Episode 23: Si me muero, me muero
Jack used to do all the things, like surfing and jiu-jitsu. But an incomplete spinal cord injury in 2018 changed his plans indefinitely. What’s a little neck fracture at C4 and C5, right? It still hasn’t slowed him down and his accident unknowingly gave him the foundation for understanding risk and its counterpart, the consequences of rock climbing.
This episode is brought to you by deuter, Gnarly Nutrition, Allez Outdoor, Appalachian Gear Company, and Patagonia. Music by: “Southside” by Lee Rosevere, “Ichill” by Kakurenbo, “Slotcar”, Blue Highway”, “60’s Quiz Show”, “Well and Good”, “Knock Knock”, “Pives and Flarinet”, “Good Times”, “Springtime”, “Better Now”, “Skeptic”, “All Out”, “Loll”, “Downtown”, “Spokes”, and “K2” by Podington Bear, and “Last Energy For The Day” by Loyalty Freak Music.
A HUGE thank you to Chad Crouch (aka Podington Bear) for the support, and to Peter Darmi for all of his help. Cover photo courtesy of Jack Greener.
EPISODE TRANSCRIPT:
(KATHY KARLO): Hey. This is a special announcement about a film called “Stone Locals”. It just premiered on August 27th, and if you’re thinking to yourself, “Hey! That sounds like a climbing film.”—you wouldn’t be wrong, but—ok, you know how this podcast is kind of not really a climbing podcast? This film is sort of like that! It’s a film about the soul of rock climbing, and it’s told through the lens of five interwoven stories. And I bet you’re asking yourself, “What does the soul of rock climbing even look like?”
As climbing continues to grow, the people who anchor its core and community have more responsibility than ever before. In this new film, Patagonia gracefully tells the story of five of these anchors. I don’t want to tell you too much, but I—your podcast host—am one of these five stories told. You know how we’re always talking about vulnerability? Well, you can’t preach what you don’t practice. After you listen to this episode, go to the Patagonia YouTube channel and check out the full-length film “Stone Locals”. This film is brought to you by Patagonia. Not bound by convention, Patagonia’s in business to save our home planet.
- This podcast is sponsored by deuter, one of the leading backpack brands that will help you hit the trails with confidence and comfort, but most importantly–your snacks.
deuter has a history of first ascents and alpine roots. Their head of product development even climbed Everest once, in jeans (hashtag not fake news.) deuter is known for fit, comfort, and ventilation. Founded in 1898, deuter believes in good fitting backpacks, so you can focus on way cooler things like puppies, pocket bacon, and gettin’ sendy, whether at the crag or in the alpine.
– We’re working with Better Help to connect you to licensed therapists because even though my advice and opinions are free, I am improvising the whole thing. Better Help lets you message a licensed therapist, day or night. They’ll match you with the perfect therapist for a fraction of the cost of traditional therapy. You know who goes to therapy? Prince Harry. Emma Stone. Jenny Slate. Kesha.
Therapy is beautiful—everyone should go to therapy. Go to betterhelp.com/climbing to sign up and receive one free week. It helps support this show, and it helps support you.
– This podcast gets support from Gnarly Nutrition, one of the leading protein supplements that tastes “whey” better than they need to, because they use quality natural ingredients. So, whether you’re a working mom who runs circles around your kids on weekends or an unprofessional climber trying to send that 5.13 in the gym, Gnarly Nutrition has all of your recovery needs.
The only question you need to ask yourself is: Are you a sucker for anything that tastes like chocolate ice cream? (Yeah, me neither.) Gnarly Nutrition is designed to enhance your progress—and taste like a milkshake, without all the crap.
(FEMALE VOICE): Today we’re going to talk about “allez”. “Allez” means “come on!” in a way, or to encourage. Ok! We are done with the simple and normal uses of “allez”, now let’s cut to the chase:
(KATHY KARLO): Allez Outdoor Personal Care products are made by climbers for those who love the outdoors. Their rich and repairing ingredients for their skincare collection are inspired by desert landscapes, and their simple and recyclable packaging makes them eco-sustainable. Allez commits to protecting the open spaces that we love by partnering with the Access Fund and 1% for the Planet. That’s Allez Outdoor: “A-L-L-E-Z”). Allez Outdoor—made by climbers, for those who love the outdoors.
