Everyday Dirtbag Entry #72.

I’m teaching Fall of the Phantom Lord again, the book by Andrew Todhunter, a nonfiction narrative that follows Dan Osman during his last two years before the fall.

I reread that section about Katie Brown and Chris Sharma coming up, how they excelled because they weren’t afraid to fail, how they’d fall a hundred times just to succeed once, fall over and over and over without a change of attitude. The new generation. The gym-rat generation.

And that got me thinking…

Sure I fail, but do I fail enough.? Am I willing to fall 100 times to succeed once? Do I take pride in my failure? Do I revel in it, expect it, and show my failure love?

I don’t think so. Therefore, here goes. I’m going to embrace my failure.

If I was to write an awkward and juvenile love haiku to my failure, it would go like this:

Failure, I love you

want to bed down, sleep with you

cuddle now always.

But is that enough of an image? No. So here goes again. A real image. An image image (picture image). This is me climbing at Smith Rock, about to fail on a route that should have been way below my ability level (I caught my left arm in the rope as I was about to clip):

And here’s me about to fail on another route that I was sure I could send right then. Same day at Smith:

See, I can fail anywhere, any time, for any reason. And that’s me.

Failure, I love you forever.


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