Precious Cargo

The Warrior Dash was not my best mud run. I skipped two obstacles because of my paralyzing fear of heights, got disoriented, and ended up alone for the majority of the distance, separated from a caravan of friends who were there on the course - somewhere. Finally reunited with one of these friends, I attempted to climb an obstacle - a cargo net. It wasn't terribly high, but to me, it was terrifying. I relied heavily on KC's words of encouragement to get over it, fighting the urge to backtrack and go around. I managed to conquer the obstacle, but not the fear...

The first time I tried to climb the cargo net at the gym, I only got halfway up. I hugged the ropes the entire time and moved very slowly. When I got back on the ground I was shaking uncontrollably. I felt silly celebrating my victory because it seemed like a small one and I wasn't sure if M&M, who was holding it steady for me, truly understood the intensity of my fear.

The first time I reached the top, I paused, afraid to go back down but at the same time very eager to get to the ground. It was an amazing feeling to know I had done it, but, just because I overcame the fear that day, it did not mean I had conquered it. It's been six weeks since I first decided to climb that net, and I kept climbing before every class.

In week three, I was almost to the top, which had started to get easier for me. I caught sight of Drill across the room on the second floor/balcony area of the gym. I froze. I clung to the rope for dear life. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't climb up - or down. It was a new perspective for me of how high I was climbing. On the net it made me realize how far I had to fall - I was eye level with the second floor!

Once I had my feet back on the ground, it made me realize how far I had come. Scary as it was, I tried again the next class, clinging to the rope with my arms, my legs, and my will.

In week four, I noticed the bruises on the back of my arms. Bruises from bracing myself on the ropes with my arms while gripping tightly with my hands. Nice big, fat, fear-shaped bruises that looked like someone had been shaking me senseless. Bruises from not trusting myself, not trusting my strength, and not trusting my abilities. I kept climbing.

Monday, my husband was there for visitor's week and I wanted to show him what I could do. I proudly did my slow-and-steady, full-body climb to the top and careful, clingy descent to the ground. Then he decided to climb.

He scaled that rope like it was nothing, reached the top, then took it farther than I would ever dare. He leaned over the top, reached his hands down the other side, and flipped forward! M&M and I gasped as we watched him lose his grip and fall all the way to the mat. We looked at each other in shock for a brief second until that man of mine jumped up and exclaimed, "that was AWESOME!"

Wednesday I begged my husband not to do that stunt again. Then I climbed, faster than I ever had before. He and I were both impressed. There was less clinging and hugging the ropes and more hands and feet climbing. It became clear that his fall was actually good for me. If I fell, the mat would catch me. If I fell, I could get back up again. Unintentionally, my husband took away the last of my fear of that net.

I know that because today, there was not a second of clinging or a second of hesitation. My hands and feet did all the work, both climbing up and climbing down. In six weeks, I faced my fear of heights, stared it down, and emerged victorious!