Page 61 of The Comeback Summer

Crush Your Comfort Zone

THE ULTIMATE CHALLENGE COMPANION JOURNAL

WEEK 5

Comfort is not inherently bad. In fact, comfort zones serve a vital purpose in our early years by protecting us. But they become a problem when our desire to remain comfortable prevents us from growing, from achieving our potential.

Today, write about a time in your early life when you did step out of your comfort zone and something scary happened. What did that teach you?

Libby, July 3

Dear Lou,

When I was in second or third grade, my Girl Scout troop went on a camping trip, which was definitely outside my comfort zone. And the hike we went on was REALLY outside it.

The path through the trees was narrow, and I quickly fell to the back of the line. Even though I tried my hardest, I couldn’t keep up. I lost sight of the group and made a wrong turn. (Insert a joke about taking the path less traveled.)

It took two hours before they found me; the sun set and I was terrified in the dark, thinking a bear was going to eat me. Meanwhile, I really had to pee and ended up relieving myself in a patch of poison ivy.

So that whole experience confirmed my belief that it’s better to stick to things I’m good at and enjoy. Also, to stay on the freaking path. It’s there to be followed!

Twenty-Two

HANNAH

It’s the night before the Fourth of July and I have another date—one I’m actually looking forward to. I’ve gone out with two other men in the past couple of weeks, and it’s getting easier. One was axe throwing with a big, burly guy named Gunnar; the other was a tandem bike ride with a guy named Mateo. They were both fine; no sparks, but nothing terrible, either. It’s like exposure therapy, I guess, when people with arachnophobia let spiders walk all over them, or people with a fear of heights stand near the edge of a tall building.

For tonight’s date, I’m meeting Danny at Grant Park downtown for swing dancing under the stars, with a live band and everything. There’s a lesson at eight, then the dancing starts at nine o’clock.

But first, I’m meeting Josh for a drink at the Congress Plaza Hotel. He sent me a text about it the other day, told me that H. H. Holmes used to hang out in that very lobby to scout for his victims—wide-eyed, small-town women who had moved to Chicago looking for work. I suggested we grab a drink tonight before my date.

He has a date tonight, too. A fundraising banquet for the aquarium. And yes, I’ll admit to feeling a twinge ofsomethingwhen he mentioned that. Not exactly jealousy. It was more the realization that this is what we are: friends, moving on in life, pursuing other people. It’s weird. But in a good way, I think. After our Ferris wheel conversation, I finally feel able to move on.

“I’m heading out,” I call to Libby.

She pokes her head out of her bedroom. “Oh, you look so pretty!”

I’m wearing a summer dress, flowery and fluttery; perfect for dancing. It’s a bit outside my usual fashion-related comfort zone, which is the point.

“Thanks!” I say. “Hopefully the weather holds so the dance doesn’t get canceled.”

We’ve had on-and-off-again rain showers all day, but last I checked, it’s supposed to be clear tonight.

“Have fun! I have a good feeling about Danny.” She pauses, then continues in a flat voice: “Say hi to Josh for me.”

•••

I’M A BLOCKaway from the hotel when the heavens unleash a sudden burst of rain. I gasp and start running. I didn’t bring an umbrella, and soon my hair and shoulders are dappled with water.

“Banana!” I look up and see Josh coming around the corner; he has an umbrella, bless him. He’s wearing a dark suit and tie, looking so handsome my chest aches. His date will be impressed.

When he reaches me, he puts the umbrella over my head.

“Thanks for rescuing me,” I say.

“My pleasure.”

Under the umbrella, we’re close enough that I can smell him, and it’s not his usual scent. He’s wearing cologne, something piney and warm that his date will no doubt appreciate.

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