“What did I get myself into?” That was the question on my mind, as I was buckled and strapped into a harness that would soon send me propelling through the air at 50 miles per hour, 600 feet above ground.

The idea to go zip lining in honor of my 12-year wedding anniversary was completely and entirely my suggestion, (Again, what was I thinking?) so I couldn’t even get mad at my husband for this one.

To me, 12 years seemed like a big number, one that needed to be marked by something a bit more special than our usual “dinner and a movie” dates. So, just to prove to my husband that I had a bit of “edge” in me, I suggested zip lining as a way to celebrate the occasion. My husband (unfortunately) did not hesitate in saying yes.

The plan was to sign up for the basic adventure level course that older folks and small kids can participate in. The trip would be enjoyable and leisurely. But to my dismay, my husband booked our tour himself, and opted for the higher level (I suppose I could get mad at him for that). I panicked as soon as he told me—I even tried to think of a way to back out. But in the end, I found myself standing at the edge of a cliff, fearful tears in my eyes. Was I going to die today?

I’ll admit, that’s a little dramatic, but I was terrified. All kinds of thoughts swirled through my mind on the way up the mountain. The first zip line trail I took was scary, and I’m pretty positive I cried the entire ride. The next one was a better, and by the end I started feeling a bit more comfortable—I would even say I enjoyed it, slightly. When it was over, I felt a huge sense of relief.  But I was also very proud of myself: I faced my fears, got through this little experience, and when it was over I had a strange feeling of exhilaration. So now I’m planning ahead for next year…white water rafting, perhaps? Just kidding.