– This podcast gets support from Appalachian Mountain Gear, whose All-Paca Fleece Hoodie won the 2019 Backpacker’s Editors’ Choice Award. We’ve never actually won an award, but this one seems legit. The All-Paca Hoodie offers unmatched breathability and you can wear it for days in comfort under a pack or harness thanks to its durability and design.
This lightweight, eco-friendly fabric is the sustainable performance piece that you didn’t even know you were missing. You can take 10% off your order by using discount code “FORTHELOVEOFCLIMBING”, all capital letters (because we’re shouting…for emphasis.) Appalachian Mountain Gear stands by responsibly sourced alpaca fiber and this podcast.
- Hey, a quick heads up. This episode contains discussion about suicide.
(JACK GREENER): My name is Jack Greener. I’m from San Diego, California. I grew up surfing, spearfishing, free diving, wrestling, and doing jiu jitsu and a year and a half ago, November 2018, my neck was crushed in a sparring session by my instructor. I grew up surfing the entire coast of California and the coast of northern Baja and grew up diving the reefs off La Jolla and San Diego and the kelp beds that, unfortunately, aren’t there anymore due to climate change!
But yeah, I think from the time I was sixteen, seventeen, I was traveling internationally by myself down to Mexico and then that manifested into moving to Nicaragua in 2015 to work as a surf guide and my life prior to everything happening was just this constant “go, go, go, go!” like, “We gotta find the next adventure! We gotta get out of the country as soon as possible.” I had a job lined up to teach surf professionally at a high-end resort in Costa Rica.
And life was on a roll—I was in real estate, I was killing it in that, and I had intentions. I did my undergrad around sustainability and interface and surf tourism, so I catered my classes at San Diego state to learning about the surf tourism operations throughout Central America and stuff. And I had the intention of going down to teach surf professionally and then opening up my own international surf destination.
And, you know, the life throws you—throws you curve balls and that’s kinda how we ended up here. My prognosis, for lack of a better word at initial injury was horrible—really bad. Basically, when I got to Craig they were like, “Hey, good luck walking outta here.”
And three months later, I walked out. My life has been a perpetual, just middle finger to people that said I can’t do these things. The whole climbing community—it’s so small once you start to get to know people and coming from the jiu-jitsu community where I’d been in that for about unofficially, five years; officially just under three. The jiu-jitsu communities are so supportive and so—everyone knows somebody. I was like, “I have to get into the climbing community if I get the bodily function back.” because the communities are identical.
(KK): You’re listening to For the Love of Climbing Podcast. This is not a climbing podcast. Well, sorta. This is a funny, sad, and somewhat uncomfortable podcast about choosing vulnerability and talking openly about our pain. This podcast is sponsored by Dirtbag Climbers. Here’s the show.
(JG): My arms are paralyzed. My abs are paralyzed. My legs are paralyzed. I’m not really self-supporting here except for my skeletal system. So, you’re kinda just Jell-O. And I was intubated, I had all these strokes, I was paralyzed from the neck down. Like, it was a perfect storm and I just had it in my head. I was like, “If I’m not moving—I’m dying. And who’s going to get me the fuck out of this bed right now?”
(KK): Jack Greener isn’t just another climber based out of Colorado. Before moving to Denver, he was just your average So-Cal, sun-loving, carpe diem kinda guy, but a spinal cord injury in 2018 left him a walking quadriplegic and a stroke survivor. Jack had no idea that life would transplant him to the middle of the county where he would have to start all over, but life rarely cares about things like plans and intentions—and before 2018, Jack had a lot of those. Life was a non-stop ride and
Jack immersed himself in learning different cultures and languages and going surfing whenever he could. He was completely living that Southern California lifestyle, as he likes to put it. Jack had everything—he had jiu-jitsu, he had surfing, he was healthy and had the means to travel. He was three weeks away from finishing his undergrad, had a great job, and came from a loving home with loving parents.
