When I look at a climb outdoors, it's the scariest, most intimidating lines which excite me the most. Not scary-dangerous but scary because they're beautiful, awesome and look unimaginably hard. By staring up at the route, and even trying it for the first time I catch a glimpse of a wild, obsessive journey ahead. That glimpse is terrifying, yet nothing excites me more. What's ahead is a whole process of learning the moves, endless fails, cycles of doubt and disbelief, small wins, links and a rollercoaster of emotions. I'll set my mind on this route and it will become so much a part of my everyday life; my thoughts, my dreams, my decisions, and my training that by the time I've sent it, I have learned every hold and movement that the climb feels like a close friend. I don't need to think; just move up the wall. Then, just like finishing a good book, I clip the anchor and almost grieve the journey now behind me, but happiness and fulfillment flood my veins.
My recent decision to follow my passion for the outdoors, rather than a singular focus of World Cups and the Olympics, is similar to looking at a new project outdoors. You're aware it's going to be hard; you're going to be judged by others, but mainly by yourself, you're going to have to make sacrifices, create your own goals, and you'll still have your doubts and question whether it was the right route to project. Notwithstanding this, deep down, despite all these unknowns, there will be a fire in your belly, a curiosity needing to be quenched, and a desire for this obsession and purpose.
Next year is going to be incredible. I'm psyched to be making some exciting plans and so grateful to my friends, family and sponsors for being equally as excited for this decision as me. Already there are a couple of lines I cannot stop thinking about.