For me, the last time these words were uttered, I was 15,000 feet above the earth with a clergyman strapped to my back…honest, I couldn’t make that up:) I was getting ready to jump out of a plane on my 3rd tandem skydive! This day’s jump masters were a group of Christian pastors with a passion for skydiving.
I had jumped twice before and was already addicted to the pure awesomeness that is free-falling! It was my second jump of the day and this time, I would be the one responsible for pulling the rip cord…at precisely 5000 feet. We had triple-checked our equipment and reviewed the flight plan. Ideally, we would free fall for approximately 30 seconds (at upwards of 120mph!) before parachute deployment and then we would glide gracefully into the designated drop zone to the applause and adulation of our friends and fellow jumping enthusiasts:)
Alas, not all went as planned.
For the benefit of those not familiar with tandem skydiving, two people are harnessed together using one parachute. The “student” is on the bottom (the first to hit the ground should something go catastrophically wrong!), with the “instructor” on top (potentially saved by the student breaking his fall:( ). Both parties have an altimeter to measure altitude and as one progresses from jump to jump, the student is given more responsibility with regards to the mechanics of the dive. As soon as the team exits the plane, a drogue chute is deployed. The main purpose of this chute is to act as a stabilizer; since two people are strapped together, this chute helps maintain their horizontal flight pattern and keeps their bodies in a controlled configuration.
So, here we are. Beautiful blue sky. Unobstructed view of the ground far below. Engines are cut. Ready. Set. Go. We launch ourselves out of the plane’s exit hatch. But instead of the adrenaline-charged thrill of free-fall, we are met with an instantaneous sense that something is incredibly wrong. We are flipping over and over and over; somersaulting out of control. My goggles fly off my face. Our bodies are slamming into one another. Unable to maintain the arched form so critical to our success, I’m screaming and trying desperately to pull my arm around close enough to see my altimeter. All the while, the earth is getting closer and closer!
Tears streaming down my face, both from sheer terror and from the speed of our decent. When I am finally able to read my altimeter, we are already at 5000 feet, and we are upside down; I am no longer facing the earth, my eyes are seeing only sky. I can make out the vague shape of the plane in the distance and am shockingly aware that if we engage the parachute in this position, our chance of landing safely is infinitesimal. I panic and pull the ripcord anyway. BUT NOTHING HAPPENS!! Now, I am staring at the bright yellow cable in my hand, and we are still falling.
Acknowledging our precarious position, my instructor uses his strength and experience to flip us back over. Terrifyingly, I once again can see how quickly the topography is coming into view. Not only can I make out roads and farm fields, but the detail of people and vehicles is alarming! As soon as we have corrected our bearing, he pulls the secondary ripcord. And…STILL NOTHING HAPPENS!! For what seems like an eternity (but in reality was only a couple of seconds), we are both looking at what equates to lifelines in our hands, while still free-falling.
Then, with a massive jerk, the chute finally opens. My relief is immediately followed by a very unlady-like, “ WHAT THE *&%$##@ WAS THAT??!!” Much to my surprise, the pastor on my back follows suit with a few colorful words of his own. I glance at my altimeter to see we are at 3000 feet. We had fallen 12,000 in less than 60 seconds and to say I saw my life flash before me would the ultimate understatement! I have often said there is no place or time I’ve felt more and less in control of my life, than when standing on the edge of a plane preparing to jump. It’s terrifying, exhilarating, and life-affirming all at once! And on this day, it was all of that and so much more.
Once we landed safely, we were met instantly by several other jump masters, along with my friends (including my now husband!), who saw everything transpire from the ground. They could tell something had gone awry and were preparing for a possible emergency rescue. After close inspection, we discovered our drogue chute was knotted. In addition to stabilizing the tandem, the drogue chute is responsible for helping to pull out the regular canopy when the ripcord is pulled. Because our drogue chute was packed incorrectly, there was a delay in the deployment of our main chute. Though our jump ended safely, we could have just as easily been the tragic subject of that evening’s local news, and my story would have to be told in third person.
Needless to say, I haven’t been skydiving since.
My sense for adventure is much tamer now; I leave the real thrill-seeking to my husband:). In mid-life, I am much more aware of my vulnerability and mortality. The risks I took as a twenty-something seem irresponsible and selfish through the eyes of a women forty-plus. As a wife and a mom, I can’t imagine intentionally jeopardizing my life; not because I over-value my family’s need for me, but because they are what I live for; and in my greed, I yearn for as much time with them as possible.
With that said, I am always trying to push my own boundaries. My “need for speed” might be at a turtle’s pace instead of a cheetah’s, but I do find ways to expand my comfort zone and carve out adventures less life-threatening and more life-enhancing. Always searching for paths leading to a better version of myself. I want my story to be just that…MY story. Told in all its glory; complete with flaws, fails, missteps, challenges, and triumphs. Told in the first person.
I try to say “yes” more than I say “no”. I try to bury my fear and put on a brave face. I try to temper my anxiety with an equal amount of resolve. I try to participate more than observe. I try to inspire more than discourage.
And I try to be prepared when the world says Ready. Set. Go.