First and foremost, I apologize for not updating this page as often as I wanted to. I had initially planned on updating it after every single jump, but things happened extremely fast. As the title describes – I made 25 jumps in just under 12 days time, while still working 45 hours per week. But I can honestly say it’s been one of the greatest 12 days of my life.

Along the way there have been some very notable jumps, here are my favorites:

Jump no. 7

Obviously my first Free Fall jump would make the list. I already wrote about it in “Not Bad, for a Wednesday” but I have to reiterate it here. Freefall is breathtaking. The feeling of just letting go from an airplane is unforgettable, and so is this jump.

Jump no. 9

Two days after my first free fall jump, I started jumping my own packjobs. For someone who can barely fold a shirt, packing a parachute scared the living hell out of me. That first jump – all I could think about was “Will this open?! Will it?!” and totally lost focus on the jump itself. We went out at 6.5, and I was only able to do two 90^o turns before I pulled- at 5,000 feet. My coach, Cora, landed next to me laughing, she knew exactly why I did it.

“See? It opened. I told you it would. Now you get to do two more 90^o turns plus 180’s and 360’s on the next jump. You’ll have to pull even lower to get them all in on time.”

Jump no. 13 (lucky no. 13!)

This was the second spot I made (a stressful event in and of itself) but this was also my first tracking jump. For those of you who don’t get to routinely fall at terminal velocity, I’ll enlighten you.

Tracking is the art of removing yourself from the arch that was so painfully drilled into your skull during your first jumps in order to move rapidly across the sky. When doing formation skydiving (relative work) it is important that you are clear of the group you exited with when you pull your parachute. Tracking works by placing your hands on either hip, cupped down, while rolling your shoulders down, and pushing your feet together. This allows you to really haul ass away from people, it’s also INSANELY fun. The thing I love about it is the sound. Freefall is loud, but a rather gentle “swish”-ing sound as the air goes by. When you track, you accelerate even faster, which makes a “WOOOSH” sound. Every time I track for more than a few seconds, I feel like Ironman™ breaking the sound barrier.

Jump no. 18

This was my check dive. At 18 I had completed the entire Skydiver’s Information Manual (SIM) manual, and just had fun jumps til I could get my license. I loved this jump because I really feel like I nailed it. For those of you who don’t know, the last 3 or 4 jumps in the SIM are swoop & dock jumps, meaning you have to approach and grab your coach in the air – much trickier than it seems. I always had trouble falling fast enough to keep up with my jumpmaster Paul, so I blew it a couple times.

But no. 18 was different. I jumped with Cora, who’s about the same size as me.  I got to do some backflips off of the step, which were ridiculously fun, and then completed my turns, and then I saw Cora above me. I was able to get back up to her and dock with almost no effort. It felt great to finally get that satisfaction. I was so excited I did another backloop, then tracked and pulled. Awesome.

Jump no. 19

Jump 19 was a fun jump, I had a ton of fun because I got to dive out after Paul. Dive-out exits are awesome. Jump 19 was crazy, because I had also just taken apart and reassembled a 3-ring system with our FAA certified Rigger, Mike. Mike was so concerned that I was putting my side together correctly, that he accidentally put his side on 360^o from where it should have been. This caused a line twist about midway up that in effect stopped the end cells on my right side from opening. It was my first true “fast” malfunction. I immediately began spinning, and was about to cutaway when I saw the single twist, and remembered that we had just reassembled that 3-ring system. I twisted at the base of my risers, and that transferred the twist from the lines to the risers, and flew the rig home. Cora was impressed that I didn’t cut it. Teddy wanted me to cut it, because that would be 3 cases of beer I’d have to owe.

Jump no. 20

This jump almost made me poop myself. Paul, Cora and I did a 3-way from 10,000. We planned on exiting in a circle, breaking and turning 360^o, then reconnecting and doing it again. Our exit was great, but once we turned, Paul fell under us and I started to side-slide while holding onto Cora. Paul backslid and was starting to come up, but I was side-sliding too fast. He flew directly under me, putting me in his “burble”. I immediately dropped on his back at 8,000 feet into an inadvertent “Rodeo” – it was crazy. Once on the ground, Paul thought it was just the funniest thing.

