To set the record straight, it wasn’t my idea. I just happened to be out on a morning trail run, some sheer cliffs to my left, when the cart ahead of me busted a wheel and threw the driver over the edge. Without thinking, I leapt after him. With one hand I grabbed him in midair and with the other dug my fingers into the side of the rock wall to stop our fall. He would definitely die if I let go. So, like anybody else would’ve done, I gripped him tighter. The wind pounded me against the cliff and I heard the man yell in fright. I had no fear of heights. I climbed without safety equipment all the time, but there was still a thousand feet of air between me and ker-splatting on the canyon floor. Just another day for me in Bhutan. I readjusted my hold on his arm and gently tossed him the twenty or so feet back to the top. To any normal person that may have seemed amazing. But I wasn’t normal. I heard gravel crunch as the man scrambled away from the edge and back to his family. One of the rocks I held crumbled and I slid farther down the cliff.
