It’s raining. I walked a mile in her shoes, but got so exhausted I turned back to the life and comfort that I know. The terror of the unknown, the uncertainty; they held me back and I decided not to take the leap, but instead I wrapped a blanket of the mundane and monotonous around my shoulders. There is so much warmth in the routine, warmth that is welcoming and knows my name. It is this warmth that scorches and suffocates my dreams of something different and exciting. How was I to know that I had it all wrong? Contrary to popular belief, it is not the fear of failing that crawls under my skin, but the fear of success; the stench itself sends me running, ducking for cover. As I lay under a rock, muted, with almost no thoughts of my own, reality quickly jabs me in the ribs, gut wrenching as it is, I crawl, slowly find my way up, and begin the trek of walking a mile in my own shoes all over again, this time the path of uncertainty beckoning. The road ahead is not paved, doubt and reluctance plague the limits of my talents and deem my gestures apprehensive. In my mind a broken phrase: ” there is no try, only do,” and so despite the cynicism that barricades success, I walk on, this time five miles and the next time 10 miles, my stride will not break, and this will eventually bring dawn to a warmth that only my dreams thus far have known.