Inching my way up the cold unforgiving flank of each week is almost insurmountably difficult. My approach involves an hour-by-hour, minute-by-minute focus in which I edge from one precarious balance to another, all the while resisting the urge to tumble backwards into oblivion simply by letting go.
From a distance each week looks as smooth and hard as Portland stone, but right up close there are toeholds, tiny ledges to hold me a up a little while, until I can settle my equilibrium and creep tentatively to the next situation. A phone call. Ten minutes with a magazine. A walk over a bridge before a meeting. A coffee. A little chat on Facebook.
So what happens when I reach up, fingers straining at full stretch, to find the next place to hold on has gone? I'm doing this climb without a harness - when does a gripping point become a tipping point?
I've never been climbing so I don't know what happens next.
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