to the small edge, begin to set up for the move, not find the correct position, feel my elbow rising skyward, and go into triage mode, wrapping my leg or my forearm around the corner in hopes of getting some sort of help from the friction. I’d find a brief respite and try again. Several times I moved into position only to clumsily retreat.

At this point the climbing is probably 11a. But the rock was too hot, I was too far gone, and 11a was too hard.

I was positive I was going to fall off, but there was still a tiny percent of a chance I could make it. I wasn’t going to fall off without exhausting every option to stay on.

It ain’t over ‘till it’s over.

I eventually found the right combination of position and desperation to commit to the move, and fought my way to the dual sloping rails at the top. All I had to do was get a foot up and mantle over. But when I leaned back to raise a foot, I was slipping off.

I had nothing left to hesitate with, so I continued leaning back and falling off, getting my foot up just before my hands left the rail. And then I was standing on top.

Number 100. At the wire. There couldn’t have been another attempt.

It threw it all at me. And it nearly knocked me off. I’ve never been closer to falling without actually falling. But I called on what I had learned from the ninety-nine 5.13’s before this one. I persisted. I adapted.

I sent.

Then, it was over.

CONNECTING THE DOTS

If you’re a Patron, you already know about this book, as I’ve been talking through some of the lessons on the We Scream Like Eagles podcast. So far I’ve discussed the importance of building a base and the idea that optimization is actually quite fragile. More of those freestyle thought episodes will be coming soon.

Shortly after the last issue of The Current, the great folks at Tension Climbing came to the Machine Shop to film an episode of their Spray Wall series.

Since I had only been sport climbing and hadn’t been in the gym at all, I didn’t have any expectations. However, I climbed well, sending most things first try. I credit that entirely to NOT trying to optimize, but to become more and more adaptable. It’s why I was able to finish number 100, or even get there in the first place. In fact, “Adapt” will be the title of the new book.

Nate and I showed them some classics, and to be honest, I was happy to see all of them struggle on Pinky and the Brain – a subtle, slopey V6ish thing that’s only been flashed twice. They all eventually sent – and crushed everything else, of course. That episode just came out last week.

It’s a lot of fun watching really good climbers put things together quickly. Even more fun to watch them get excited when something feels hard. I’ll be putting an episode together soon that goes through some of the things I observed in their performances. If you aren’t subscribed on our YouTube, do it now!

Over on the podcast we published two episodes this past month that I think really pack a punch. First was a BUILDER episode with Noah Steinberg and Lucia Li, a climber couple from Michigan who have been tearing up the Red after using one of our ebook training plans. It’s a deep dive into what’s possible if you can afford to be dedicated.

The next is an EXPERT episode with climber, mom, and coach, Joy Black. We wanted to create an informative training resource for pregnant women, so we went trimester by trimester and discussed training suggestions and concerns, logistics, how partners can be supportive, and more. It’s a great companion to Joy’s excellent courses, and I think will prove to be one of our most valuable episodes.

Assuming I can get this book done by the deadline, Written in Stone, my climbing history pod, will be coming back end of the month. If you haven’t checked out Season 1: The 1990’s, you’ve got time to get caught up!

Alright, be on the lookout for that preorder email in the next few weeks. I’m getting back to it!

Talk to you soon,
Kris

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