January 29th 2015
Today I realised I am not fearless. I’ve always thought of myself that way, as being fearless. I’m not scared of spiders or snakes or big dogs or heights or the dark or confined spaces. I had no discernible fear of anything. Which made me think I was fearless.
But today, as I’m stood at the top of a black slope (if you don’t ski, that effectively means “fucking steep”) I found myself unable to move.
I was too scared to go down it. And I don’t even know about what I was scared. It wasn’t the height. It wasn’t falling over, I can get back up. It wasn’t getting hurt, bones heal. I don’t know what it was that was stopping me. But I was stopped. I was scared.
I felt incapable. Like I couldn’t do it. And that’s an awful feeling, and one I’m not used to. I’m not used to being scared.
For the rest of the day I crawled down every slope I came across. All the improvement I’d made in the last four days was gone. I’d hit a hurdle that sent me right back to the start of the race. I don’t know what tomorrow will be like.
Until tomorrow, don’t be afraid.