Why I’m Afraid of Heights

We ran along the highway, which had been closed off for this race. My body screamed to rest, but I kept going. It was a long race. Our sweaty bodies were far too close for my liking.

The highway kept going up and up. Finally at the end, the highway just stopped. We all ran up to the edge, and peered down. It was a cliff. Several several kilometers down, a pool said to be a hundred by a hundred meters large appeared as a tiny speck below us. I’m glad I’m not afraid of heights. An occasional cloud lingered in the air below us, and I briefly wondered how we getting oxygen so high up.

A more pressing matter though, was that we had to jump into the pool. The wind was strong, and some people tried jumping into the pool. I didn’t watch them.

I wandered far off to the left. The pool wasn’t directly below me, but for some reason, I knew that if I jumped off here, I could make it into the pool.

And I jumped.

After a few minutes of falling, with the air rushing past my ears shouting like a whiny grandmother, I hit the pool. The cool water greeted my hot and tired body, and filled me with energy.

Then I sunk.

“Oh no!” I thought. I didn’t know how to swim. Well this sucks. As I drowned, I vowed to be afraid of heights.

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