(JG): Surf and jiu-jitsu kinda go hand-in-hand and it’s a very core component of Brazilian culture, as well. And I remember when I told them I was gonna go to Nicaragua in 2015 to go work as a surf guide and my mom’s like, “Is it safe? They had a civil war down there!” And, you know, she was born in the sixties so, she remembers the Contra affair and all that fun stuff. And she was like, “I don’t think you should go,” and I’m like, “I’m going! See you guys in like three and a half months.”
I left at nineteen, very egotistical, having never really traveled extensively by myself. And it was at a Brazilian-owned camp so, a total culture shock. I’d like to say I got my ego taken from a twelve down to a one and was just constantly checked.
And, you know, any sort of extreme sport in that regard will humble you on every single level and jiu jitsu was that first catalyst taking me from that twelve ego level down to a one and just being more understanding of people and realizing that we all deal with our own shit and there’s always gonna be somebody on another level compared to you—either sports-related or that can be relationship-wise or emotions. Like, we’re all trying to aspire to that next level. And that summer, living in Nicaragua was my catalyst to going from child, basically, to becoming a man.
I had complete strangers after three and a half months—Hoffa and Marcello. We were walking down the beach and we’d just finished a surf session and, you know, Hoffa was like, “You know bro, I hated you when you got here and you’ve learned so much—and you’re a man now,” and then, he turned to Marcello and Marcello was like, “Bro, you’re a man now.” And I was like, “Fuck! I’m a man now,” sorta thing. Like, I literally cried that night.
(KK): We’ve talked about the role of masculinity before, but did you know that there’s a word for the inability to express your feelings? That word is Alex— Alexa — alexithymia. Typically found in trauma survivors, it can also characterize the emotional condition of those who have “no words for feelings”. And—we get it. Some feelings are really hard to convey.
Saying “I love you” or expressing love can be culturally challenging. It can be emotional, we can’t find the right words, sometimes—it’s just plain awkward. Emotional needs are…complex. We’re complex, no matter your gender. But it’s worth remembering that whether you’re male, female, or a non-binary individual—we all have equal capacity for expressing what’s in our hearts.
(JG): I grew up with parents who were so busy with work all the time. They provided us a great life growing up, but there wasn’t that “father-son” relationship and so, to have men who I only had known for three months come to me and be like, “You’re a man now.” Like, that set me off on this whole spiritual, emotional path to growth and it was—it was beautiful.
(KK): Jiu-jitsu is a martial art consisting of grappling, but similar to rock climbing, it can also be a lifestyle. Maybe you don’t sleep out the back of your car as often, but—similar-ish. At least, in a community sense. And, like we mentioned, Jack was living that surf—jiu-jitsu lifestyle.
(JG): I started in 2015 in Nicaragua and I really got into it about 2017. And it’s just a totally different world. It’s respect, it’s camaraderie, it’s you know, you, sweat and bleed with people you don’t know and it creates this inseparable bond. And I know I can reach out to any of my friends from the jiu-jitsu community at any time and be like, “Hey, I have this going on. Can we talk about it? And it’s beautiful. It’s like, you go anywhere and if you see somebody with cauliflower ear—
(KK): Ok, first of all, if you see someone with cauliflower ear—ugh. Just kidding. And secondly, it’s probably safe to assume that they got it as a result of a direct blow to the outer ear. And so, blood fills in the space between which can disrupt normal blood flow, thus hurting the cartilage. That’s what you’re looking at, a small collection of blood that clots and blocks nutrients, or a hematoma.
Anyway, the point is, don’t pick a fight with them because that might not end so well for you? Also, did anybody ever refer to cauliflower as “ghost broccoli” when they were little? Or…last night at dinner? No, just me? Ok. Yeah, anyway. Back to Jack’s lifestyle—
(JG): At the time before I got hurt, I was training five, six days a week, open mats on the weekends, and then competing usually every three weeks. I was traveling all up and down California, at one point I was in Mexico City.
