So, I fell. Slipped, slid, scraped. Fell. A little skin from the elbow. A little more from my leg. And a lot more from my back.
And then I leapt to my feet, said “oh well,” and ran down (really down) the trail to catch up with my family. So, I learned:
- There’s not too much that I’m scared to try. The list of what I think I can’t do is even shorter.
- Even if I fall and get injured, I’ll do it again. I fell on the first climb and totally would have missed out on something incredible if I didn’t make the fourth climb.
- That side-step thing I do to get up rocks quickly without thinking about it? I learned it from my father.
- My father has a better grasp of limitations than I do. “Now, don’t get crazy” is what he said to me. Someday, I’ll learn that.
- I finally understood how biblical prophets felt listening to the wind blow through a canyon. Quite possibly one of the most amazing sounds I’ve ever heard.