“I’ve never seen anybody hop off a rodeo so fast, you weren’t quite ready for that, where you?”

Nope. Not at all.

Jump no. 23

This jump went well, Teddy and I exited, but rotated head-down and held it. According to his audible altimeter, we travelled at 190mph as a top speed. The crazy part though, was deploying. This was a chute I had packed, and I had the most insane pilot-chute burble ever. I literally pulled at 4,000 feet and finally came under canopy at 2,800. It wasn’t until I rotated to reach for my cutaway handle that the parachute finally deployed. Crazy.

Jump no. 24

Under this one, in my logbook I wrote “PERFECT” in big, capital letters. Cora and I went from altitude, on the way up we changed our dive plan 3 times (She said it made me a real skydiver.) We started with grips, I then released and went sidebody. Cora held her heading, I side-slid around and got the other side, then back to front dock. We did this twice. I was so incredibly jacked. This was the first jump I did that I really feel like I nailed RW on the first try.

Jump no. 25

Graduation! This jump wasn’t all to spectacular, same plan as 24 only I would have to fall faster because it was with Teddy, who is bigger than Cora. I was only able to get around him once, but then I tracked for 15 seconds at full speed. Landing felt great, I had put the feet on target for the 8^th time that day.

What are some of your most memorable jumps? Most insane? Best improvisation? Holler at me in the comments.

“It’s the closest you’ll ever get to God.” I guess my story begins with this quote from the movie Point Break, a film my friend and I watched incessantly and memorized line for line when we weren’t slingin’ drinks behind the bar together back in the early 90’s. In our early 20’s at the time, with an abundance of adrenaline and a deficit of good sense, we’d reaffirm our commitment to jump together one day each time we’d watch the exciting but (as I now realize) unrealistic skydiving scene from the movie. At the time, it seemed as sure to happen as the sun rising each day.

Fast forward to Fall of 2009. Guess what? Life happened. My buddy was living his and I was living mine, and our joint skydive had not occurred in either during the 16+ years since we’d gone our separate ways. The friendship was still solid and we’d usually talk several times a year, but the skydiving promise was rarely mentioned. My birthday was coming up in November, and I wanted to do a little something different for this one. After striking up a conversation with a friend at my favorite cigar bar one afternoon, the topic came up. She’d done a tandem. Twice! Absolutely loved it both times. I told her I’d always wanted to, but just never got around to it. By the time I left that evening, I was seriously considering it. As wonderful as the idea of jumping with my buddy seemed, I realized that if it hadn’t happened in over 16 years, it probably wasn’t going to, so this was something I was going to have to do on my own. Looking back, I must also admit that there may have been a bit of midlife crisis at play here too…..a small epiphany of sorts. “I’m not getting any younger. I’m in good shape for my age, and most of my friends are in a different place in life right now. Carpe Diem motherfucker. It’s now or never” I’d tell myself. So over the next week, I made peace with the fact that I may actually be able to do it. I researched the specifics and began to wonder if I really had the balls to jump out of a plane. After wrestling with myself for a bit longer, I decided that my 42nd birthday would be like no other. I was going to do it. Now….how to tell those near and dear to me! Freda, my significant other, reacted with a great deal of concern, but to her credit, never discouraged me. She explained that her concern was out of love and for my safety, but if that’s what I wanted to do, go for it. My parents both reacted in a much calmer way than I thought. My mother even stated, “Well, I always thought you’d do something like that.” My father was actually quite intrigued by the idea. I was shocked….but in a pleasant way, knowing I wouldn’t have to carry the additional burdens of disapproval of loved ones up and then down with me. So it was decided. I called Skydive The Farm in Rockmart, Ga., and set up a tandem on my birthday, a Saturday in November. I was really going to do it!

