Over the course of two days, top level competitors from all over the world descended on Boulder, Colorado, for one of the most elite climbing competitions our country has to offer. A sizable pool of rock climbing professionals paid hundreds of dollars on airfare, food, lodging, and competition entry for a shot at winning the American Bouldering Series National Championship. Cooped up inside a cold, dusty warehouse equipped with the most elegant and creative walls this circuit has ever seen, we were given a total of 24 minutes to climb on 6 Qualifying problems—showcasing an entire year’s worth of training and preparation. Hundreds of hours spent pulling to the death in chalky, back-alley buildings, would culminate in just a few minutes of success or failure.

So why bother competing? What’s the big deal?

Some come to test their abilities and ego among the best in the country. Others come to party with their friends as if tomorrow won’t come. Many do both. However, at the epicenter of this competition frenzy, I like to believe that there lies one common denominator: Passion. We all share it. It’s our addiction. It’s everything. And being among this small group of people, even just for a few days, always reminds me of what I am constantly training for and why I will never stop. Whether it’s inside or outside, exceeding efforts beyond your best is definitely an experience I always look forward to.

Outside of this big picture, I can honestly say for the first time that I am satisfied with my performance—14th at the ABS National Championship. Having never been on a climbing team growing up, I completely missed out on competing and being coached in my younger years. I am not using this fact as an excuse or a crutch for this competition or any other; however, it does feel good to know that at any stage in one’s climbing career, whether they have had the privilege to grow up alongside coaches or not, it is possible to join the ranks of the most skilled competitors in the country with one simple thing: Hard Work.

Bottom line is that this whole game; training, preparing, focusing, executing, and partying—it’s fun as hell. Oh, and Jon Glassberg, Carlo Traversi, Ryan Silven, Rob D–Jesus H. Christ–these guys know how to party (I can’t believe I survived). Psyched we all hung out. Until next time.

Thoughts: A Few Idiosyncrasies on Competition Climbing (Every event adds to my evolution of thought within the confines of competition climbing. Here’s what sprouted in my mind this time around.)

Setting Opinion: It seemed that the judging style, Bonus and Tops, did not quite correlate to the style of setting, causing some notable disparity in separation. However, since the competition rules are the same for every competitor, there is no excuse for a less than satisfying performance. You either get it done or you don’t. No judging, rules, setting, points, or gravitational flux can act as a cushion of reprieve for those who fail to move on to the next round.

Regardless of points and strategy, the quality of each boulder problem was doubtlessly top notch. Qualifiers may have been a touch on the easy-side, while Semi-Finals may have been a touch on the hard-side. Finals, to me at least, worked out perfectly, creating an apex of energy on Finals #3; a glorious finish by both Alex Puccio and Sean McColl, slamming the hammer down in front of the crowd with an animalistic sense of power and cold-blooded instinct that only a veteran competitor can hone.

Veterans Versus Rookies: Before Qualifiers, I spent an hour in a dimly lit isolation warming up on the small, slightly over-hanging plywood walls surrounded by my climbing heroes. I asked one of them, Magnus Midtboe, if he still gets nervous. His answer was, “No.”

He competes at about 10 extremely high-level competitions a year—a true professional in every sense of the word. He politely asked me if I still get nervous. Of course I do. I get more nervous than brain surgeon at his first operation. But I’ve learned that it’s better to have this sense of urgency than it is to not have it. For experienced competitors, this sort of event is just another day in the office. For me, every move, every hold, and every foot placement feels like life and death. By the end of my circuit, I am nauseas and broken. But it is this healthy fear and anxiety that pushes me up to 11th place at the end of Qualifiers.

Attempts: I fell on Semi-Final #1 three times. If I had fallen just once, I would have made Finals. At this level of competition, every single movement counts. If you try something more than twice, chances are you have already failed. Take a seat. And since most problems are no harder than V11, you must either flash to the Bonus Hold or Top, or send on your second try. This point is extremely important to achieving success.

Progression of the Sport: ABS Nationals is unanimously considered one of the top level of competition—the big show, the biggest stage, the greatest spectator and competitor field in the country. With this in mind, it was extremely depressing to look around at the number of people that stuck around for awards. As the top three male and female climbers were given their awards for the Championship, there were probably about 40 to 50 people present—lazily watching with an “I’m pretty much over this” kind of face.

Now, envision the NBA Championships, or the Super Bowl, or the Stanley Cup, or even a championship golf tournament. The relationship is night and day. ABS Nationals is our sports competition showcase and it just felt like a flickering candle in the wind compared to a well-established sports organization in America. With the advent of the UBC and USA Climbing working together, I believe this will soon change. But this change cannot come soon enough.

Thank  you setting crew, wall crew, NE2C, UBC, USA Climbing, and everyone else involved in the event. And congrats to all the Finalists! See you next year!