It was that lifestyle and it becomes this thing where you travel to a new city, just similar to climbing even. Like, you travel to a new city and you’re like, “What jiu-jitsu gyms can I go to today?” You know? “Who can I meet today?” and it’s just this beautiful community that is all over the world.
(KK): No, literally—Jack traveled all over the world and he trained in gyms like Costa Rica and in Thailand. His community really was a worldwide network. And like a light switch, his whole life was flipped upside down in a matter of seconds.
(JG): Yeah, so around that time, I was finishing up school. I was literally three weeks before finals at San Diego state. I was making a bunch money in real estate and I was training jiu jitsu and I would check the surf every morning. And so, that day—November twenty-ninth, 2018, I woke up and I was living in Del Mar in North County San Diego and I was like, “Hm! I’m going to go for my morning surf check.”
So, I went and got my coffee at my spot. Said, “What’s up?” to the boys, was kinda sitting out at one of my spots on the bench. And I was like, “Hm, surf’s not that good today. I think I’m gonna go back and get some work done.” So, went back and it was like ten thirty, eleven that morning. And I was like, “You know what? I haven’t been to the Del Mar Jiu Jitsu class at noon recently. So, I think I’m gonna go do that at twelve.”
And so, pack my bags around eleven thirty, throw my gear in the bag, and rock up to the gym and life is good, you know? We go through warm-ups and we’re having some rounds and going through some technique and it was about twelve thirty, and that’s when the instructor was like, “Hey, let’s do some sparring rounds,” and I was like, “Sick.”
I love sparring rounds. And being a competitor, you’re able to hold your own with higher level individuals, depending on how they’re training. And so, it basically came down to me and the instructor going round-for-round because my pace and my intensity was much higher.
So, I was with the instructor and we had done several rounds already it was about twelve forty—eight, and basically what happened was: he had my right leg in what’s called a “high single”. We’re both about 6’2”, 6’3” and my right leg was above his left shoulder. And that’s when he just picked me up all at once and then—
(makes “crack” sound”)
—dumped me. I was on my way down and I felt my neck go to the left and it was this loud crack. And the way I describe it to people is, you know what a tree sounds when it breaks in the woods? Like, that last little splinter? And it’s a big—
(makes another “crack” sound”)
That’s what it sounds when your neck breaks. And so, on the way down this happens and I kinda yell out. I’m like, “Oh, ok. No big deal. It’s a stinger.” Hit the mat and instinctively, I go to spring up and explode up—and nothing moves.
And there was this warm, flushing feeling—similar to getting into a hot tub, like, a very warm hot tub, go from my neck all the way down to my feet. And that’s when everyone kinda stopped ‘cause they heard the “crack” and I was like, “Guys, I can’t move. I can’t move.” And that’s when, you know, all hell broke loose. I will cry through it—I will cry and talk through the whole thing. So, all good.
(KK): (laughs)
(JG): Yeah.
(KK): Would you tell people what an “incomplete spinal cord injury” is exactly?
(JG): There’s two types of injuries and there’s a vast scale of how that’ll affect a person. There’s complete, which is complete severance of the spinal cord—which means you lose everything below the level of the sever.
So, if I broke my neck at C4, which is where I broke it at, and it was complete, everything below my deltoids would be gone—mostly. I may get some movement back but, for the most part, I wouldn’t be able to move or feel below that level of injury.
An incomplete injury is when you have a cervical or lumbar break, in my case—C4 and C5, and the spinal cord is damaged but it’s not severed. So, it looks like a bruise on X-rays or MRIs. And with incomplete injuries, you don’t know what’s gonna come back. It’s all kinda just up in the air. And when my accident happened, my neck was fractured at C4, C5 .
Bone fragments basically nicked the spinal cord and then also lacerated one of my vertebral arteries, which is one of the main arteries that go to your brain. And then that led to, eventually, me having several strokes the following morning. It’s not uncommon to walk, but to walk as well as I do is pretty uncommon.
So, you can be incomplete—that just means you might have a flicker in your toe, and that’s considered incomplete. Because a signal gets past the bruising or the lesion on the spinal cord. In my case, I was very incomplete. I have many friends that are very incomplete that walk to varying degrees.
