Learning to swim as an adult gave me the courage to try new things and the wisdom to realize my true potential.

As a travel writer, I’ve been all over the world, even flying to countries the US State Department advises against visiting. But the most terrifying experience of my life took place not in a remote airport in a country ending with “–stan,” but on a serene lake in Canada more than 20 years ago. It was the last night of a 10-day high
school canoe trip, and as part of an initiation ceremony, our chaperone threw me into the lake. I wasn’t in there for more than 10 seconds, but because I didn’t know how to swim, it was a paralyzing moment that sealed my fear
of water for decades to come.

That trip was a departure for me, as my mother had steered me away from athletic pursuits after our family doctor told her I was born with weak bones. As a result, I avoided sports at all costs and embraced my schoolwork and the arts, studying piano for 10 years and regularly attending symphony and ballet performances. I was the “smart girl,” a label that felt safe and easy.