I have a fear of heights. What’s strange is this wasn’t always so. I remember on one ordinary day, I looked down from the top of a boulder that I scaled in Lake Tahoe; it was the first time that I ever visibly shook from fear. I was shocked by my own reaction because until that moment, I had no idea that this fear of heights existed.
It was such a gorgeous day in San Francisco, no wind, no fog, just sunshine. I was on an adventure just 60 miles from my home. Although close, the city still felt like a different world. I loved these days; I’d hang out in the Marina usually at a bar with an upside down pig as its logo. All the twenty and thirty somethings, career bound and city struck, would crowd around the wood and glass. I’d sit there with my strawberry ambrosia, watching the people around me, writing in my journal and catching bits of conversations that whirled about the room.