I can remember being afraid of heights as a kid. When I would climb trees and look down I got that woozy feeling in my belly. For some odd reason, this fear seems to have escaped me as I've gotten older. In Australia when we were in the Blue Mountains (sort of like their equivalent of the Grand Canyon but not as impressive) I got really close to the edge and freaked my family out. I didn't share their fear that one misstep would send me over the edge but I think I've scarred my Mom for life. At the lake when we climb the various peaks in the area, I get friendly reminders from her not to get too close to the edge!
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| Above the clouds in the Blue Mountains |
With that being said, this week Francine, Marissa, and I went to UREC to do the rock wall. After putting on some very stinky climbing shoes that were a half size too small, signing all responsibility of injury or death away, and getting harnessed up, we were ready to climb. I felt all nervous, the wall suddenly looked gigantic, and of course there had to be a climbing class taking place to witness our attempts.
The brave one who went first:
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| Fran you did it! |
The champ who climbed with a "broken" thumb:
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| Marissa scaling the wall! |
The one with the definite height advantage:
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| Look I made it! |
My main fear was that I wouldn't make it to the top. Having climbed before I trust in the rope if you slip or let go. Well I made it to the top twice and afterwards my hands were so sweaty and my arms were aching. It felt like a real workout even though the actual time climbing was pretty short. Maybe the best news of all: still no apparent fear of heights!
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