The next 5 or 6 weeks seemed to drag out. I continued reading and learning about what I was about to experience. My heart would race when I’d watch videos and think of how it must be to fall from 14000 feet. One weekend, two weeks before I was scheduled to jump, we were at a Halloween party and I mentioned what I was planning to do. A friend, upon hearing what I was planning to do, immediately said he would do it with me. I called bullshit, and he said “No really, I’m serious. I’ve always wanted to do it.” I looked at his wife, who nodded in agreement. So he committed, and we were set to do it together. Now I didn’t have to go it alone! There were daily texts between us. 10 days….6 days….3 days. Finally, it was time!

My Dad and I arrived at the DZ bright and early on the Saturday morning of my birthday. My friend and his wife met us there. Freda opted to not come and watch, but did choose to receive a phone call upon my landing safely! We were pretty much the first ones there and didn’t really know where to go, but a regular got there about the same time and directed us to the office. We walked in and found someone sleeping on the couch. Immediately the thoughts began to race through my mind. “I don’t know about this. What kind of place lets people sleep on the couch? This doesn’t look very professional to me. Is the guy sleeping going to be the one I jump with?” All sorts of other thoughts raced through my mind as I looked around. I now realize that this is just a part of life at most dropzones, but at the time it was a little unnerving when mixed with all my other thoughts and feelings. Nevertheless, things started coming to life. We read and signed the waiver forms, which as most of you know, can be quite an experience in itself. We then watched a video of what we were getting ready to do. Soon after, we were led into the hangar and given our choice of who we could jump with. They asked me first, and pointed around to a few people. One of the guys was sleeved out in tattoos, had hoop pierced ears, etc. I saw him and said “That’s my guy.” His name was Ryan…..a 23-year-old skydiving badass that completely looked the part for what I wanted to associate with my skydiving experience. We met, and he began telling me all the specifics about what to do during the skydive. We got all rigged up, took a few pictures, and it was off to the bus to head to the airport, only about 10 minutes away. It was starting to get real now!

The 10 minute ride to the airport was pretty quiet and uneventful. I asked Ryan a few questions, and while friendly enough, he wasn’t overly chatty. Others were talking, joking and whatnot. I particularly remember several people commenting on the fact that one of the other tandem instructors had recently lost a good bit of weight. “Yeah, that meth’s a helluva a drug,” he said. It was obviously a joke, and brought out a good chuckle among everyone. It was a nice way to ease the tension, but before I knew it, we were pulling up to the plane. My heart began to beat faster, my mouth got dry, and my palms got sweaty. We departed the bus and my video guy did another quick little piece before we boarded. We filed into the plane and took our seats. The pilot started the engines and the fumes filled the cabin. They were really strong…..so much that they had to open the door so everyone could breathe! We took off and began the climb to altitude. There was one hop ‘n’ pop, so at about 5000, the red light came on and the door slid up. When I felt that cold air and looked out into the sky, that’s when it really started to hit me. Next thing I knew, a guy took his position in the door, faced forward, and just hopped out. There one second, gone the next. Holy Shit!!! It was shockingly surreal. In my head, for the first time I was saying “What the fuck are you doing?” The video guy was filming and turned to me to get my reaction. “Hey Allan! What do think about that? Did you see that guy get sucked out of here?” I commented, and he then said “Okay, next time that door opens, it’s your turn. Skydiving baby.” So we got to 14000 and the door opened. People, and groups of people, started jumping out. We were towards the end, and my buddy went just before me. We got to the door and I looked down. It was literally breathtaking in the truest sense of the word. I have never had such clarity of life as I did at that moment. I couldn’t believe what I was about to do. Before I knew it, we rolled out of the plane doing forward flips…..two to be exact. We got belly down and stable, and the drogue was deployed. I immediately began screaming. Not a terrifying scream, but more of an “I just jumped out of a plane and am having a fuckin’ blast” scream. Dave, the video guy, appeared in front of me and extended his hand, which I grabbed. We were spinning, high-fiving, and everything else. Then, before I knew it, freefall ended as Ryan deployed the main. This is when things got really interesting.

