[comPiler]

MORE DAYS
9 June 2015, 11:59 am

I had thought that my moment of top form was going to vanish, and I had thought that I was going to run out of projects. I was wrong on both. The two days of the last post became more days, in which I found myself miraculously glued to ze rock, sticking move after move. I found myself stronger, also, adding kilos to all my previous personal bests and that's the only thing that counts, to be honest. I ask myself why now and not before. The answer is that it's happening now because now I am an overally better person than before. And I am a better person because I am a more complete person: my mind is as fast as a speeding bullet and as sharp as a laser beam. It's not hazy and lazy, incapable of thinking to anything that's not grades and moves. OK, it's never really been that lazy, but you get what I mean. Better mind, better body. I'm free. Free from others, but mostly free from myself and from my demons and ego. I know what I am and I know what I can do. The thing that strikes me most, to be honest, is that I became less shit at flashing problems. It all started in December 2014, and I suspended my judgement waiting for some more info. Then it happened again, but on first ascents, so again I suspended my judgement. But it happened again and again. So, finally, I must think that somehow I became better at flashing problems. I spent this last weekend in one of the places that I love the most, and in which I feel more at home: the Dolomites. Steep boulders on pockets and edges made for testosterone bouldering with bulging muscles and veins, fuelled by all sorts of natural and artificial food, from buckets of hyperproteic yogurt with honey and hazelnuts, to protein shakes, to honey and peanut butter sandwiches, to hamburgers and pasta. I flashed basically everything, including two 7c's (one was a retroflash of a problem I climbed ages ago). I was also very close to doing an 8a that I smartly tried at the end of the second day. Punter. OK, OK, I know what you purists are going to say about bouldering on dolomia: it's choss, they're eliminates, it's nasty, etc. I could finely discuss our diverging opinions about this subject, using my rhetoric to convince you about the quality of the bouldering there, but I won't do it. If you don't like it, you don't deserve it. Which is better for me also, because I like my boulders quite and private.

Unfortunately, this moment of splendid form coincided with a certain Chzech climber flashing 8b and 8b+ and climbing 8c in a day, so I am not surprised that neither LaSportiva nor Black Diamond called me to ask me if I'd like to be paid by them to just keep climbing and being so awesome.  

Source: TOTOLORE

[Luke Owens]

Are you becoming a ROCK climber Nibs?? Great effort on the flashes, sounds like some good strong days out on the rock!

[Nibile]

Sounds incredible, innit?
Something has changed suddenly and basically without me noticing, but it's been a good surprise. I want to keep enjoying this moment, therefore I'll go back to the Dolomites in ten days!
 

[Luke Owens]

Sounds incredible, innit?
Something has changed suddenly and basically without me noticing, but it's been a good surprise. I want to keep enjoying this moment, therefore I'll go back to the Dolomites in ten days!
 

  Good psyche! Enjoy buddy!!

[Nibile]

Cheers! Hopefully the weather will play ball!

[comPiler]

EVEN MORE DAYS?
24 June 2015, 10:53 am



                                                   Photo courtesy of Pietro Mittica

To say I'm pleasantly perplexed is an understatement. And this blog entry could stop here. But it would be very unfair. After my brilliant weekend bouldering in the Dolomites, glowing in the golden light of my successes, I took the courage to do a few things that I hadn't done in a while. The first one, that took a lot of courage, was taking a week off. I mean, really off. Like, no board climbing, no fingerboarding, no sprints, no weights, no nothing. Not really, but I managed to do only one session, a weights and bodyweight excercises complex that left me in agony for a good couple of days. Hitting the same muscle groups with two bodyweight routines, namely front levers and paused reps ab rolls, isn't exactly a smart idea, but it was worth the risk. I felt like a Hulk. Anyway, this week off also coincided with ten days in which I never had dinner at home, resulting in lots of tasty food and wine gulped down... So, when finally Monday came, it was with terror that I slipped what I thought was my overweight frame into my training pants and top. I was training with my good friend Pietro, and fuelled by the usual dose of caffeine and protein shakes, it turned out that I wasn't exactly out of shape, at least in climbing terms. I obviously climbed a project that I'd been trying for a while, linking single moves and short bits but never coming close to success. Lesson to be learnt: train like a headless chicken for a good twenty years, then take a week off to eat and drink, then climb your latest board project.  Given that I wanted to go back to the Dolomites that coming weekend, I made a good plan to be sure that I was going to get there properly overtrained and undercompensated.



