Stepping out of my box

Today I ran from the mundane (woo hoo - I should be running from the mundane at least one time every day!).  It was a very, very small activity.  So small that it might not even be counted as an activity, but it was something I had not done yet in my new apartment.  Here it is folks: I took the stairs from my 14th floor apartment to the ground floor.  I had been wanting to start taking the stairs (on a regular basis) ever since January 1st, you know, the same time everybody else thinks walking for 5 minutes on a treadmill is going to transform their body into Heidi Klum's.  And so, while waiting for the indolent elevators, I decided today was the day for the stairs and I to get better acquainted.

I feared the stairs for a few reasons:

1. Sure it was easy to get in the stairwell, but could you get out?  What if I became trapped?
2. I might discover escaped convicts hiding out, who may or may not ask for my assistance
3. Rodents - yes I know stairwells aren't reminiscent of a NYC subway station, but rodents thrive in many places

Pushing those sensible fears aside, I went for it.  Fear #1 was actually pretty spot on, because once I started to get closer to the bottom, all the doors said you could not exit through them.  And the reason I couldn't even try to exit through them is because there were no knobs to even grasp.  I saw nobody in the stairwell during my journey.  One flight from the ground floor, I went through a metal cage, which locked behind me.  So much for taking the stairs back up.  When I reached the ground floor I felt dizzy, but overall proud to have taken the stairs less traveled.  And so, stairs get my recommendation for sporadic use.  

Stairs: the best escape route.  Clockwise from top left: the stairwell inside the
old Saint Paul Pioneer Press building, outside of the SPPP bldg,
my stairwell and steps leading to the Mississippi River at Harriet Island