Here’s the thing, though: I actually was having fun. My wet pants clung to my thighs, rain was dripping into my eyes, and with every stroke, I worried that I would capsize again. But I wasn’t in actual danger, and when I asked myself, “What’s the worst that could happen if I keep rowing?” my answer was “I’ll fall into the river”—and I’d already done that. Despite my discomfort and residual anxiety, I couldn’t seem to stop laughing.