This time I was going to be going with my girlfriend, so the weather was going to play a big role in making everything perfect: sunny days and glowing sunsets in the mountains are a good thing for a couple. Saturday morning dawned a bit cloudy, but it was promising. It was promising rain. It turned out that the promise was wrong: it was going to be snow. 3 degrees, sleet and snow, what more could you ask for? But I'm not the one who's easily deceived, and I knew that in a couple of hours it was going to stop. After a good dose of kaiserschmarren and coffee, it was time to get our feet soaked to get some bouldering. There is this roof up there, that keeps attracting me and keeps giving problems (you see what I did there?). I had little info, in German, and I only knew that there was a big cross through move. Everything was wet, but with the precious experience gained during my visits at Parisella's Cave, I started to dry out bits here and there, fill the seams that were pouring, and assuring some chance for success. Then I started to figure out the moves, and everything started to crumble. The starting holds seemed to open up only to mysterious levitations to far away holds, and nothing seemed possible. The sequence that I was sure was going to earn me my first 8a flash proved to be 8c and I didn't flash it. Then the miracle. I kept my cool, stayed there, dried more footholds, kept trying and refining, and after a while, make it two hours - make it three - I had a sequence. I also had a soaking, trembling girlfriend. Being the old romantic that I am, I knew that it was time to leave, but I didn't leave. Instead, I took off my fleece, my t-shirt and my thermal and proceeded to reward my girlfriend with my bulging muscles beating down the problem into submission. I am the greatest. No, really. You can't imagine it. Half an hour later we were drinking spritz and eating mortadella and cheese in Campitello as if there were no tomorrow. While I was walking in Canazei, that was full of people fully clad in Montura, Mammut, The North Face apparel, I thought about Jerry, and started moaning to myself: "Wherever I watch, there's noone stronger than me. I am the strongest one." After this glorious day, I decided to take my girlfriend to get some more cold at Falzarego, where the meadow was lashed by a freezing wind that made everything a bit tricky and made me search for shelted in a nearby shithole that hosts two 8a's and an 8b+ in three meters of stone. Unfortunately being less than 45° overhanging, I didn't even manage to pull on. More spritz and mortadella. I had taken Monday off, so I was ready for the final sunny day. That never came. Clouds and wind, but a generous temp of 7°. Happiness all around. My girlfriend climbed a bit and got her battle scars, and I tried another problem in the same roof, getting as close as possible to doing it without actually doing it. A gigantic portion of potatoes, eggs and speck marked the end of the climbing trip and left room only for a brief stop at LaSportiva factory. I bought a pair of undersized Cobra for 59 Euros and everything was over. But I am still the greatest. I am still the strongest, and you all know it.  



Source: TOTOLORE

[a dense loner]

And cobras are the best training shoes don't forget!

[Nibile]

In this case it's a shame that I don't train anymore: I only climb on rock, and only for the lines, never for the grade.

[Fiend]

Twat!!

[comPiler]

NO MORE DAYS...
16 September 2015, 3:20 pm

After a Spring made of good climbing on rock (yes, rock, that thing that you find outside instead of plastic and wooden holds), with Summer closing in and temps in the high 30's for weeks on end, my dreams of glory were truly shattered.

I didn't admit defeat, though, before being seriously and utterly defeated.

I went to the Dolomites again with a bunch of friends for a stag do, and once the effects of the first night on the cocktails were over, I managed to touch some rock.

I had my sight aimed at a longstanding project whose line I had finally discovered. I thought I'd done it years ago, but it turned out that the true line was a few meters on the left, completely independent from what I'd done and completely unknown to me.

To cut a long story short, it's hard and I didn't do it. In my opinion it could be around 8a+ or 8b. It's a traverse on the lip of a roof, whose first half is all the hard climbing of the 8a I did in June, and whose second half is probably from 7c up. Brilliant, totally brilliant climbing with edges, slopers and a sequence on right hand underclings that left me completely destroyed. With 25 degrees at the boulders, I couldn't do the middle moves of the 8a anymore, involving a slopey dish, so after refining my sequence I started trying the project from a few moves in. Blimey, despite bone dry holds and good form, I couldn't do it!!! It's hard!

I left emptyhanded, apart from finally repeating a 7a+ that I never found dry in 15 years of bouldering in the Dolomites!

