Facing your fears: Standing on the Edge

I am not a thrill-seeker. My idea of an exhilarating adventure is a sale at Anthropologie. (Really, is there anything better than the adrenaline rush of finding that perfect dress at 60 percent off?)

I have never driven the go-carts at Boondocks (they look like miniature death traps to me), and I had a panic attack the last time I rode a roller coaster. I have never been to Water World; I’ve been too self-conscious to wear a swimsuit in public for the last 15 years, I’ve even developed my own elaborate code of conduct to ensure I am never eaten, nor “tasted,” by a shark. First rule: do not enter any body of water in which sharks are known to reside.

However, while enjoying chicken nachos and a couple of Firehouse Ales at the Walnut Brewery the other day, my husband reminded me of a statement I made on my 35th birthday almost two years ago: “I want to live the next 35 years of my life as much out of my head as I lived the first 35 in it.”

I had forgotten about this statement. But as soon as he said it, I remembered — and remembered the experience that had prompted it.

My office had arranged a team-building self-defense class at the Krav Maga Worldwide Regional Training Center in Broomfield. I went into it not expecting much. In fact, I didn’t even wear workout clothes that day. I figured we’d learn to scream “rape” at the top of our lungs and kick someone in the “gentleman’s region.”

I was wrong. The instructor put us through a rigorous hour-long workout that was more intense than anything I had ever experienced. We learned punches, hammer fists and choke defenses. I was hooked from the moment they presented me with the tombstone shield and told me to hit it as hard and fast as I could.

I called my husband immediately after the class and (allegedly) panted breathlessly into the phone, “I’m covered in sweat and Carol punched me in the face. It was great!”

I signed up for a membership a few weeks later. Doing so was a big deal for me. I’ve never been athletic. I never played sports outside of what was required for phys ed (I was that kid in the corner chosen last when picking teams, but I’d have been your first choice for a lab partner). I’ve always felt awkward and uncoordinated, even painfully self-conscious.

Taking up Krav Maga was the first step I’ve ever taken to change that. I stuck with it and have seen changes I wouldn’t have believed possible. Yes, I’m a lot stronger physically than I’ve ever been before. But I’ve also discovered coordination I didn’t know I had. Even, dare I say, a little bit of grace. I now own a dozen sports bras and six pairs of athletic shoes, boxing gloves in two different weights, grappling gloves, shin pads, a sparring helmet, my own heavy bag, and a self-confidence I’ve never had before.

It was that first lesson that spurred my statement to my husband on my 35th birthday. I’ve continued with Krav Maga, even passing my yellow belt test last September, but I haven’t pushed myself any further. I suppose I could say, “life got in the way,” as it so often seems to do (or more like “the couch got in the way,” as my butt seems to be once again be frequently attached to it).

But as my 37th birthday approaches , I want something more. I want to face my fears, my inhibitions and my self-doubt and try all the things I’ve ever dreamed of doing. Maybe even some I haven’t. When I die, at the ripe old age of 250, I don’t want to lament to myself, “Why didn’t I take that belly dancing class?”

So I’m going to do it. From this point forward, I’m going to live more in the world and less in my head. If this means placing myself in uncomfortable situations over and over again, bring it on! Maybe I’ll discover talents I didn’t know I have and persistence I never imagined. Maybe I’ll fail spectacularly.

Either way, I know I’ll be living — really and truly living — without anything standing in my way.

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