This is The Shorts, and you're listening to The Dirt Bag Barry's.

Man, he has a really big head. That's all I can think I want to see, Chris Sharma.

Don't get me wrong, he's humble and friendly, but he also has a lot of cranium on his big

frame, and out of all the thoughts I could be having, this happens to be it.

I've been invited to climb in the Citizen Open Comp tomorrow, in all the rambling daydreams

of a climber. I never imagined I'd be here climbing at the qualifier for the first ever

US World Cup in Vale, Colorado. I'd never imagined I would compete in front of thousands,

much less Chris Sharma.

Next morning, I tried to sort out my head over a strong cup of coffee. I'm a basket case.

I never expected to do well, but with all these people watching, I'm worried about making

a total fool of myself.

My friend Ronnie, who has also come here to climb, and I go early to check out the wall.

At 20 feet tall, the bouldering wall is tall and steep, with no texture. The holds

range from the tiniest to the massive, but none of them are easy to hang onto. I imagine

the jolt, and if I top out a problem and drop onto the pads, each fall would feel like

a stab that runs up my back, and jolts into my spine, bone, grinds against bone. It always

lasts for about a minute or so, but the next day is when it really hurts. My ankle and

heel throbbed from dropping on them over, and over.

Drugs fight the pain and swelling in the surgically fused back, but all they really do is take

the edge off the barking dog. I was already sore. Things were not looking promising for

the one-legged climber.

When I climb, most people don't even notice my prosthetic. Don't notice it much, I should

...