The way I walk is completely different than the way my friend walks who was a similar injury as me. The way my injury would present itself on you would look completely different, and you’d have no idea how your body is going to recover or react.
(KK): The bootstrap narrative or theory is essentially a belief that if you put your head down and work really, really hard, you can lift yourself up the social and economic ladder through individual effort alone. The concept actually dates back to the early nineteenth century and initially, it implied overcoming an impossible feat. More commonly, the bootstrap theory is known as a metaphor for achieving success with no outside assistance.
And even though this theory of self-improvement has become somewhat of a pillar in American mythology, it’s a little bit of a fallacy. This theory asserts that not only do you have to succeed, but that you do it alone.
And anybody who has ever gone through anything hard, knows that their best chance to get through it is with the help of others. Jack compared the way people approach spinal cord injury to the bootstrap theory, and he talked about how he first approached his injury after the accident.
(JG): “Oh, you worked really, really hard! And if you can do it, anyone can do it,” sorta thing—and that’s not the case, right? Incomplete spinal cord injury is dumb luck—and a little bit of hard work. I always like to put it out there that way because so many people compare their injuries to other people with injuries.
And the thing I did very early on was: I would look at other people and be like, “I’m not gonna be like them.” And that’s the wrong mindset to have ‘cause it’s like, you’re siloing yourself off from empathizing and relating to people who are now in this little niche community.
And I think that hurt me early on ‘cause I was in such a shell—I was in such a fight or flight mode for the first two and half months really. And that comparison is really toxic and I dealt with most of my grief early on. I would cry for hours on end. I would scream.
You know, the first weekend I got to Englewood detoxing off of Fentanyl and Oxycodone and all those pain killers and I had my entire family there and I just cried and cried and cried for hours on end, and then it would come in waves and I’d scream and be like, “I need people to leave right now.”
But my mom throughout my recovery process, we’d talk every day at six p.m. and I would cry on the phone with her and then she’d be like, “Honey. It’s ok, it’s ok.” and then she would say, “Every single time you cry, you get a little bit stronger. And that’s how you’re gonna get through all this shit.” And yeah, that—that stuck with me. Right…
(trails off)
Every single time I would cry in therapy, I would cry privately, I would cry on the phone and I’d just acknowledge that it was like, these are my stages of grief and I’m grieving losing my body. I’m grieving losing my independence. I’m grieving losing my privacy—but it’s gonna make me that much stronger as time goes on. And I’m gonna be able to look back at those time where I was crying and screaming to my mom and family and friends and therapists and all this stuff and be like, “Damn. You’re strong as fuck now! Like, look at what you went through.” And it’s really beautiful.
It’s just a really beautiful process of understanding that it’s ok to grieve all these things you lost—and keep moving forward and acknowledge that loss, that sadness, those moments crying make you that much better of a person and help you relate to people in your situation, people not in your situation.
I wasn’t an empathetic individual at nineteen. I was too ego-centered and having gone through what I’ve gone through and dealing with paralysis and seeing other people paralyzed and seeing traumatic brain injuries and all these things—I really empathize with people now and it’s just this beautiful process of getting to that point.
This is one of my favorite subjects ‘cause I’m the “emotional man” in my friend’s group and I encourage all my friends to be this way and it’s been this beautiful transformation amongst my circle. Having emotional intelligence and awareness as a man in this day and age is as good as gold. If you can find a group of men who can openly talk about their feelings with no shame—that’s the most badass thing in the world.
(KK): What is the podcast version of “louder for the people in the back?” Do—do I just say it? I’m—I’m gonna just say it.
(JG): Yeah, it’s badass to be emotional. It’s badass to share those emotions and the sooner we learn that as a collective, the better off society is gonna be, the more empathetic we’re gonna be, the more understanding to individual plights. Because as men, we’re taught—and I was taught originally too: suck it up. Keep it in. Don’t talk about that. Let’s not go there.
