"Oh I heard you climb! Yea I'm just getting into it... so are you good?" "Like what grades do you climb?" "How hard do you send?"
Berkeley Ironworks, just a year ago a niche known to few strong fingers and focused breathers, is no longer safe from the egos of the overwhelming Berkeley High School student body. Seemingly overnight, every student, and their friend group, and their cousin, and their celebrity crush, and their neighbor's Carhartt drycleaner descended, traveling in packs with chalky hands and showboat swagger.
One such climber, as a Blazer writer opened their mouth to ask their first interview question, interjected: "I started six weeks ago, and I'm climbing V6 now, so it's pretty perfect. Six weeks, V6. As soon as I realized climbing was my true passion and identity, I dropped my hobbies - soccer, family dinner, non-climbing friendsand hit the gym. No rest days is the key to my success. I'm working on flashing my first 10 tonight."
As their former safe haven succumbed to the Trends, climbers split into two camps: those who doubled down on their head start and, finding a muscle-building flow, rose above the masses, and those who drowned in the ever-present eyes of their classmates and were pushed into the darkness of the 9-10pm window just before the gym closes as shame and pressure ate away at their ligaments. Truth be told, the influx of climbers to the sport is positive - everyone should experience this project-puzzling, shoulder-engaging, and dynamic community in their lifetime. And new climbing partners are exciting! However, truth is often trumped by bitterness.