When I was eleven I finally dove off the highdive. Well, okay, not dove – jumped. I wasn’t brave enough to dive. The mechanics of going headlong into the abyss confounded me.
I avoided the highdive for six summers before mustering the gumption to climb that ladder. It was a trembling ascent, and the trepidation followed me to the edge of the board, where I stood—teeth chattering—unwilling to chance a glance down. I looked back. A line of kids waited anxiously at my back. Finally, I held my breath, closed my eyes, and jumped.