Finally, I’m writing the words I wanted to share. In writing I find clarity and peace. It is a form of therapy. It’s been almost a year since this accident. It was traumatic and finding the words has taken some time…
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It’s early in the climbing season; My friend and I head to the crag. I’m totally excited. I’ve had a few promising days on the rock, but for most of the snowy winter I was committed to long indoor training sessions - hang boarding, bouldering, and reps on the treadwall. In this moment, I feel stronger and more confident about my strength than I’ve felt in, perhaps, 10 years.
We chat about which crag to go to and climbs to get on. I don’t usually like to push my agenda, so when my friend suggests we get on my project of three years, Via Florina (5.12a), my adreneline surges and my mind races with excitement. I’ve spent a big part of the winter working the upper crux of this climb on a simulation on the bouldering wall. I have it down. It’s a high right foot, then a strong move up to a shitty right hand, slightly overhung, crimper. You can clip from there or move the left hand up to an open handed hold, which is only slightly better. For the last few years I’ve nearly reached the shitty crimp. Then, once I finally got to it, I'd peal off, lacking core strength, finger strength, right hamstring pulling power, and belief. One time I cut my finger so badly when pealing off I now have a little dose of fear when facing that hold. But this year I really believe that I’m ready for the route. In my racing thoughts, I ponder my friend’s suggestion to climb Via Florina. Do I really want to climb this project again? One part of my brain is so pumped, telling me, “Yes! Let’s do it!” The other part of my brain reminds me that I did my first ever full-length triathalon two days ago and I’m still exhausted. |
Naomi lead climbing two weeks earlier on the climb "Not Fade Away" (5.12b), Skaha, British Columbia. Photo Credit: Eric Dahlberg
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Next, this thought enters my mental conversation,
“This is the last day this week you have to climb - your kids return, then no climbing for a week. Who knows when you’ll get your next opportunity to get on your project?!” The talk in my head continues, “And, you are with your ‘yes’ friend. Do you remember when you said to yourself ‘whatever she asks you to do just say yes’ and you will get stronger and fitter?"
So I said, “Yes!”
As I clip the draws, I struggle with the lower roof crack crux. This is a section of the climb that has never been difficult for me. Am I more fatigued than I realize?
I move beyond, towards the top crux. I can get my hand on the crimper much more easily than in times past. Maybe my training is paying off. And, it feels like I’m ready to stick the left open hand hold and clip. I give myself the courage and move out to the left open hand. I’m on it! Then I feel a shift, like a light switch; Something inside me stops believing.
Now, I feel afraid and pumped. I let myself slip off.
It’s a tricky fall with the bolt under the roof. The fall angle isn’t great and there isn’t a ton of rope in the system. I fall into the rock on an angle, coming in, smoking hot, onto my right leg. My foot impacts the rock and an incredible force rushes up through my ankle, lower leg and upper leg. It’s a zap unlike anything I’ve felt before. I’m shaken and afraid.
I pause in total shock knowing, both from the messages in my body and my knowledge as a physiotherapist, that this isn’t good. Without thought, gripped in a deep, scared, emotional reaction, I yell, spraying words at myself and my belayer - blaming them, blaming myself, blaming all the stories of fear and frustration. I am ashamed of the words coming out of my mouth during this traumatic moment.
As the words subside, I hang on the on the rope and wonder, “Can I finish the climb?”
I try to put my foot on the rock. I feel heat around my ankle. My lower leg is tingling allover. I know the way in which I collided with the wall is a mechanism for fracturing the heel. I immediately assume that is my injury.
I lower off slowly. As I reach the ground I try to put my foot down. I watch my lower leg (tibia and fibula) move forward over my ankle far greater than they are meant to. I realise that my achilles is likely ruptured. The intense heel pain makes me think my calcaneal (heel) bone is also fractured.
It’s a 20 minute walk to the car and it’s obvious I can’t bear weight on my foot. A friend was going to be joining us, so he messages and says he’ll come help. There is also a group near by who offer their help. In this moment of despair, I feel the love of the climbing community.
Together someone carries the packs and I get a shoulder to lean on.
We experiment with a few methods - with a stick or leaning on a shoulder, but, in the end, the best option is when three guys carry me on their backs in rotation.
“This is the last day this week you have to climb - your kids return, then no climbing for a week. Who knows when you’ll get your next opportunity to get on your project?!” The talk in my head continues, “And, you are with your ‘yes’ friend. Do you remember when you said to yourself ‘whatever she asks you to do just say yes’ and you will get stronger and fitter?"
So I said, “Yes!”
As I clip the draws, I struggle with the lower roof crack crux. This is a section of the climb that has never been difficult for me. Am I more fatigued than I realize?
