Over the years I seem to have become strangely fascinated with living life on the edge. I am mesmermized by just how close I can get without actually falling over. Inch by inch I move close. One more step close to what may become the ultimate death. I’ve never been one to live life on the “safe” side, so to speak. Even as a child, I was climbing trees with the boys always seeing who could climb the highest, one time even climbing a cell tower near my house. I remember it like it was yesterday. Draping a sweatshirt over the barbed wire that was traced along the top of a chain-link enclosure to be careful not to get cut, firmly gripping the steel ladder with both hands and lifting my shaking leg to place my foot on the first rung. I never looked down, but more importantly to my pride, never backed down. Once near the top of the ladder i felt myself shaking so much, perhaps from adrenaline, maybe from fear, that the ladder itself began cranking and rattling against the cold steel of the tower. I recollected myself and pushed on. Rung after rung, step after step, I had made it to the top.
Tackling physical challenges was never the problem for me. No irrational fears of heights, snakes, spiders, etc…It was the mental that got me everytime. The battle between me and myself. Seems I haven’t won that one yet. Perhaps I never will