COROS WEARABLES

As a novice climber, I learned to use ropes and climbing gear to get up improbable precipices. In the beginning, fear lurked around every corner, as I confronted thin holds, greasy feet, and the difficult learning curve of placing gear. In an instant, my hands dripped with sweat, my heart racing as visions of plummeting to my doom took hold. Over time, I got more comfortable with heights, and slowly toed the waters of scrambling in the flatirons. The constant angle and feldspar-rich fountain formations jut out of the ground, cutting across the Boulder skyline and visible from every part of town. These rocks won me over; after traveling all over the world and touching a profuse variety of rock, the Boulder sandstone reigns king over many in my mind.

The aesthetics and rock quality are just the start; more powerful are the friendships and community forged on these steep faces. Most mornings, in the early dawn before work and life, you can find small groups of friends lacing up their running shoes, resoled with sticky dot rubber for this niche pursuit. These friends are born of a race that doesn’t fit in a box, blessed with a heart that calls for roaming. Considered by runners to be climbers, but considered by climbers to be runners, they are a paradox. The people forge bonds of community purely centered on the perfect 50 degree dip of the boulder sandstone. They term the activity, “Scrambling.” With an angle any steeper, the Flatirons would make a rope mandatory, but an angle any less and the whole world would flock to every summit. The community built in the Boulder Flatirons is something so rare that there may be nothing like it anywhere else in the world - I am thankful for the blessing of geographical proximity and an entree into this bizarre world. High on the summit ridgelines and thin faces, fear still lingers in my mind, but the adrenaline that used to lurk now only shows itself in rare moments of indecision or doubt.

A warning must be heeded when contemplating adopting the lifestyle of a scrambler; onlookers often stand at the bottom of the great faces of sandstone, tempted to try their hand at climbing to the top. Temptation sometimes gives way to action and these tourists find themselves scared and stranded; if they’re unlucky, even worse. I am an advocate for the admiration of the scramblers of Boulder, but also hold the opinion that climbing is best done while roped. Life is composed of our experiences, and enriched by our connections. Genuine expression is the most beautiful thing we have as humans, and I am happy to have found my own in the semi-vertical world of Boulder, Colorado.