The deployment was a bit more violent than I was expecting. Not a neck-breaker or anything, but pretty substantial nonetheless. I looked up and saw the parachute over our heads, but noticed we were spinning. I thought “Hmmm…..this doesn’t seem right.” Ryan didn’t say anything initially and I could tell he was working to try and fix something. We continued to spin. I asked “Are we cool?” He said, “We will be if I can get this worked out,” or something to that effect. Then he asked me to help him kick. I’m like “Kick how?” This isn’t something we’d covered before the jump, so I had no idea what he wanted me to do. Nevertheless, I tried to do what he asked, to no avail. He then calmly announced “Okay….we’re gonna have to chop.” Now I didn’t know exactly what “chop” meant in skydiving lingo, but I had a pretty good idea based on the root meaning of the word. The next thing I know, he says “3…2…1.” The trap door opened, and we fell for a few more seconds. I then look up and see the most beautiful fully inflated grey canopy. No spins this time either. All the lines were extending to the chute in a straight, proportional and unobstructed way. Almost immediately, he announced “Well, that was #8 for me.” I said “Let me get this straight. Did we just have a main parachute failure?” “Yep, he said. “And out of the thousands of jumps you’ve done, that’s only the 8th time you’ve had to go to reserve on a tandem?” “Yep,” he said. We came in and made a perfect slide-in landing. Dave was there to greet us with the camera. “What do think of that Allan? You got a 2 for 1! Not everybody gets one of those!” My buddy and I met, slapped high-fives and gave each other a big hug. On the walk back to the hangar, a very nice and supportive guy approached me, put his hand on my shoulder and told me not to worry about it. “It’s about a 1 in 1000 chance, but it does happen, and that’s why there are reserves,” he stated. Although things were still going at warp speed in my mind, I really appreciated such a kind and comforting gesture from a total stranger. That was when all the misconceptions and stereotypes about skydivers began to melt away in my mind. The magnitude of what had just happened didn’t really sink in for quite some time. I had waited 42 years and finally grown the balls to jump out of a plane, only to have a main chute malfunction of severe line twists that resulted in a cutaway. Un…Fucking…Believable!!!!! As I tried to absorb and make sense of it, a weird feeling came over me: the malfunction and cutaway, in a strange and sick sort of way, had only added to the experience. I couldn’t believe I was actually feeling this way about it. “I really must be certifiable,” I thought to myself. I left the dropzone that day supercharged with adrenaline and with a whirlwind of thoughts, but one thing was clear: I knew I’d be back.

The four of us left the Farm and decided to grab some lunch. As we talked about the experience, my buddy and I decided that we wanted to get licensed together. As we talked about what we’d just done, I could hardly get my beer up to my mouth without spilling it. I couldn’t believe it. I’d just survived a main malfunction, and wanted to go back for more! We agreed that we’d get through the holidays, and would start the process sometime after the first of the year. So that’s what happened. I got through the holidays, saved some money and started my journey in earnest around the end of February this year. My buddy had other priorities to pursue and opted not to do it yet. He still wants to, so we’ll see. For me, the pull was undeniable. And it continues to be just that….undeniable.

So as you may have gathered from the title of this, I’m at 34 jumps and counting. I’d planned to try and summarize everything I’ve felt and done up to this point in one writing, but as you can see ended up getting a little long-winded! For now, let me just say that this has been an incredibly defining experience for me. This will now be a multi-part memoir, so there will be plenty more thoughts and stories in the future. I hope you’ll continue the journey with me in part II, which will be coming soon. Until then, enjoy the pic of me and my buddy after our tandem.

Blue Skies my friends!!!

We did it!!!

Q: How cool am I?

A: Not so cool as I think I am. I failed Level 1.

Nobody fails AFF Level 1. (Well, some people do, but it not typical). Not type A die-hard nut-balls like me. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Here’s how it went down.

As I previously mentioned, I had a long two week lag time (due to winds and weather holds) between my ground school training and my first AFF jump. All that waiting had a certain value but it also served to get me pretty jacked up (that’s a technical term for you noobs out there) and spazzy.

There were a few elements that led me to be extra spazzy. I had done all my planning and training with Sandy and Mike and now I was jumping with A and R, who I had barely met. There was a last minute decision by the DZO that put me on the load and they were holding the bus for me while a packer hurriedly packed my rig and threw it on me at the last possible moment. I ran to the bus and faked calm aplomb. (This is my go-to expression while hanging out in the drop zone. I fool no one.)