I didn't really leave emptyhanded, because I gained a nice shoulder strain from spending a day on a hard gaston move and behind the head underclings. Obviously, I immediately tried to iron the injury out. Bad choice. On my first set of behind the neck press the sound of a packet of crackers cracking woke me up from my dreams of glory and my right shoulder was useless. Theraband weeks followed. Theraband and weights. Theraband and sprints. Theraband and everything. I managed to train around my injury, tweaked some excercises like the ab wheel and the barbell carry walk. I'd like to share what I found out, training wise, during these weeks of training and healing my shoulder, but I'm a selfish bastard and I won't. You aren't going to try them anyway, so why spend time and types? Fast forward a few more weeks, in which I found out I had progressed on every aspect of my training, from crimp strength, to openhanding strength, to body tension and pulling power, I finally made it back to the Dollys. Three days of climbing, a long weekend to tick my project and finally leave rock for the Winter. No way. Weeks and weeks of rain had done the damage. First day, the roof was dripping. I tried to repeat the 8a and obviously couldn't despite being now able to repeat the part that I couldn'd do in the hot in July. I tried a one move 8a and couldn't do it because of the wet holds. Pads soaked and muddy, clothes soaked and muddy. I ate a lot. Second day, we played around for a while, I napped in the sun, then didn't resist the urge to repeat a problem that I'd done many many years ago. A roofy 7b meant a sure retroflash while waving at the crowd of hikers. No. Four fucking goes were fucking needed. I waved at the hikers though. I wanted to climb a bit more in a nice, sunny, dry spot but I was sure the roof was in good nick, so I resisted. We got to the roof. It wasn't dripping anymore, it was soaked by streaks of water running down and condensation. Got the pad again, walked to the car then I remembered of the sunny spot and headed there (another 15 minutes walking with two pads among the boulders. In flip flops.). Got there. The sunny, dry boulder was sunny and dry at two p.m., now at six it was gloomy, humid and useless as everything else. But I was there. I tried the project. Didn't even find the line or the holds. So I tried to repeat a 7c that I'd flashed in June, and of which I thought I had surely used banned holds or an easy sequence because I really pissed it (pulling very hard). Could barely do the moves in isolation. Oh well at least I cancelled my doubts about my flash. Finally did a nasty 7a+ that I'd equally done in June, only, this time I didn't bother neither matching any of the holds nor putting any weight on my feet.     Third day dawned cloudy and rainy. Drove home stopping by at King Rock for a bouldering session. Tired, bad skin, torrid temps inside. Brilliant. Climbed until nauseated. Lesson to be learnt: bad bad planning for this last trip. Got there still tired from the week's training, I wouldn't have climbed the project anyway, probably, even if dry. Now I only have to train, stay in shape for some nine months, and then it will be mine. Do not expect, dear reader, to find much rock climbing on Totolore for the months to come: it's time. The time is almost here to dedicate all my efforts to the only thing that matters: my board. Home of the hardest things I've ever tried, this Winter will be the Winter of Glory. The Winter of the Beast. The Winter that will shatter the climbing world forever.

Source: TOTOLORE

[comPiler]

THE REAL THING
30 October 2015, 4:35 pm

For a long time I've been thinking that I had become just a "trainer", not being a "climber" anymore. Given that I've ever been such. The compulsive and obsessed search for physical prowess had finally become a goal in its own, completely independent from climbing performances and from climbing itself. Being able to do multiple standing ab-wheel rolls, or one armers, or pulling mono one armers, and climbing 6b on rock showed no contradiction to me. And it still does. Then I fell to the syrens' chant, that kept me awake at night singing "The Force has multiple facets, Lore. Pursue them all in the name of our magic formula: STRENGTH X SPEED = POWER." Once I finally understood the Truth, I could finally sleep again at night. But during the days, I had to snatch, clean, power clean, power press, jump, sprint, hip-hinge, do finishers, barbell complexes, dumbbell complexes, static complexes, speed complexes, contrast training, and something else. When I added FOAs (Frontal One Armers) to the menu, my life was finally complete. Was I still nothing but a trainer? Luckily yes, but a stronger trainer. In any case, I couldn't concentrate on nothing else but watching my body change and my traps grow. With veins on them. Drop 1 kg of fat, put on 1 kg of muscle, the scale shows no progress, but the mirror (and the calipers) never lies. Then one day, while I was on the way to Damascus (in Damascus there is a gym where I was going to have my body fat percentage and cellular density checked), I saw a burning bush. I stopped by to pee on it, but it said: "Lore, follow The Force." so I replied: "You fucking idiot, what do you think I've done in the last 23 years? Piss off!" To which the burning bush replied: "But do you know where The Force lies?" "Of course I do, you silly old bush! - I said - The Force lies in the Iron and in this fucking arms of mine that can tear you another one!" "Aaaaight then!" And I moved on toward Damascus, because I was already late for my visit. When I got closer, I stopped by in a bar for coffee, and when I looked down into the cup, I saw all the divinities that I worship: Ben and Jerry, Big Malc, Terminator, Ripley and Call, Roy Batty and Deckard, Lt. Col. William Kilgore, Kate Moss and many more. And they all said to me: "The Board, Lore." I understood. I had been enlightened. And my life changed. I was only a trainer no more. I had become a board climber and I was now ready: I am not afraid.      

