When I’m in Rifle, all I want to do is climb. From the moment I wake up, I’m ready to take off and jump on the warm-up routes. I sleep with the guide book next to my pillow. On a sheet of scratch paper sticking out of the book is the list of routes I carefully chose the night before. I’m still a bit impatient, like a kid at Disneyland, but I’m working on it. As the sun creeps over my van, I get out and walk around and pace around my climbing partner’s car, who is usually still fast asleep. I might even bump into his car a few times to get the ball rolling.
"Hello. My name is Kim and I'm a perfectionist." I don't know for sure how I became one. I'm guessing it had something to do with my childhood. There might be a sad little league story there. For whatever reason, since I was very young I remember trying very hard to be perfect at whatever I was doing. In school, I had to get straight A's, 100%'s on tests, be the fastest runner - I am an over-achiever, so… what's the problem?
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