Here is my experience with trying to combine climbing with the office,
and it is, unfortunately, entirely true.  Take from it what you will.
I wrote this a couple of weeks back trying to cheer up my younger
brother who is about to graduate from high school and has no idea
where he wants to go to school or major in, doesn't want to give up
his current friends and hobbies, not because I was trying to record
this as an actual achievement.

THE STALL

In the four years since I have graduated college I have done traveled
around a bit, and now as I wait for grad schools to reply to my
applications, I am sort of in the same boat as you.  "What the hell am
I doing with my life, do I want to stay in this career, do I really
want to go back to school, do I look fat in these pants?"

Well, no matter what you chose to do professionally/academically, you
will make time to do the personal things you really want to if they
are important enough to you, even if the timing/place is
inappropriate.  Exhibit A: TR of the Fourth floor bathroom far end
stall.

After beginning my job here with *A Financial Services Company* three
years back, I found that I was spending most of my time trying to find
new ways to avoid actually doing work.  The old tried and true methods
never fail, and majority of my non-working at work hours were spent in
the can, reading the paper, napping, organizing my wallet, etc.  One
day while not going potty while sitting on the potty I realized that
the double industrial roll toilet paper holder would make a pretty
good sloper when gripped in the right fashion.  Looking around the
stall, I realized that this one had a unique feature compared to the
others: The toilet seat cover dispenser is on the tile wall opposite
the paper holder, not behind the can like the other 7 on my floor
(really, I have amassed a lot of time in them).  Peering behind me, I
noticed the reason for this anomaly was a metallic door located in the
place where the cover dispenser should be, but I did not think to
investigate the purpose for this door.  Instead, I gripped the sloper,
crimped the cover, placed my wingtips on two bolt heads, and managed
to levitate myself a couple of inches off the throne.

My mind raced:  I knew that I could now easily combine my two favorite
hobbies: Not working at work and climbing.  I spent the next several
weeks planning a route: toe jams and finger locks in the gaps between
the stall divider hardware, edging on bolt heads, smears off opposing
walls.  My goal became clear: to complete a "lap" of the stall by
turning 360 degrees and re-depositing myself on the depository.

The challenges facing this task were many.  Work picked up and I had
less time to not work.  My office went from suits to casual, and I had
trouble locating casual shoes that edged as well as my leather soled
wing-tips.  I dislocated my finger, became engaged, got married, got
promoted, etc.

The dangers of this route were greater.  Quickly after starting this I
found out the hard way my biggest obstacle was other co-workers.  The
first time I was "walked in on," I was mid way through the route,
doing a no-hands stem on two opposing walls.  The individual came in
and took a seat in the far stall.  I was pretty hosed.  I didn't know
how to dismount from my position without causing a ruckus.  I couldn't
reach the handle to flush the toilet to create some noise.  My legs
started to elvis as lactic acid build-up began, I started to sweat,
and un-intentionally, I began to emit a strained grunt from the
exhaustion.  As the time slowly passed by (20 seconds?), the grunt
grew louder until I heard the other individual start to paper up,
flush and quickly exit the john.  I guess my grunt became a little
louder than I thought.

My two biggest close calls happened on subsequent events, and made be
put the project on an indefinite hold.  On my first attempt of that
day I felt good.  Fresh, limber, full of life.  I began the route,
levitating, then toe jams, fingers locks, big stem, started to make
the turn around the back of the toilet (crux of the route).  My foot
slipped off of my tile smear, I blew the over the stall jug, nearly
put my foot in the toilet, and put my head squarely into the mystery
metallic door on the wall behind the can.  The door swung open into
the wall (not into the stall) and for a brief moment, my head stuck
halfway into a new mystery shaft that the mystery door had previously
concealed.  My head would have remained longer, but I noticed a very
large object coming up to me. I yelled "crap" and pulled my head out
of the shaft as the back side of an elevator car pulled up, stopped,
then continued up again.  Fortunately the metallic door had laid flush
with the wall completely open.  I pulled it shut, cleaned myself up,
and went back to work with a large red mark on my forehead.

Later that day, after the embarrassment subsided, I gave it another
shot.  I moved tenuously past the tile foot smear, came around the
corner, and nearly completed my project when tragedy stuck.  I tried
positioning my rear-end over the commode, but was "off center" a
little bit.  I moved over to my left and weighted the toilet seat
cover dispenser I was crimping with the majority of my mass.  The
plastic dispenser gave under my load, and ripped from the wall.  Now I
had actually been placing a seat cover down as I worked the project,
as it was a "sit start" and I couldn't work it with my pants around my
ankles.  I shot my foot down to catch myself, and my foot landed on
the seat.  Actually, it landed on the cover, which slid off the seat.
In doing so, my toe found that gap in the front of the seat, and I
managed to roll my ankle.  I continued down, trying to keep from
landing in the toilet, I straitened my arms out.  I landed on my
knees, arms on the floor, with my head about 3 inches from smacking
the seat.  I once again cleaned my self up, tried to restore the cover
dispenser to its original state (unsuccessfully), and limped back to
my desk with a bum ankle, bruised knees, a red forehead (still), and
no pride.  I didn't use that stall again for another year.

Two days after Susan and I learned we were expecting, I found myself
sitting in that same stall, contemplating life.  "Will I ever have
time to go climbing again, will Susan let me go climbing, will the kid
like me enough to climb with me?"  This was the first time I had used
it since the "fall."  I guess you return to your comfort places when
you need.  I took in the scene in the stall: the plastic cover
dispenser had been replaced by a nice new metal one.  Thinking it was
a message, I sent the problem, almost in perfect form.  I rate it a V
negative 2, and have named it "the stall."

You'll keep doing what you want to do, if you want to do it.  You'll
keep your friends if you want to.  Just look for the signs, they'll
help you find your way.