I Promise to Do My Best
It’s not worth doing unless I’m scared — really and truly terrified
I was three years old when I learned a truth that has never steered me wrong. Whatever choice I face, it’s always gone better for me when I take the path that scares me most.
My tricycle was shiny new, bright red promise of adventure. We lived on top of a mountain. Every day, I sped up and down that quiet suburban sidewalk, getting off to push my bike up the steepest part.
I sat on my tricycle. I clutched the thick, pristine white handlebar grips. The seat was firm and comfortable and the foot pedals were just right.
The choice was clear: get off and push my bike up the steepest part OR ride it all the way up and conquer the sidewalk.
The first section was tough going, but I kept at it, thrilling at riding like the big kids did. Later, the sidewalk pavers pitched upward. I felt like I was climbing a rock wall on a bike. Soon it felt impossible to stay on the bike, keep going forward, and not roll backward.
I knew I could get off anytime, but I refused. Even as my muscles howled and my vision blurred, I would not give up. Finally, reaching the summit, I rolled into our driveway. Shaky-legged, I stumbled off my tricycle in sweaty, panting triumph.