Source: TOTOLORE

[Nibile]

Usual start of the year post.
http://www.totolore.blogspot.it/2016/01/usual-start-of-year-post-or-not.html

[Luke Owens]

I still read about people training for sportclimbing by swimming, or cycling, and I'm fucking bored.

  Great post Nibs, it's great to read about your unrelenting psyche for training, it's inspiring!

Glad to hear it paid off and nice one on the ticks, well deserved!

[comPiler]

USUAL START OF THE YEAR POST. OR NOT?
2 January 2016, 1:59 pm

It's the time of the year in which we tend to look back and do our math.I was going through a few posts from last year and I bumped into the concept of sowing and then - hopefully - reaping the fruits. Fact is, if you don't sow you can only reap what Nature gives you, you have no choice. And Nature could also give you nothing. Or very little. And this very little could be reaped by others. So, you'd better sow. I kept sowing throughout the whole past year, and it's been oh so fun! I had never thought I could still take such a great pleasure in training. The weights. The Iron. Man, the Iron. It's so good, and it can do so good to you. I'm a bit bored about sharing all the details, about going on for ages on why you should sprint, hip-hinge, jump, snatch, etc. I still read about people training for sportclimbing by swimming, or cycling, and I'm fucking bored. I still read about people trying to lose weight by intermittent fasting, or keto-diets, without thinking for a split second in terms of quality of the weight you lose, of body composition, of relative strength, of fat-loss instead of weight loss, and I'm fucking bored. All the info we need to get smart training, at least under my perspective, that is the perspective of a nearly 44 year old male obsessed with strength, is out there. Feed the wolf that you want to grow stronger. Anyway, during last year, I not only rediscovered the Iron under new forms, I also found that I could devote myself to The Board even more. After a boiling Summer that I spent doing all the above mentioned, one day I took the decision that I was not going to set any new problems on my board, until I had climbed all the existing projects. It's been so far a great choice. A foolish choice, but a foolishly right one. I realized that I had the perfect bouldering right there, at a 5 meters walk from my kitchen.I had projects that really intrigued me, with idiotic sequences made only to be at the exact limit for that problem. I found myself climbing projects that I had been trying on and off for years and it's been great. It's been stressful, also, like on rock. Hard projecting, or siegeing, is a mental task. To climb one particular problem that I had set more or less three years ago, I had to keep trying just that single problem for four weeks, four sessions a week. If you do the math, it's quite easy to see that, had it been on rock, with me being able to climb outside no more than once a week if I'm lucky, it would have been impossible. Not to mention weather conditions, driving, and so on. I completely abandoned the idea of being a climber, I fully embraced the idea of being a trainer, and I found that I've never lived climbing so happily. It could seem trivial, but really dedicating all my time to the board is at the same time an extraordinary relief and stress. I walk by my board dozens of times every day. It's always there. The projets are always there. It is always dry, and with fans and air conditoning I can make conditions perfect for most of the year. The holds are always grippy. Basically, you can only stick at it, put the hours in, and perform when it's time. At the same time, the only way to climb a new thing is to get better and stronger. You have no excuses. There are no techy escapes, you can't change anything. It's great really. After a couple of specific projects that I climbed with a lot of dedication, I needed to take one week off from climbing, because I was mentally exhausted. Now tell me, who needs rock when you can get stressed in the comfort of your home? Eventually, right in the middle of this new way of living climbing, I found myself on rock. Eventually, I also found myself climbing some old projects and opening a few new lines. Eventually, I had a lot of fun and satisfaction. The first post of 2015 was about two lives that I had lived and also about a beautiful trip to Cresciano. This first post of 2016 is also about a trip to Cresciano, in the very same days of my last visit one year ago. I had my sights on two problems, and the magnificence of my failure has been, well... magnificent. I barely tried one being stopped by a move that I judged morpho and reachy, before reminding myself that shorter climbers than me had iced it. Blame the glassy holds and feet... But when a door is closed, often a window is opened and I saw that window open and got in. Switching from glassy holds and heel-hooks to clean, crimpy holds and feet, I immediately felt that a new love was born. On the second day of the trip, I behaved well and saved my skin and muscles. I climbed the classic "Un Uomo Un Perché", a beautiful and hard 6a. I rested a lot and then found a nice one move wonder to the right of "Slopey Traverse" called "Dragon Fly Power", 7b. It was a great feeling to find myself on top of a new problem for once. So we went to the sector where we all had our projects. The athmosphere was great and I was happy and ready. On my third go I climbed "Frankie Minchia" 8a+. And I had and have no words to describe it. Riding on the wave of this unexpected success, on my last day we went to Chironico where, after a few tries and after saying "There is no way I am going to do this move!" I climbed "Vitruvian Man" without the chipped hold. Bliss. Sow. Be patient. Reap. There you go, a year. I really think that only by getting rid of rock climbing I can now enjoy rock climbing. I know what I can do with the right time and the right conditions. I know that when I complain about greasy holds and soft skin, it could be an excuse but often it's not. I know that I am just a trainer, a board climber at best, and that I need to be lucky to climb on rock. In the meanwhile, I started sowing again. Pics now.

















