He asked me where I was planning to go
to accomplish the climbing route.

He beamed, called me sweetly simple. 
I’d snapped at him, “Up.”

I don’t remember why I was mad at him that week
or what exact pain I felt like taking out on someone else.

I just remember that plotting paths was almost as overwhelming 
to middle school athletes

as it is to business women 
approaching menopause.

I remember how internal motivation moved me 
more than competitions, and how

lacking a supportive team 
was more paralyzing than fear.

Most, I remember pushing myself off balance,

standing on the lone rock, devoid of all hand holds,
and stretching, ringing the final bell, at the certainty

of the coach, who I knew could tell the difference between
my strengths, my stress tears, my fear shakes, and my

just slacking and mouthing off, full well.