At 57 and 59, my wife and I found ourselves roped up at an indoor climbing gym near our daughter’s home. It was her idea. We said yes.
The night before, we practiced rope knots with a shoelace.
The next day, Cindy smiled. I sweated.
For two weeks, we belayed, climbed, laughed, and quietly wondered,
“Wait… are we really doing this?”
Back in Toronto now, I’m training my arms, fingers—even my pinkies.
Not just for climbing, but also for badminton, where finger power really matters at higher levels.
Next goal: my first ever finger pull-up.
It may take months, but the journey has already changed us.
Turns out, muscle grows. Curiosity grows.
And joy? It climbs.
