Climbing Ladders, Scaling Mountains

I'm afraid of heights. I feel the fear in every bone of my body. But today I climbed a ladder outside in my backyard. And I've gone hiking in the mountains for many years. Indeed I even climbed "The Precipice" in Maine, and that hike was the closest I've ever come to rock climbing.

Why do I persist to engage in activities that frighten me? I think that - in equal measure to my fear - I'm very curious as to how my escapade will end. Will I succeed or not? And I want to be there to find out.

Because the alternative to being at the finish line is to not even enter the race. And, worse than failing as far as I'm concerned, is not trying at all.

So I fight my fears and doubts and forge ahead.

I climbed to the second-most top rung of the ladder today. I reached up to the tree branch and grabbed the apple before it fell. It was delicious.