Photo: Joan Sorolla
So I woke up one day with this ache that ran from my neck to my hand. The pain was a solid six (on a scale of ten), and it was constant enough to interfere with my day-to-day.
Googling wasn’t the best of ideas, since the symptoms matched that of a heart attack. Two doctor appointments and one Chinese masseuse (not a sitcom) later, I’m still perplexed as to what it was.
This is me on a good day. You wouldn’t want to see what I eat on the daily.
So it’s been more than three months since I’ve turned vegetarian. I figured the one month mark wouldn’t do it justice, so I held on for a bit before starting on this post.
The first thing that you’d probably ask—especially if you’ve known me—is why? Why succumb yourself to such torture? Have you found a new religion? Are you a PETA member now?
Shit I don’t think I can make this move.
Looks like a scary drop if I don’t stick this.
Am I tied in properly?
Why am I doing this again?
Not limited to one thought per climb, I often find myself second-guessing my intent of trusting my life with a pulley the width of my pinky. Not to mention the tedious work involved in building the strength and technique needed to finish a route. But completing a project I’ve been working on makes it all worth it in the end.