Source: TOTOLORE

[comPiler]

ICONOCLASM
31 January 2016, 3:54 pm

I've been thinking about this thing for years now, and maybe it's time for me to get rid of it by sharing my thoughts. Maybe I find out that I'm not alone. As it's easy to imagine, I've spent quite a lot of time in climbing gyms during the last ten or fifteen years. It seems to me, that many Italian climbing gyms suffer from a very clichéd behaviour. The usual pattern, at least for the gyms that I've regularly been to, is that a strong climber at some point decides to open a gym, or to go and work somehow at an existing gym, maybe setting, maybe coaching. Let's not take into account, for the purpose of this post, the not so irrelevant aspect that many of the guys who do this aren't qualified neither to set nor to coach. I mean, officially and legally qualified. Like, they attended a course, passed some sort of evaluation, got a qualification. Let's not take into account that many simply apply to others the kind of training that worked for themselves, without reflecting over the circumstance that they may have been training for decades and are not novices that want to go from 5c to 6b. Let's overlook this all. What always left slackjawed, is the fact that, in the gyms that I know well, there is always a star, a leader that all the climbers worship. I am always shocked by how everyone seems to be needing a boss to which refer, and whose words are thought to be taken as absolute truth.I've seen things, that you people wouldn't believe. Groups of beginners destroying themselves on a campusboard for hours and weeks on end, because the rock star gave them a training plan. 14 years old, 40 kilos talents ripping their muscles with weighted pull ups, because the rock star wanted to test their strength level before coaching them. Groups of 10 novices following the rock star like dumb prisoners, each one with a crashpad on their shoulders, as the leader tries all day his dangerous projects, brushing a couple of rocks nearby to make the children play when off spotting duty. I've heard every kind of amazed, adulatory and self depressing comment about the leader: "I'll never be as strong as he is." "He could be in the national team if he wanted." "Only he, can climb this." and so on.  I despise this servility. A strong climber that operates in your gym, is just that. He's not a leader, a life guru, or someone to worship. He could be someone to admire, if he deserves it, and when he deserves it. I wonder why these people always need a chief.

To me, climbing has always been about the highest form of individualism, a radical behaviour that follows the rule that you are always alone on the rock. You may be tied to another person, but when climbing, you're alone. You're alone because you only have the responsibility of your own actions, and of the consequences that those actions can have on the other person.

We are always alone on the rock: if we want to kick down a rock, we can do it; if we want not to clip into the bolts, we can do it. Because we are alone and no one can stop us. But if the rock falls on the head of someone, or if a nasty fall puts everyone at danger, it's only our fault. There's no sharing in climbing, there is only putting together small bits of individual effort. We share the experience, but not the climbing.