For unknown reasons, I had decided that I would be pretty good at free fall. Maybe “good” isn’t the right word. More accurately, that I wouldn’t make an ass of myself or become a target of worldwide drop zone ridicule as the first person who ever curled up in the fetal position for the duration of their jump. I knew I wouldn’t do that.

What I was pretty danged freaked about was the canopy work and landing. I was pretty sure there was a possibility I would completely misjudge the landing pattern and land off, or end up in a tree, or flare at 50 feet and hit the ground like a giant yellow brick (my student jump suit was yellow. A very bright, non-sexy, say hello to the clown girl, yellow). It was possible I could become the target of worldwide drop zone ridicule for the first human banana to ever drive herself into the ground, even with clear instructions given over a walky-talky. These are the thoughts I tormented myself with on the ride to altitude.

The AFF Level 1 dive flow (sequence) is as follows:

1) Exit plane smoothly into the relative wind and in sequence with instructors gripping you on either side (holding your leg strap and shoulder docking grip on each side).

2) Level off in belly down position (arch. relax. legs out. lather. rinse. repeat).

3) Circle of awareness (check horizon/heading, check altimeter, check reserve side instructor for signals, check main side instructor for signals).

4) Three practice touches to hacky of pilot chute with smooth counter movement of left hand.

5) Mini circles of awareness until time to wave off and deploy at 6,000 ft.

Simple, right? I’d been practicing this thing for two full weeks. Literally practicing it. Lying on my floor and going through the motions like a good good little type A dork. I was only obsessing/freaking about the landing.

It was a pretty full load on the otter, with maybe 20 people; a few tandems and the usually motley assortment of fun jumpers (hey! who you calling motley?). I was on the load with one other AFF student, Sara, who was doing her AFF Level 5. As we reached altitude (14,000 ft), we were skirting a cloud. The light turned green and everyone began exiting the plane. The tandems pushed past us to exit, which is unusual since tandems usually go last, but I didn’t really know that yet so I just waited for the signal from my instructors. Then someone closed the door and the plane started diving!

I was completely perplexed, freaked out, confused, and jacked up out of mind. WTF? We have to go back down?! Finally, an instructor told me that we couldn’t exit AFF into a cloud like that and it was raining in the cloud so we had to go below it to exit. Sara made it clear that she no longer wanted to jump on that run. Really!? I thought, she has done this four times and she doesn’t want to go. What should I do? I was still in stubborn bi-aach mode so when they turned to me to ask if I still wanted to jump I didn’t hesitate: hell yes!

In all the confusion of switching places, lurching dives and turns, final gear check and a once again open door, I only remember one moment. As I knelt in the door, one instructor on either side, my outside instructor yelled: “Are you ready to Skydive?!” I remember thinking: what the F**K am I doing! (I curse even more in my head, believe it or not). But I hollered back a “yes!” and took my position in the door. Then I jumped like the badass I am.

Except maybe not so badass, ‘cuz this is what happened:

As we exited, I lost my instructor on the left side. After a bit he came back into my line of sight in front of me. I checked for signals: none. I checked my right side instructor (thankfully still attached): no signals. “Aha! I AM a badass,” I thought moronically, “No signals. I’m a natural.”

Then I checked my altitude like a good girl. Ooh getting closer. Any new signals? None. I still rock.

I look at my instructor ahead of me. He gives me the signal to pull (see above). I reach back.

All hell breaks lose.

If you recall, I have previously done four (count ‘em: four!) tandem jumps. In the last three, the tandem master let me pull. I think I am very cool. In fact, I have trained myself to be really good at pulling a golf ball located well behind me. On the back of the person behind me. A whole adult person’s body behind me! This is NOT where my hacky is. Not even close. I am officially a dumbass. Let’s count the ways:

Dumbass Thing Number One: I reach for my hacky. I am scrambling at the edge of my container, probably about two feet from the loction of my actual hacky, which is right up against my butt. I am WAAAAY off.

Dumbass Thing Number Two: I suddenly realize I never did any of my three practice touches in my dive flow. Completely spaced it. In fact, the first time I have ever reached for my hacky, the thing that will save my life, is now, at approximately 5,500 feet.  I think vile things about myself.