And that’s counter-intuitive to who we are as humans. When we stop expressing how we feel and what’s going on in our heads—I mean, you look at a number of societal issues—it all stems from suppressing human design, human emotion. And you look at me, and I am the embodiment of masculinity. Tattooed, tall, muscular, and I could care less about crying. I will cry opening in front of anyone and everyone.
This sucks. I’m in a dark place right now. And that’s ok. And I didn’t let myself find any enjoyment in the good days because it’s such a long road and it’s still such a long road, and it was just, when I had any sort of self-doubt, that’s when I fell back on my family and my friends because you can only be there for yourself so much before that resilience wears down. And all of 2019, I had suicidal thoughts intermittently throughout the year. I think everyone experiences that and that shared human experience needs to be acknowledged.
And so, my dad, my brother and I were down for the Baja 500 and I was just so depressed. I was just in this hole and I just remember thinking to myself—I was like, “Well, what if just walked out in front of those trucks going a hundred miles an hour? What if? You know? It’d be really sad, but what do I have to lose?” sorta thing.
I would sit with those thoughts and at one point, it got so bad, I didn’t leave my basement and my house for two weeks. And I couldn’t look at my dad or my stepmom or anyone. And I think there’s such a stigma around discussing those thoughts because no one wants to appear as weak or that they’d willingly put themselves in that situation but, in some capacity, we all carry burdens. You carry a burden. I carry a burden. Everyone carries something. And things lose power once they’re out in the open.
(KK): Talking about suicide and suicide ideation are shied away from based on people’s perception of mental illness and more often than not, it isn’t addressed until it reaches a crisis point. It doesn’t always take a traumatic incident for these kinds of thoughts, and so, we can’t stress the importance of checking in with strong friends enough, because those are usually the people who carry the most and are the most afraid to speak out. But when you shine the light on shame, it does get better, which Jack soon found out.
(JG): I got a flicker back in my toe. For three nights prior, my nurse and I—she would come in and I would look at her and be like, “I really think my left toe is moving.” And every single night, she’d like lift up the covers and be like, “I’m sorry, it’s not moving.”
And then it was that fourth day and I was like, “I swear to God, my toe is fucking moving right now!” And she’s like, “Alright, fingers crossed!” and she kind of did this—looked at me and lifted the covers up and she’s like, “Oh my god! It’s moving.” And she started jumping around the room and like we were crying and stuff and celebrating—it’s like nine o’clock at night. And that’s when I got it in my head: “Alright. We’re gonna go create a miracle here.”
And so, that just became my motto every single day. And I’d meet my nurses, I’d meet my PTs and I’d be like, “Hey, you don’t know me but I’m gonna create a fucking miracle here.” and they’re like, “We hope you do.”
And that “create a miracle” became my battle cry. I wasn’t ready to die. And I have it tattooed on me, it’s like: “If I die, I die. Si me muero, me muero.” and then it’s: “Come hell or high water.” I was just so adamant on making shit happen and I think it comes from conviction, it comes from continually betting on yourself and just believing when no one else would.
(KK): Jack got a flicker, and after extensive PT and OT, he was able to walk again. But he wanted to be good at something. He didn’t just wanna walk—and what he really missed was his adventure lifestyle.
(JG): ”Wow, that’s really amazing.” No, that’s just like—who fucking cares. Like, I wanna do something gnarly. Like, I wanna do gnarly shit—and do it with a disability ‘cause no one else is doing it. So, I put that post out on Instagram and was like, “Somebody help me out.”
(KK): And people did. Jack acknowledged the fact that he would never be able to do jiu jitsu again or surf. Everything from the neck down had forever changed, but he was still looking for something that he could do regularly—that next passion he could light up and run with.
So, he consulted the internet. People responded with all kinds of recommendations: they told him to try body boarding, adaptive mountain biking, hiking, modeling, and—someone even suggested even golf? But a message from the Adaptive Coordinator for Mesa Rim Climbing Gym piqued Jack’s interest.
