On my 64th birthday my family and I were camping in Joshua Tree to celebrate my special day and my daughter lined up a surprise afternoon climbing session for the two of us with a local guide.  When we got to the crag I looked up at the mass of vertical rock and completely froze and refused to climb.  With some coaxing I finally agreed to climb, exactly 1 foot.  So, carefully I placed one foot on the rock, and waited.  Then I agreed to go just one foot further.  And then another.  80 feet later, my life was changed. (W.A.C. 5.8).

​I’ll be 67 this September, and I’ve been climbing ever since that 64th birthday. In fact, I’m about to move to Joshua Tree so I can treat myself to full immersion in the sun, rock, sand, stars and moon.  As far as I can tell, this is the only way to do this thing we call climbing--I can’t call it a “sport.” It certainly gives the concept of traditional “retirement” a fresh spin. ​

This is an unlikely endeavor for me, and it’s caused some raised eyebrows.  I’m a Type 1 Diabetic, meaning, I’m dependent upon insulin 24/7.  I was diagnosed at the age of 48, which is a late age for what used to be called Juvenile Diabetes.  Since then I’ve used an insulin pump and a Continuous Glucose Monitoring system to get readings on my blood sugars and deliver insulin continuously throughout the day. ​

​In addition, I was diagnosed with some concurrent diseases: Celiac Disease and Lyme Disease which resulted in my leaving my job, going on total Disability and housebound, exhausted and depressed.

I believe there comes a point where you make some decisions.  In 2017, despite the best self-care and doctoring, I was not getting better.  More rest, more vitamins, didn’t seem to be helping.  After my first climbing adventure in Joshua Tree I decided to do the counter-intuitive - get to the gym, get moving, and get climbing. 
 
The up side of my decision to climb was that I really couldn’t lose.  Being a climber in my 60’s means anything I do is pretty fabulous.  My first thoughts on the rock were ones of curiosity “what can my body do? What is possible for me as a senior, as a diabetic, as someone who has never been an athlete?  Can I build muscle at this age?  And, am I capable of learning ropes, knots, anchors?  Could I ever be a reliable partner?”

Some years ago I was given a book called Younger Next Year to encourage me to get active.  In part, it gave “rules” for avoiding the decay and decline of getting old:  1) Exercise six days a week for the rest of your life; 2) Do serious aerobic exercise four days a week for the rest of your life; 3) Do serious strength training, with weights, two days a week for the rest of your life.
 
Well, bingo!  Rock climbing checked off all the boxes and so I decided to go all in. 
 
In October 2017 I joined our local climbing gym, Pipeworks.  I was so smitten with Joshua Tree climbing that on my first visit to Pipeworks I sat in the parking lot and cried.  I did not want to take that beautiful climbing experience indoors and join the throngs of college kids moving up and down those walls.  But I got over it. I asked for a coach, and was paired with Ryan who was then 27 years old.  I told him “I don’t want to compete with anyone.  I just want to be the best me that I can be.” ​

I think Ryan had a vision of what he could do with this older body on the wall. For the last two and a half years we have met at the climbing gym to teach me indoor climbing, with emphasis on skills that can translate to real rock.  He has patiently taught me technique, “quiet feet,” strength and endurance training, hip movement and flow.  Without calling me “old” - which he knows I won’t tolerate - he reminds me that when we are older and we have to be extra careful to avoid injuries.  So, Ryan has brought the warm-up to the level of an art form. And I have homework assignments for working antagonist muscle groups, pull muscles, and light hangboarding. ​

There’s no getting around the benefits of climbing hard in the gym.  These twice-weekly sessions have shaved pounds off my frame, and given me an impressive set of upper body muscles.  On climbing days I need almost no insulin! 
 
And, finally I am feeling a grace to my movements on the walls.  Where once I was barely able to muscle up a 5.7 in our gym, I will today be working on overhung 10d’s and 11a’s.  I go home thinking about the one that got away - the move or the sequence that I just couldn’t pull off.  Like everyone else who has caught the gym fever, I will come back to refine a pinch or a crimp so I can master that side-pull, or whatever it was that prevented the send.
 
But my heart is always in the desert, or the mountains, on real rock. It’s like a love-affair that won’t go away.
 
Now, my days with Ryan at the gym are numbered.  I am leaving my business of 33 years, and selling my large home, to go find some stars.  I’m searching for a way to stay connected to my 7 grandkids and 3 living children.  All the other grandparents have now died.  I get comments like “There’s mom, hanging from another cliff out there in the desert!”  My grandkids are endlessly interested in the cams and nuts on my belt.  It’s bittersweet to choose to follow this new muse.

All I can say about my outdoor climbing is that it is continually astonishing to be doing this.  On my last trip to Joshua Tree I climbed a route that was a sustained 10c--every moment of it was intense, focused and exhilarating.  The view from the top was surreal. 

I have totally given myself over to the guides, instructors and climbing friends who know me better than I seem to know myself: if they suggest a route, I’ll give it a go.  Crack climbing is finally making sense to me, and slab of any angle is what I go home dreaming about.  Figures on a Landscape (10b) is my current fantasy--beautiful, dancelike lines that call one to an almost spiritual merging with rock and nature.  I cannot sit at my desk any longer, working with clients on my computer. I have to get out and put my hands and feet on those rocks.

​The downside of climbing with diabetes for me is that there are limits.  Low blood sugars can come on like a freight train and cause weakness, loss of consciousness, anxiety and panic that is unstoppable.  I don’t believe there is any surefire way to prevent these episodes of low blood sugar, although I am working to limit the chances of it.  Altitude, exercise, sun exposure, dehydration, too much or too little food all can cause unexpected variations in blood glucose levels.  It just takes one severe low blood sugar to fall unconscious and die.  Doctors now caution against ANY lows, at any time, let alone while dangling from the end of a rope on a rock. 

So, there’s a whole extra layer of challenge to climbing as a diabetic.  I have to make sure that my blood glucose is stable before each and every climb, and especially before I tie in with a partner and hold their life in my hands.  I now have a monitor that transmits to my Apple Watch so I can read my blood sugar numbers in real time.  I have alarms that let me know immediately if I am trending high or low.  I carry redundant sugar, drinks, gels and snacks with me in my fanny pack, pockets and back packs. I carry a nasal glucagon inhaler that would revive me in an emergency. I instruct my partners how to respond to any emergency.  And for now, I limit my climbing to single-pitch routes, and approaches to one mile or less.  Perhaps in time, I’ll build the safety net so I can climb the beautiful multi-pitches in Yosemite and the Sierra.  For now, as Bob Gaines (Joshua Tree guide and writer) reminds me, I have 20,000 single pitch routes to play on, and the rest of my life to explore safe climbing to my heart’s content.  ​​

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For another article on climbing with Type 1 Diabetes from a previous edition:

• Rock Type 1 (By Susan Ramsey) - A rock-climbing family discovered their 7-year old son has type 1 diabetes. They learned to manage the disease while still engaging in rock and alpine climbing and they now share their knowledge and outdoors with others with type 1 diabetes through their non-profit Rock Type 1.