Dumbass Thing Number Three: I recover from my self flagellation and am determined to find the flippin’ hacky. I scramble; reach and feel around. I am so determined to find it that I forget that my instructor is there to help me with this very thing. He is trying to put my hand on the hacky but I am alternating between swatting him away and gripping his altimeter in a death grip of studipidity. I am thinking (I swear to god): “I don’t want my instructor to pull for me! (which he will do if we drop too far) I want to pull it myselllllllfffffff!!!” Like a two year old. We’re at 5,000 feet.

Dumbass Thing Number Four: I find the hacky!!!! I am thrilled! I rip it out of the BOC. I wait for the lurch of inflation. I wait. There is nothing.

I look down at my right hand. I am holding the pilot chute in my right hand, right in front of me. I am officially a ginormous moron.

To explain for those who cannot understand the magnitude of my error: The pilot chute is a very small parachute with a hacky sack attached to it that you pull out of a little elastic pocket on the bottom of your rig. When it catches the wind it inflates and yanks a cord (called a bridle) which pulls the pin that holds your bag closed and releases your parachute (see appropriate use above, mid-opening). You’re trained to pull out your hacky and throw it away (like you hate it!). There is a very important reason for this. First, if you do not let it catch the wind and inflate, it cannot release your main. You need that. More importantly, holding on to the PC can cause the worst of all possible malfunctions: the horseshoe malfunction.

A horseshoe is when your chute is attached to you in more than one point of contact. The second (unintended) point of contact will keep it from inflating properly. Furthermore, it can really really injure you depending on where that second point of contact is (your neck, your arm, etc).

But that’s not even the worst of it. A horseshoe is much more tricky to recover from. Most malfunctions allow a nice clean Plan B:  cut away the bad main chute and deploy your reserve. A horseshoe cannot always released when you cut away because part of it is stuck on something, so it’s flapping all over and hurting stuff. Then, if you deploy your reserve, the reserve can easily be fouled by the first unreleased chute.

That’s bad kids. Bad.

So, by holding the pilot chute I was not only not deploying my main, but also endangering myself and everyone around me. Get it?

I am smart enough that I computed this in approximately .06 seconds as I looked at my right hand and then I threw that hacky away like I hated it after all.

And then: whooosh! Up I went. Good canopy. Good spot. Drove that bad boy canopy like nobody’s business. Stood up the landing and walked it out like a Sunday stroll.

So, I failed my Level 1. My instructors were very apologetic but understandably felt I needed to do it again and not almost kill everyone this time.

I went up next load, did it again and nailed it. They said my performance was text book perfect.

Lessons learned:

1) Do NOT hold onto the hacky. Ever.

2) Do practice touches on the ground, in the plane, in the rig you are actually going to wear.

3) Don’t forget to do your dive flow.

4) If something changes about your exit, get re-focused before you jump.

5) Just because your instructors are not giving you signals doesn’t mean you are doing everything right. (Side note: my instructor was too busy stabilizing me to give me signals during free fall because I was unstable and creating a spin he was trying to control.) Think. Review your body position mentally and check yourself.

6) If you think you are badass, remember, dumbass is just seconds away. And stupid hurts.

7) If you fuck up and don’t die: do it again and do it better the next time. Learn from your mistakes.

When it comes to skydiving, I believe there are three kinds of people.

The first kind hears the word “skydiving” and thinks: “The best. Idea. Ever!” These are people who enjoy rock climbing and rappelling upside-down, snowboarding, bungee-jumping, and eating strange foods for fun. For these people, life is a relentless Mountain Dew commercial, with all their experiences flickering by in jump cuts as they endlessly quest for the next big rush. Or so I imagine.

The second kind of person thinks skydiving sounds stupid and horrifying. This person is likely to say something like, “Why on earth would you jump out of a perfectly good airplane?” The idea of skydiving is entirely alien and goes against all instincts to this person.

The third kind of person has an instinctual fear of skydiving but also knows deep down that if they could find a way to break through that fear, they would really enjoy it. Hopefully. That is, if they are alive at the end.

