I'm 15 years old, cycling across England with two school friends. We get lost and end up on the summit of Great Gable (the 10th highest peak in England: stupid lost!). I wipe away tears and carry my heavy bike down what feels like an eternity of scree slopes. It's hard, we're lost, and I'm much slower than the others. I don't think I can do it.

I'm 18 years old, driving into a place unlike anything I've seen in all my life. A rough town of shabby homes, bullet holes in the walls and people staring at me. It's my first day in Africa. I cannot imagine living here for an entire year.

I'm outside my Mum and Dad's house on a beautiful summer day. I say goodbye, then climb onto my bike. I've told everyone I'm going to cycle around the world. Can I really do this? Absolutely no chance.

I'm at the front of the living room facing three rows of people, maybe 30 in all. They have come to hear me give a talk about my travels. I feel sweat trickling from my armpits. Not only do I have to remember what to say, I now need to remember to keep my arms clamped to my side as well! Speaking in public is terrifying. I vow never to do this again.

I sit down at my laptop. Open a blank document. Stare at it. It is time to begin writing a book. But how do I turn this blank page into a finished book? I walk to the kitchen to make a cup of tea while I mull over the enormity. The enormity of the blank page has overwhelmed me. 

I'm about to quit my job. Jack in the salary and the pension and the sensible working hours. 

'You're going to do what?' asks my boss.

'I'm going to be an adventurer.'

No, I'm not. Unless I can earn some money, I'm going to be unemployed.

I'm at the cinema. Beer and popcorn. Lights off, film about to start. Comfy chairs. I'm anonymous and surrounded by darkness and people. Strangers who are about to watch my first ever film. What if nobody laughs? What if they laugh in the wrong bits? What if they just fidget, a bit bored? I ought to be happy that my first expedition film has even made it this far. But instead, as always, I'm afraid and out of my depth.

At least this time there is beer and popcorn. So perhaps I am making progress, after all…

***

Living adventurously is about cajoling ourselves to venture beyond what we initially think possible. At each stage in the narrative here, I did not imagine that I would attempt what came next, nor did I give much thought to how many different 'comfort zones' we reside within. There are so many ways to scare ourselves. But each time we dare ourselves to try, we are making progress in the right direction.

Time and again, the questions we ask of ourselves come back with positive replies. I have learned, over and over, that I am capable of more than I realised. We all are. This growth mindset is one of the most precious gifts that living adventurously has given me.