Before I start talking about my wild adventure today, let me make one thing clear: I don't like bugs, excess sun, skinned knees, getting dirty, and wild animals. Now, don't get me wrong. Mother Nature has a lot to offer. I'd just rather see it on Animal Planet on my couch where I'm safe inside. It's not like you can get a horrible case of poison ivy inside your own house. To make things clear, I'm not an outdoorsy person.
    At least, I didn't used to be.
    Then I went fly-fishing in the middle of Colorado. All the sudden, I was the one wearing the hip-high waders, splashing in to snatch the fish someone had caught, and expertly removing the hook from its gullet with a pair of tweezers. 
    So now I can officially say that I like the outdoors, but would rather stay in side writing, say, poetry, or blogging. Maybe that's why I wasn't exactly excited to go to the White Water Center. It might have to do with my habit of creating a schedule that I'd rather have not interrupted, and getting a little ticked when it does. But hey, what can you do?
    Upon going to the White Water Center, I made a beeline toward the rock climbing. This was a little different than usual, though. Instead of having hands-on belayers (the people who hang on to the rope and make sure you don't fall to your death) there were auto-belayers, which basically meant that except for a piece of rope and metal that was gonna keep me alive. 
    When I reached the top, I looked down and freaked out. "Ohmigod," I said. "I didn't know it was so far down." I held onto the wall, trying desperately not to think of the fact that I eventually had to jump. Finally, I swallowed, put my big-girl pants on and let go of the wall with a high pitched shriek. I plummeted, and I honestly thought I was going to get an early trip to the after life.
    Of course, the auto belay did its job, taking any and all drama out of the situation. The story ends with me landing on the ground safely with no trouble. I know, I know. Boring. But things get better, just hang on to me for a minute here.
    Next we went to the zipline. Now, let me explain something. Heights make me a little uneasy, as do a lot of things in life. So hanging on to a cable with only a safety harness wasn't exactly my thing. I'll save you the long story of my nervous breakdown, but let's just say that by the end, I was hyperventalating and silently hoping the machine would have to malfunction so I didn't go.
    "Now," the zipline guy said in a heavy accent, "You ah not ta do any backfleepz, cannonballz, or anytheeng dangeerouz or like ze stunts zey do in ze circus." He then strapped me on and cocked and eyebrow, waiting for some form of a response.
    I was finally able to gasp out, "I...I...I wouldn't....I wouldn't dream...I wouldn't dream of" I started shaking as he explained what position I had to stay in so I wouldn't fall out of the harness. Finally, he pushed me forward and I was off. As miracle would have it, I didn't freak out as badly as I thought, and only muttered a few choice swearwords under my breath to show my discomfort.
    After surviving the zipline, I moved on to the actual white water rafting. "Fun" was an understatement. Maybe words like wild, awesome, even radical would describe it better. I made sounds that no one had ever heard me made, such as "Whooooooohooooo!" and "Yipeeee!" To say that I was out of character was perfectly accurate.
    During the 90 minutes I was white water rafting, I never fell off once, which I would say is a miracle, because falling off a raft seems like something I would almost certaintly do. But hey, maybe I have some hope in this sport after all!
    Who knew one day could have so much fun?
PS: I know this is a kind of horrible blog post as far as they go. I'm still suffering a bit from writers block, and it just isn't coming out right. But I had nothing else to write about, so please bear with me. Maybe one day I

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