On another meetup in Wisconsin, my mom and I hiked a trail that led to a waterfall. The trail crisscrossed a river a few times, which led us to snake across by stepping on precariously balanced stones protruding from the water. I made it to the end, and as I turned to start the trek back, I slipped on a wet rock. When I fell, my face hit another rock, busting the skin near my eyebrow. Another hiker happened to see the fall and was luckily carrying a bandage. My mom did a good job of matching up both sides of the cut so that it healed fairly smoothly. I guess that’s when you know you’ve had a real adventure: when you have the scars to prove it.
The worst part was that the waterfall was about two and a half feet tall and not worth the drama.
Nowadays, I select shoes based heavily on the non-slip quality of their soles. Also, in times of stress, it helps to frame whatever I’m experiencing as an adventure.