This individualism was immediately evident to me, because before starting climbing, I'd always participated in team sports.

All I knew was that everyone was stronger than me, everyone was better than me, and that I wanted to become stronger and better than all those people.

My friends and everyone who was stronger than me, were more targets than role models. I copied what they were doing, maybe even their attitude, but only to have an easier target to destroy.

They were still friends and brothers in real life, though.

Even now, despite struggling to stay attached to the sport with everyday's life committments, I have no gods, no leaders, no models.

There is a huge difference between esteem and idolatry; between matter-of-factness and self-deprecation.

I don't know what people like in this attitude. Maybe it's because they think that some of the leader's golden dust will rub on them. Maybe it's because they like to shine with mirrored light.

In doing so, they accept and embrace mediocrity, because they accept that they will never be as good as their duce, their leader, their god. They could progress, but... they will never be like him. Or her.

I would like that these people kill their idols.

I would like that they shine of their own light, strong or feeble, but theirs.

I would like that they say: fuck you I'm not spotting you all day and carry your pads.

I would like that they take the risk of wanting to get stronger and better that anyone else, or at least as strong and as good as humanly possible for them.

But no, for them it's better to be part of a crew. It's better to hide behind a star and be happy to be their friend, their follower, their crashpad caddy, their belay slave.    

I don't even want to spend a word about the other side of this Janus' mask. The Leader, the Guru, the Star.

Jesus fucking Christ, guys. Get a fucking grip. Have some dignity.

Be great, be shit, but be yourself and not a pale face in the crowd of worshippers. Become your own god. Become your own model. Become your own target.



Source: TOTOLORE

[ghisino]

it is funny i have seen what you describe when i was home in Italy as well.

I don't see it in Paris, but a friend who made his phd thesis on climbing sociology (!) reported something vaguely similar in his own region (Alsace) and time (mid-end 90's), although it took place at actual crags and saw several teams of leader and followers "fighting" each other.

my friend's interpretation of this follows Pierre Bourdieu's approach, whose main assumption is that competition and symbolic violence can be found in any social field. Everybody tries to achieve a form of supremacy or "honour" in their own field(s).

so why do followers follow, according to our sociologist? Because it is clear for them that they cannot compete to directly for any meaningful position, and the amount of statust they get for their "temwork" is higher than what they would achieve alone.

It is as if at a climbing comp you could either choose to compete or to be the personal hold-brusher of a finalist, and those who are too weak to even dream about semis chose the second option - as brushing in the finals is still making the finals in a way...

if we accept this framework, the self depressing comments can be seen as having a double purpose:
1) Act of submission to the leader
2) Attempt to maintain/increase the leader's status. (as being the follower of the strongest leader is what gives you the most "follower points")

it would be interesting to know if things work similarly in UK?

[shark]

What if Malc was a regular at your gym 

[cjsheps]

Thanks for writing this Nibs - it's helped me come to some conclusions about one of the guys I regularly climb with, that's set himself up as the star in the limelight.

[Nibile]

What if Malc was a regular at your gym 

I would worship him privately as I actually do.
Besides, Malc doesn't seem to be one who likes followers or flatterers.

[DAVETHOMAS90]

Do you mean:

What if Malc "Be great, be shit, but be yourself and not a pale face in the crowd of worshippers. Become your own god" Smith was a regular at your gym? 

..you'd probably be grateful for a few fee paying sycophants 

Cracking post Lore!

[Nibile]

Cheers guys, I wasn't alone after all!
@Ghisino
That's quite interesting!

[Oldmanmatt]

I spend 5/6 days per week, all day, at a climbing gym.

No comment.


Except, I shared that on my "private" Farcebook...

Sent from my iPad using Tapatalk

[jwi]

I have seen this in some gyms and not in others. Don't have a grand unified  theory

[Oldmanmatt]

I have seen this in some gyms and not in others. Don't have a grand unified  theory

My reading of Lore's comments and my own view, is that this is less an all encompassing view of climbers in general; and more an exhortation to those who might stray down the route of idolatry.



Sent from my iPad using Tapatalk

[Nibile]

I don't have a grand unified theory either, as I wrote this is just what I saw happening in many gyms that I've visited regularly.
It's also true what Matt says.