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Tendon injuries, and why ibuprofen was more important than penicillin

I need to write a new blog post. Here it is.

Life continues at the same relaxing (yet simultaneously hectic) rate that traveling seems to curate. Climbing has been going well since my last post, and work on "Throwing the Houlihan" continued until (as most of my belayer would have predicted) I ended up with a finger injury(s). So, unfortunately, my season on that particular project is over. It was hard to let it go, I've been dreaming of that route for years now, but torn pulleys have a way of convincing even the most stubborn. But, on the bright side, I can still climb (and even pull somewhat hard!), with a healthy combination of ibuprofen and buddy taping (more of the former than the latter). Got some mileage in today, and topped it off with a second-go send of one of the coolest roof routes I've ever been on, "Calamity Jane", 5.13b. I see (belay) partners in my future (frickin finally), and perhaps even some visits to different crags...can this Wild Iris climber hang on for more than 10 hand movements without getting pumped?? The answer is probably no, but hey, stay tuned to find out! Till then, enjoy this little diddy. Stars man....


Why do we adventure? It's a question disturbingly pertinent in our modern lifestyles, in which the computer's cursor is a seemingly more efficient guide to happiness than the smell of crisp mountain air, or aching muscles after a day brimming with impossibility. And, of course, answers to such a question are countless, and each will provide their own, but mine lies in the night sky. When squalling winds converge perfectly to clear the expanse above, and one lies upon a smooth, weather polished slab of limestone in order to gaze upward, the mind is allowed to wander where eyes may only observe. The black velvet above creaks and groans with the weight of the stars it holds, as if one more point of light would serve to bring all of its brethren crashing towards earth in glorious cacophony, to lie in smoldering craters beneath an inky darkness. So we adventure because it is the only way we know to, like fruit taken from a branch weighted heavy with life, pluck stars from above in order to lighten the sky's burden. And, in the midst of flames from the nearby campfire dancing upon surrounding trees in a shadowy waltz, we lay upon our slabs of limestone, listen to the rustle of a curious breeze, and tuck our secret handfuls of starlight into pockets deep within our hearts, until, someday, it is time for it to escape, so our great grandchildren may follow it to the same beautiful places it has inspired us to explore. 

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