I am the third kind of person. I have never been deeply afraid of heights, but I’ve never been real keen on heights either. When I’m pushed to an uncomfortably high place my body begins to war with my mind. My mind says “Hey, it’s alright…this is perfectly safe,” while my body enlists my stomach to climb up my throat in a futile attempt to throttle my senseless brain. The net result: nausea, vertigo, racing pulse, flop sweat…a clear message from my body that death is indeed immanent, so pretty please, with sugar on top, return to safer ground, NOW!

I went on my first skydive as a tandem student in November of 2008. I have a video and everything, which I’ll be happy to post sometime for giggles. The most surprising thing for me about my first skydive was that I never had a moment in which I was really freaked out and had to overcome the terror I described above. I was more afraid of being afraid then the actual thing, which was pretty easy peasy. But, unlike Adam, I didn’t go from one tandem to full-on addiction. I eased in.

My home drop zone is Skydive the Farm in Rockmart, Georgia. I did my first jump because my friend Sandy is married to the DZO (drop zone owner) and she’s pretty cool. So, because I was still friends with Sandy, I jumped again (another tandem) a year later. But I STILL wasn’t hooked.

This winter I went through a personal crisis. My marriage of 15 years fell apart. I was hanging in there okay emotionally and keeping busy (I have three kids. Don’t run away and think you’re too cool to hear this old chick’s story: I’m also a MILF!) with my kids and new solo life but I was freaking out deep down because, the end of a 15 year marriage is a pretty big deal. One weekend in March I went out to the drop zone just to hang out and did yet another tandem (I was starting to figure out how cool drop zone life and community can be), and Sandy started asking me when I was going to do AFF. I just shrugged, totally not getting it.

My breakthrough came about a month later, the day I broke down in sniveling tears as I realized that right now my biggest fear is being alone. While I am a fiercely independent and accomplished person, I am also very social and very much need to be connected. I had found myself in a vortex of dis-connect. My support system of 15 years had evaporated. Everything I knew about who I was, how I defined myself, had been obliterated. I felt bereft in a way that I imagine is similar to experiencing the death of a loved one. I HAD lost my loved one, my other, my soft place to land. I felt naked and vulnerable and terrified.

In that moment of realizing how raw and afraid I was of being on my own, my mind immediately jumped to the image of me, jumping alone from the door of an airplane. The idea terrified me. But with that fear was a clear knowledge that people face that fear and jump alone into the open sky on purpose, for a reason.

The outcome of being afraid and jumping anyway is something not many people can do, but when it is faced head-on, it is for many the purest form of joy. In that moment I knew that I would jump alone and I knew without a single doubt that I would not only be okay and that I would experience something so valuable to me that it couldn’t even be named.

Within two weeks I had sat my training course, spent hours in the drop zone (many of them grounded by winds too high for a novice like me), and many hours pouring over a training manual (SIM). On Sunday, May 9^th, the weather cooperated and my instructors (the AFF course trains you by jumping with instructors who coach you throughout your jump with hand signals and reminders of all you have learned) went up to 14,000 feet so I could finally confront the door of the plane and see what I was made of. That was the day I became a skydiver.

The door of the plane has come to represent many important things to me. Even now, at a grand total of 25 jumps, each ride to altitude finds me in the grip of a numbing fear. My monkey brain begins to gibber that I am not capable enough, that I am not smart enough, that I am not coordinated enough, that I will look dumb, that I will fail, that I am not enough. I fight back. I breathe deeply and tell that monkey, “I can do it. I am enough!” Sometimes I believe myself and sometimes I don’t, but the most important thing is what I do next. Every single time, I keep breathing. I keep focused on the task at hand. And I keep moving.

In my profession (I am a chiropractor), movement is life. Life is movement. I keep moving. I do the next thing I have been trained to do, and the next, right up until I am in the door of the plane, looking over the most heart wrenching sight: the bluest of skies and the arch of our planet. And then, heart pounding and shaking, I remember that I am enough, I am more than the monkey voices, and I always will be, and then I keep moving until I have leaped from the plane and I am flying once again.

