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The Flash: Rock+Run Blog

Looking up at the trail of pockets, the confines of the blue streak suddenly assume a tunnel like character. My mind is relieved of its other duties now, and nothing else matters. Nervousness sets in. The pockets continue out of sight, and this aggravates the feeling of gradual solidification in my forearms. I become aware of my heartbeat, measured at first, like a metronome keeping time with the route. Pocket, crimp, big move...jug, clip...“breath”... But the tempo quickly increases until the pounding is difficult to ignore - the threat that it will seal the fate of my weakening grip weighs on my mind. Resting is impossible now, the only solution - to press on. Undercut, twist, drop-knee. Glance at the target, and desperately muster some power from the bottom of the barrel. The run out makes its presence felt, but this is no time for hesitation – it’s now or never. And then, in moments, it’s over. A hurried slap that failed to measure up and a long, arching fall. Le privililege du serpent had won, the flash gone forever, but the schooling it gave me felt totally appropriate: being there alone was a privilege.
  • 11 min read