I move beyond, towards the top crux. I can get my hand on the crimper much more easily than in times past. Maybe my training is paying off. And, it feels like I’m ready to stick the left open hand hold and clip. I give myself the courage and move out to the left open hand. I’m on it! Then I feel a shift, like a light switch; Something inside me stops believing.
Now, I feel afraid and pumped. I let myself slip off.
It’s a tricky fall with the bolt under the roof. The fall angle isn’t great and there isn’t a ton of rope in the system. I fall into the rock on an angle, coming in, smoking hot, onto my right leg. My foot impacts the rock and an incredible force rushes up through my ankle, lower leg and upper leg. It’s a zap unlike anything I’ve felt before. I’m shaken and afraid.
I pause in total shock knowing, both from the messages in my body and my knowledge as a physiotherapist, that this isn’t good. Without thought, gripped in a deep, scared, emotional reaction, I yell, spraying words at myself and my belayer - blaming them, blaming myself, blaming all the stories of fear and frustration. I am ashamed of the words coming out of my mouth during this traumatic moment.
As the words subside, I hang on the on the rope and wonder, “Can I finish the climb?”
I try to put my foot on the rock. I feel heat around my ankle. My lower leg is tingling allover. I know the way in which I collided with the wall is a mechanism for fracturing the heel. I immediately assume that is my injury.
I lower off slowly. As I reach the ground I try to put my foot down. I watch my lower leg (tibia and fibula) move forward over my ankle far greater than they are meant to. I realise that my achilles is likely ruptured. The intense heel pain makes me think my calcaneal (heel) bone is also fractured.
It’s a 20 minute walk to the car and it’s obvious I can’t bear weight on my foot. A friend was going to be joining us, so he messages and says he’ll come help. There is also a group near by who offer their help. In this moment of despair, I feel the love of the climbing community.
Together someone carries the packs and I get a shoulder to lean on.
We experiment with a few methods - with a stick or leaning on a shoulder, but, in the end, the best option is when three guys carry me on their backs in rotation.
Experimenting with ways to exit the crag. Photo credit: Ann-Marie Gill
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Naomi being carried out after the injury. Photo credit: Ann-Marie Gill
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My head is right at their ear.
It feels oddly intimate and deeply caring. They are giving me a precious gift with their help. I talk softly in their ear, feeling compelled to share a few moments of personal joy with them. I am grateful for them
Getting cast on Photo Credit: Ann-Marie Gill
The doctor confirmed a ruptured achilles and a bruised heel and ankle joint. Thankfully the injuries were not more extensive. But, despite this, I have devastation inside my heart.
I trained hard for that season. I put a lot of pressure on myself to get results. And, more recently, I've had the rare time to climb again because I’d separated from my husband and the kids would join him. Climbing could, once again, become my focus.
On the rock I could forget about relationships and the feelings of failure. I could find success and joy from connecting with nature, from being strong, sending my projects and from meeting new, fresh people. Now, all of this felt ripped from me, just as I was grasping for it.
Hang boarding at home the day after the injury.
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Naomi climbing with a boot 18 days post-injury. (Makeout, 5.11a in Revelstoke, British Columbia) Photo Credit: Martin Janda
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In my head, I know I have been through much, much worse - child birth, to learning to be a mother, to recovering from post natal depression, to looking down the face of a failing marriage, two knee reconstructions where my surgeon said I’d never run or play sport again. I know how well the body heals. I know that this too will pass. But, still, the sadness is deep. Although this injury is simple - follow the protocol and it will heal - it still takes a full year to recover.
As I move beyond the initial sorrow, I can see other ways I have grown from the experience.
Having this injury has allowed many people a way to connect with me, and it has challenged me to ask for and accept help. I had to rely on people to put up climbs to top rope. I have met more people and created more new friendships through this injury than if I was climbing at full strength. Life has a funny way of creating a journey that looks different than you imagined.
Now, as I look ahead to the coming season, I notice Winter shifting into Spring again. Nearly one year later, I feel a mixture of excitement and fear about returning to lead climbing, to taking falls and trusting my achilles. I have grown stronger again. And, I look forward to the car rides to the crag with my friends and taking the opportunities to reach out for my projects, once again.
Making new friends. I met Marie on Instagram. She reached out to me because she also ruptured her achilles and wanted my physio-climbing advice. I was in Squamish for the Climbing Medical Symposium and asked her if she wanted to go climbing. This was her first day back outdoor climbing. It was a privilege to share the moment. She was at 20 weeks post rupture and I was at 14 weeks post rupture. Photo Credit: Tyrone Brett
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Post-injury, Naomi is top rope climbing back at her grade. This is "Mrs Negative" (5.12a) in Cheakamus Canyon, Squamish BC. Photo Credit: Yasser El-Sheikh
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