Momentary Blindness 
The sound of bodies hitting walls and shoes scuffing on plastic rocks reverberates in the cavernous room.  My harness clinks against the flesh of my backpack with each step and the sole of my shoes poke against the fabric, a physical nudge to start climbing. The sweet scent of magnesium carbonate hits my nose as I place my hand inside the chalk bag.  The powder is smooth against my fingers, soft against the blisters rupturing across my knuckles.  My feet bounce on the landing pad as I walk up towards the wall.  I can hear the shouts of my friends as they encourage each other further up, their voices blending together into a medley of support and trust.  One of my friends has started to panic about the height of her ascent, her panicked voice carrying a hint of shrillness and stifled laughter.  I can hear the snickering of the front desk person as she continues to contemplate her doom and the soft click of an ever-present iPhone camera.  The whirr of the auto-belay system cuts through my thoughts and the thump of footsteps draws closer towards me.  I secure my hold on the first grip, a round ball slick with climbing chalk and latch my feet onto the bottom of the wall.  Already, my fingers are starting to cramp, and my blisters are pulsating against the plastic holds. My muscles scream for relief and I can hear my friends shouting my name at the base.  With shaking forearms, I lower myself back down, wincing as the rope cuts across my arms.  As my friends and I leave the now silent gym, empty but for typing at the front desk, I hear the employee whispering “finally” as she locks the door behind us.  
Rocksport-January 25th   

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