If I don’t get out and scare the bejesus out of myself at least once every couple weeks, things start to get a little weird. I’ve been climbing for about five years now, the main outlet for any restless energy built up while working in the city. While I don’t consider myself an adrenaline junkie, there’s a certain kind of perspective found when you’re 20 feet above your last rattly cam placement. It’s this state of consciousness that I continue to look for. Not an amped up, blind charge into a dangerous situation, but the calm that comes with knowing your capabilities when you need them most. Needless to say, I’m still far from mastering this perspective, but to me, ‘give’r’ lies within the search.
But dammit, let’s not forget to have fun. Growing up in Colorado, I was fortunate enough for fun to become one and the same as being outside. From romping around Fraser with my sister to skiing the Front Range, my family sure taught me how to have a good time. Nowadays you’ll find me still here, a rare Colorado native still playing in the mountains of my home state. Most of the times I feel like a lost puppy on that search for the zen I mentioned earlier. But if you see me wavering at the top of a steep chute or quivering too far above my last piece of pro, just give me a hoot and holler and if the wind is right, I'll go ahead and give'r.