Staring Down

I stood, hurt foot boot rocking on the sidewalk, looking down into the subway entrance. I have not attempted the subway in the last week and a half, managing to get around on buses and on foot. But there were no buses. And this was far too far for just feet. And the clock was ticking. It was getting hard to be on time. I had no choice--I'd just have to try it. So I stood, staring down into the subway entrance, where not one long set of steps, but two, stared back at me. We have to fight our fears, I thought. Embrace challenge. But as I stared at those stairs, people rushing up and down them, my hurt foot boot rocking on the sidewalk, I couldn't do it. The journey that followed included a bus and a cab, and more spent on being on time than I would like being on time to cost.
 
Should I have faced down my fear of those stairs? Should I have had faith that if I went slowly enough, carefully enough, I would have made it without a trip or a slip or a spill? Would overcoming this fear have empowered me to conquer other fears?
 
I'll never know, because I stared down those stairs and walked away. Perhaps sometimes there's a benefit in staring down our fears. But perhaps sometimes, our fears are just protecting us from reacting too quickly to the "should's" and "have to's" and "no choice's" that we encounter every day. So that we have that moment when we can stare down those stairs--and choose.