Risk and Reward

I am not sure whether I consider myself a “risk taker”. I go through waves, phases, and situations where I am very risk averse and others where I am comfortable with discomfort. When I think of when I was a little guy, there are definitely stories where I was absolutely fearless, and others in the opposite direction. There was a big chap that I had an intense rivalry with at school. I was... not big. I was tiny. Smaller than most of the girls. Still, I played Hooker in Rugby until I was 12 years old. My fearlessness (at that stage) meant I didn’t seem to realise I was so small. My nemesis was in the first team, and I was in the second (of two), and we used to do drills against each other for tap-and-run. Jones would regularly take the taps, and I’d be the guy who would want to tackle him. Maybe it was because of our personal rivalry, but maybe it was because the bigger they are the harder they fall. If you get the tackle right, it doesn’t matter how big they are. It didn’t seem to matter to me that I normally didn’t get the tackle right, and got munched. The (few) times I did were worth it. Risk and reward.