The first time I ever went snow skiing was at a place called Pine Knob in Southeast Michigan.
Being a flatlander from Texas, it was a strange "fish-out-of-water" experience for a 14-year-old. After acclimating somewhat on the bunny slopes, I got enough nerve up to ride the chairlift to what seemed at the time to be the top of the world.
Great skiers would laugh at anything Pine Knob could throw at them. But for a complete amateur, it was daunting.
At the chairlift drop at the top of the "mountain" skiers mostly would turn left. To the right was a very narrow turn that bordered the most vertical run at the park.
This drop seemed to me to be the equivalent of skydiving. It's probably not much of a drop at all. But at that time, it was white-knuckle terrifying.
I got off the chairlift and turned right. The precipice was so close. I peered over the edge at certain death. Well, certain embarrassment for sure. I was so scared and realized I was too afraid to try it.
And that's what's pissing me off today.
I need to take more chances. I need to do more things that are scary. Especially with my writing. I've got some great ideas, but they are notes without the rug to tie the room together.
Wish me luck.