Frankly, this is not the right moment for reflection. For multiple reasons. Mainly because it might not be the best idea to quit now that I’m halfway through this climb. Stopping now would mean immediate and massive loss of face. Not that my continued effort will necessarily bring a substantial achievement. I will be there. On the top. Purely in a physical sense, and that may or may not translate into something more than a simple change in the whereabouts of my body. To begin with, I don’t have the slightest idea what’s over the wall. Is it worth the climb at all? In any case, once I’m up there, I’ll start climbing down again. So what’s the point? Exercise? I could get exercise in many other ways that are more fun and include less risk of snapping a vertebra and severing my spinal cord on an otherwise uneventful Saturday afternoon. I’d love a less vertical wall. Or one that’s actually horizontal. You could burn exactly the same amount of calories, but you’d have to climb longer. Or crawl. Not that sexy though. With every inch I elevate myself, I realise more and more how bad my fear of heights is. And it’s not getting better. The thing is, I only noticed that heights scare me when I was already higher up than many other climbers. Again, saving face played a not negligible part in my decision to continue climbing. I better be close to the top by now. I have precious little energy left. Even staying still requires continual contraction of muscles. No rest. I feel that I am one with this wall.