(JG): She messaged me. She’s like, “Hey! I’d love to get you in the gym. Like, let’s get you on some walls.” And prior to my injury, I’d climbed, you know, a few times a year at an indoor gym. I had jiu jitsu and surfing, so climbing was kinda on that radar, but it wasn’t a priority.
And so, she invited me out and I was like, “Wow. I fucking suck at this!” But in my mind, I was like, “Wow, I’m suffering. I’m not good at this. I have no idea what’s going on—I need to do this more.” You know, there’s two types of people—there’s the type of person who encounters something incredibly difficult and they’re like, “I wanna keep doing this.”
And then there’s the other type of person who encounters something incredibly difficult and they’re like, “I don’t wanna do this anymore!” I fall into that first category of like, “Wow, I suck at this. I need to be better at it.”
But I made a promise to myself. I was like, I can’t dive into climbing full-time until I get employed and focus on some more important life stuff. ‘Cause the walls, the rock—it’s all always gonna be there, but you gotta provide for yourself financially. I had to move outta my parents’ place and so, just moving forward from that July like, late August and I was like, “I think I’m ready to go travel solo again.”
And so, that’s when I booked a one-way ticket to Hanoi in Vietnam and it was tough—it was, you know, I was in a tremendous amount of pain, but I also knew that there was rock climbing out there! And I was like, “Well, even if I can go do this for the day—that’d be pretty cool.” People with quadriplegia don’t have the fortune to climb, typically.
And so, I went to Kappa and I signed up for this rock climbing like, day-long excursion and they took us to this spot to go toprope. And it just—it had me hooked. I was bleeding everywhere, my hands were all fucked up. And then I just made that decision December of 2019. Like, I’m gonna move to Denver. I’m going to start a career. I’m gonna rock climb. I’m gonna hike fucking mountains—and that’s what I’m gonna do.
(KK): And that’s what Jack did. He was a tope rope tough guy, of course—no shame. Also, shout out to Jeff—we love you. Jack was in it. He went and climbed the first Flat Iron, he climbed in Eldo, he even made an adaptive ascent of The Edge of Time, a classic 5.9 in Estes Park with his brother, who also rock climbs. And then—
(JG): I think I’m ready to like, lead something. And so, all my friends have been like, “Nah dude, I don’t think you should do that. Like, your legs don’t react the way you want them to and you slip sometimes.” But if I wanna feel like I’m a climber, I gotta lead something. I’d like to think I’ll be able to climb 5.12 at some point, but from a realistic standpoint of neurological function and strength—it’s just never gonna happen and I’ve accepted that.
Yeah my—just, both my brother and I are constantly worrying our parents—even more so now and, you know, I’ve seen my friends take falls. In the climbing community, once you kinda get to the point—you watch your friends take bigger falls and bigger falls and you’re like, “Alright. At one point are we gonna sit down and really discuss life or death situations?”— and that happened with my brother. He was like, “Dude, this chimney was—
(takes deep breath)
—if you fall, you’re dead.” and I was like, “Alright, cool. This is when we have this conversation right now.” Gear is classically replaceable right? Life isn’t. And I know Craig Demartino. I’m familiar with Quinn. I know all these people through social and stuff like that who’ve already had injuries so, I’m already hyper cognizant of the consequences.
And like I said, it’s just having those open conversations and being like, “Alright. Gear is replaceable, life isn’t—how are we going to go about getting you, and potentially me, prepared for those situations? And how do we mitigate our risks?” If you circle all the way back to my injury—I couldn’t do anything. Life happens.
But in a sport like climbing, you can mitigate quite a bit of risk. And now it’s like, “Ok, well we did the first Flattie. Why can’t we do Shark’s Tooth in Rocky Mountain? Right? Like, seems pretty doable—5.6 trad. But how do we get the skills to do that?”
(KK): Jack’s accident unknowingly gave him the foundation for understanding risk and its counterpart, the consequences of rock climbing. Having lived through spinal cord injury and rehabilitation, one of the most severe consequences of our inherently dangerous sport, Jack goes into climbing with a different perspective than most. And the way that Jack thinks, walks, problem solves, and how he perceives most things in his life will forever be different because of his accident in 2018.
