My latest comp was divisionals. These are the kids trying to make nationals. I’m not sure how many kids make it from each group, but it’s a two-day competition with two routes on the first day and one on the second. I’m lucky in that the organizers who set the comps up at my gym like me, so I get the fun and most difficult routes. I had a little bit of controversy on the first day (there was some supposedly illegal coaching going on and my eyes got crossed when one kid fell from a higher hold than I witnessed. But she was right and I changed her score appropriately), but the second day was smooth.
I like watching the kids prepare while they sit in the chair with their backs turned away from the wall; only the roars from the crowd tell them how the previous competitor did. Some of them smile and some take deep breaths. Some know that they have no shot from the start, but they all try. About half scout the route out before climbing with the other half jumping on the route and taking the holds as they come. It’s an emotional roller coaster for some; whether they win or lose their nerves are a mess from start to finish. Pure effort often amazes the crowd as much as grace and talent do. Everyone likes to see the kid who gets to the top, but no one denies his heart goes out to the kid who has dropped the rope three times while trying to clip, with the shaking in her pumped arm moving out to her shoulders and then to her abs before shaking her from the precarious foothold that’s all that’s keeping her on the wall. A few kids shriek during the fall, and the falls can be big or small, but they’re all soft. Most kids can barely hold a pen after they’re done. Signing their initials is as much of an adventure as on-sighting above their level.
And I enjoy seeing the parents each year. I only get to see most of them once per year. They’re mostly happy people, at least on that day. The kids are good, too, and it’s nice to see them grow and progress even though I don’t have the same social connection to them as I do with the parents. I can’t go wrong with a free t-shirt and food. The adrenaline feels great when I get the call right. I’m going to miss doing comps when I move away. I don’t have any kids, so I’m not at the comps because of them. I do it because I like it.
Some people do trail work, but I like this. It isn’t much of a contribution, but it’s something. I’d like to think I’ve learned something over the years. I’d like to think that I’ll know how to treat my kids when they do comps at whichever sport they choose. Maybe the trail I’m working on won’t be used for many years. That’s OK. I’ll miss it when I leave it, but I’ll embrace it fondly when I return to it in my later years. I honestly can’t wait until I stand aside as a judge. The thought makes me smile.
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