Hi, I'm Willow Belden and you're listening to Out There, the podcast that explores big questions through intimate stories in the outdoors.

Before we get started, I have a favor to ask. If you're listening to this on your phone, take a screenshot and post it on social media.

Word of mouth is one of the most effective ways to reach new listeners, and every mention helps.

So we've all experienced moments where we shy away from something because we're afraid.

This is often a good thing. Fear is a useful tool. It keeps us in check. It helps us avoid costly risks.

Fear keeps our species alive. But there comes a point when fear is no longer a useful survival tool. If it's unchecked, it can become debilitating, a phobia,

a ghost haunting you through your daily life, potentially wreaking havoc on your relationships.

Today's episode is a story about unchecked fear, paralyzing fear, fear that haunts you day in and day

out. And it's about what happens when you do something really scary in an attempt to get over

that fear. I'll let Olivia round take it from here.

I unzipped my tent and shoved my face into the cold air. Blinking away dreams, I surveyed the

quiet expanse of Hanson City Park in Walden, Colorado.

Frost had licked each blade of grass during the night,

leaving the lawn a dazzling field of diamonds in the morning sun.

I glanced over at my bicycle, as I always did first thing in the morning.

She was still there, leaning against the picnic table, right where I'd left her.

My bicycle, who I'd named Maya, was everything to me.

She was my confidant, my traveling companion, and most of all,

my only means of transport on this four-month cross-country

adventure. I crawled from my tent and stood up slowly, feeling the sore muscles around my neck

and shoulders. I'd peddled Maya 68 miles yesterday across the Wyoming border into Colorado, and my body was feeling it.

I shivered as goosebumps rippled beneath my clothes. It was time to get moving. Today was a big day,

...