What are the limits of forgiveness? Healing from trauma, whether physical or emotional, may result in forgiveness—but does it work the other way around? Can forgiveness result in healing, or does it simply cover up the wound?
The process of both healing and forgiveness look different for everyone, but by acknowledging our memories, our feelings, and what’s really happening and not pushing it away—something really cool happens.
(JG): I was in California two weeks ago and I thought I saw him walking down the street and for a moment, I had to decide between being incredibly angry or just being like, “Alright. This happened—I have to forgive this person.” And I struggle with that.
There’s days where I’m incredibly angry and this person gets to live a normal life—he’s had nothing taken away from him. He gets to teach and do what he loves to do, and I can’t surf anymore. I can’t swim anymore. I can do all these other things, right? But the things that I did before that made me who I was—I can’t do anymore in the traditional sense.
And so, it’s this ebb and flow of anger and forgiveness, and I’ve made peace with it mostly, but I think it’s only natural to be angry about it at the same time. Because I was violated in a way that I didn’t have control over. And no matter what way you spin it—that sucks.
And then, I’ll say those things out loud, acknowledge that thought and that anger—and thirty, forty minutes later I’m onto something more positive, something more productive. And this can be anyone who went through trauma and got through it and created something beautiful from it. It’s like, look at all that I lost—but look how much I gained. And that’s what beautiful about it—that’s what beautiful about creating something from loss and from trauma.
(KK): A miracle.
(JG): Yeah.
(Laughs)
That’s what—yeah, create a miracle, right?
I have an internal competition in my head with this man named Ed Jackson out of the UK. He doesn’t rock climb, but he’s already ascended quite a few large mountains and he also has quadriplegia—broke his neck, et cetera. And I have it in my head, I’m like: right now, he’s the baddest cripple in west—and I wanna take that from him, in a very friendly way.
And so, I’m constantly thinking, how do we push the envelope? I’m like, “Ok. Shark’s Tooth would be a good start—no one’s ever done that before with paralysis.” And then I’m like, “How do we get to Yosemite? That would be really rad.
And how do I leave a tiny little mark on this community? How do I go about doing that?” And we’ll figure it out—we’ll see what happens. I think where there’s a will, there’s a way, and come hell or high water—we’re gonna make it happen in some regard and it’s just a matter of how we go about doing it.
Fitz Roy would be rad. Fuckin’, an adaptive ascent of El Cap would be sick. There’s so many endless possibilities and different ways you can do a thing that I get stoked. And I’m still like, a gumby.
(laughs)
You know?
(KK): It can be difficult to pick up the phone and ask for help, but calling a PTSD hotline number is always free and confidential. If you or someone you know is dealing with a traumatic incident, consider speaking with someone about the treatment options available. If you experience suicidal thoughts during a PTSD episode and don’t know who to talk to, call the toll-free, 24-hour hotline of the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK. That’s 1-800-273-8255 to be connected to a trained counselor at a suicide crisis center nearest you.
Even though I still have no idea what I’m doing—things are happening. And if you’d like to help out and support this podcast, please check out patreon.com (that’s P-A-T-R-E-O-N) where you can sponsor us for as little as $1 per episode. It really helps keep this podcast going, and I’m so grateful for all of your help. Special shout out to Cameron MacAlpine because he makes this thing sound good.
- You’re listening to For the Love of Climbing Podcast. A huge thank you to deuter, one of the leading backpack brands that will help you hit the trails with confidence and comfort. And a big thank you to Gnarly Nutrition for supporting this podcast and the messages that we share. Gnarly Nutrition supports a community of vulnerability and equality—and tastes like a milkshake, without all the crap. A big shout out to Allez Outdoor for supporting the Access Fund and 1% for the Planet. Allez Outdoor Personal Care products are made by climbers for those who love the outdoors. And thanks to Patagonia. Not bound by convention, Patagonia is in the business to save our home planet.
Support companies who support this podcast—we couldn’t do it without them. If you liked what you heard, you can leave a review on iTunes or give us a like—like all good things, you can find us on the internet. Until next time.