10 feet above the bolt and pumped to my limits, only two outcomes could possibly manifest in the next few moments: either I’d stick the move or I would fall. Swallowing reality, I inhaled, drawing in the last draws of my energy to throw my body towards the sloper far above me. Feet cutting, core engaging, I reached upwards, feeling a split second of friction between my fingers and the rock. But alas! The rock rejected my body’s movement and my muscles let go. For the first time in my life, I entered the midair magic and splendor of whipper freedom; a full submission to gravity and a lasting lesson in humility.
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