I am really going to do this and would love your support to help me achieve - even surpass my fundraising goal!

And here is my story ... I put in my information into an AI chatbot and it came up with this.  I liked the read, and HIGHLY anticipate this is how the day will go for me so this is taken verbatim from my prompt.  Read, enjoy and I hope it motivates you to donate to help me go "Over The Edge" for ALICE.

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The harness felt tight, unforgiving. My palms were slick, not just with sweat, but with a layer of nervous anticipation I hadn't felt since… well, ever. Looking down from the 14th story rooftop, the world shrunk to miniature. Cars became toy-sized, people mere ants. "Over the Edge," they called it. Fitting, I thought, given how close I felt to the edge of my own comfort zone.

I wasn't a thrill-seeker. Heights weren't my thing. My idea of adventure involved a good book and a cozy armchair, not dangling from a skyscraper. Yet, here I was, heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird, preparing to rappel down the side of a building. For ALICE.

ALICE. The acronym echoed in my mind, a stark reminder of the faces I knew, the stories I'd heard. As Chair of the United Way Lower Eastern Shore Board of Directors, I'd become intimately acquainted with ALICE. She wasn't a statistic; she was Maria, the daycare worker who juggled two jobs to keep a roof over her kids' heads. She was Mr. Johnson, the veteran who worked at the grocery store, struggling to afford his medication. She was the single mom down the street, working tirelessly, yet still facing impossible choices each month.

ALICE was my community. She was the backbone of our society, working hard, playing by the rules, yet constantly teetering on the brink. One unexpected expense, one missed paycheck, and she could be pushed over the edge. Just like I was about to be.

The instructor's voice cut through my thoughts. "Ready?"

I swallowed hard, forcing a smile. "Ready as I'll ever be," I managed, my voice a little shaky.

He clipped my harness to the rope, explained the safety procedures, and offered words of encouragement. But the only encouragement I needed was the thought of ALICE. She faced her fears every single day, facing challenges far greater than this rappel. If she could be brave, so could I.

I leaned back, trusting the rope, trusting the equipment, trusting the people on the ground. The first few steps were the hardest. My stomach lurched, and a wave of dizziness washed over me. But then, something shifted. The fear didn't disappear, but it became manageable. I focused on the mechanics, on the steady rhythm of the descent. I looked out at the city, not with terror, but with a new perspective.

As I reached the bottom, my legs a little wobbly, a wave of relief washed over me. I had done it. I had gone Over the Edge. And in doing so, I had reaffirmed my commitment to ALICE. This rappel wasn't just about raising awareness; it was about showing solidarity. It was about saying, "We see you, ALICE. We understand your struggles. And we're here to help you move from barely surviving to truly thriving."

As I unclipped my harness, I knew this was just one small step. But it was a step in the right direction. And I knew, with renewed conviction, that together, we could help ALICE step back from the edge.