I was 15, climbing a mountain. The sketchiest part about the climb was this one ledge that was about a foot wide, and you had to cling to this boulder while inching along the ledge. I looked down at one point and there was a spider an inch from my hand. It might have been venomous—I don't know—but if I had been afraid of spiders, I would have let go in fright and been killed on the jagged rocks below. Only dimly registered that at the time, now the freakiest part of my life.