Christie Blackmon grew up in northeast Ohio. She studied marketing and psychology at Kent State University and started climbing in her twenties. Her new passion led her to travel throughout the US, Mexico, Thailand and Spain and eventually settle in Colorado, where we met. Though there have been stretches in our lives without seeing each other, last summer we spent a lot of time together in Grand Junction. Training at the gym was merely an excuse to talk for hours about all the things and with no filters. Christie feels like an older sister to me. I admire her, the life she has created with her family, the way she approaches climbing, how she treats her daughter Marissa and her relationship with her sweet husband, Michael. Christie sent the Path (5.13c in Rifle Canyon) at age 44, one year after giving birth to Marissa. At the time this was her hardest route. Then, at age 48, she did Magnatar and Tomb Raider, also in Rifle, both 5.13ds. Her family has spent a lot of time in Spain where we got to climb with them and also meet her incredible mom, Joni. Sadly, she passed away not too long ago, but thankfully within the comfort of Christie’s own home. It took time for Christie to be ready to speak about her mom’s death on my podcast. And when she was, she said: “I thought about what my mom would say, and she would have told me to do it”. Christie and I talk about things that probably most of us try not to think about: aging, death and losing a loved one. Topics that occupy many of our minds (whether consciously or not) but are hard, scary, yet inevitable. My dad is turning 80 this year. He is strong, his mind fresh, young at heart and his memory incredible. But the fact is, he is getting older. My parents make jokes about how they are the ‘next ones on the line’. I get upset when they talk like that. But I guess for them it’s one way of dealing with the fact that they have lost a lot of friends their age and younger. Sometimes, it can feel as though death is just around the corner, waiting to take them away from me. Each time I get to see them is becoming more and more precious. I don’t think anyone can prepare us for the moment we have to let go of someone we love so deeply. But sharing our stories helps us remember that we are not alone. No one is exempt from losing someone close. And though we will always miss them, with time, the pain becomes less.