And oh, the flying!!! I could jabber on for ages about the thrill of flying. It is nothing like falling, or roller coasters, or anything you have ever done, except leaping from an airplane. There is nothing like it or ever will be. In the moment you leave the door, not only does the monkey voice stop, it becomes a joke. Freefall is the most perfect release and the most perfect form of ”nowness” I have ever encountered. It is more than zen, more than fun, more than beauty. Flying allows me access to the place where all the BS drops away and I am left with only that which is real and good.

Skydiving has allowed me to redefine myself, to release myself, to trust myself, and to be myself in a way I haven’t in years. I have laughed harder, drank more (Oooh. That’s a story you’d love to hear soon), and made more true friends than I knew I could.

I can’t wait to share more details of my new addiction, and even more importantly I can’t wait to hear from you. All my posts won’t be this long and soul searching. Sometimes it’s just fun jumps and sunset loads and owing beer again.Speaking of which… (first post. crap).

Please post comments!
-Mary

So I was having a very hard time convincing my mom to come jump with me… When she got there, she loved the atmosphere and the people and everything, so I popped up the idea of letting her ride co-pilot.
She asked me to go find out how much it would cost, so I just manifested her, and brought over the form for her to fill out.
She looked at me and said something along the lines of “I didn’t tell you to book me, I told you to ask how much it was!”
So I pulled her chair up to a table and made her sign the form.
Within 20 minutes, she was being explained how to use a parachute in case the plane had a problem.
I was the 2nd to get off that load, so I didn’t get the chance to see her, but she looked ECSTATIC when she got off.
A friend who came along snapped some photos which I’ll post at a later date. (I didn’t get my hands on them yet).

The conditions weren’t that great, it was cold and was raining in altitude… Let me tell you, rain drops sting like crazy when you hit them at terminal velocity!
All in all, was a fun day, got 2 jumps in, practiced some barrel rolls:

Did some more mantis practices as well… I Couldn’t find a good video of it, but basically, you’re in a position where you’re more arched, your arms are a bit more tucked in, with your hands around your chin.
You’re less stable, but you get a lot more control and speed with your movements.

All in all, a great 28 and 29th jump

-Adam

So my mom finally accepted to come to the drop zone and watch me do some skydives.
I’m actually hoping that once she’s there, she’ll let me pay for her to get a tandem.
She’s somewhat adventurous, but has been extremely against the idea of her jumping.
She’s been super supportive of the fact that I love the sport though, so I’m happy about that one =).

I’ll write up a post about what happened tomorrow next chance I get.

-Adam

After 22 jumps, I’ve spent at the very least 18:32 minutes of my life falling…

(Not including falling on the ground, falling out of trees, bungee jumping, or any other kinds of falls )

Today was an AMAZING day for skydiving, got 5 of my VR jumps in for my A license.
The day was mainly aimed at people coming to do free-flying, so I got to see a SICK formation being done with a 15 person big way. I was the last off the plane with my instructor Valerie, who was quick to point out to me that we should watch the plane, (we got to jump at 15000 feet instead of the usual 13500 on this jump, and since we were last off the plane (which is a rare occurrence unless you’re a Tandem) we got to watch it spike (fly downwards about as fast as we were falling) after 10-15 seconds of it spiking, we started out track practice for my 7th VR jump. This was a great way to end a beautiful day before going to another drop zone to meet Valerie again for my last 3 jumps.

This is a video of some great tracking…

For those of you who don’t know, tracking is very important when doing group jumps and formations… You basically do it at the end to split up in the sky so that you can get enough distance between you to not crash into each other when deploying your parachute

- Adam

Earlier, I read mike’s status to say: “so it’s official, I enjoy falling.”

All I have to say to this is:

I don’t enjoy falling… I’m addicted to it… In my dreams, I’m falling, in my nightmares, I’m falling, in my DAY dreams I’m falling… I look outside and I simply want to fall… Soon enough I’m gonna make a living off falling, then I know for sure that I have a problem

So all in all, we ended up being 2 regular jumpers and 19 tandems.
Load 1 got off the ground without a hitch, well apart from a PFF student having a botched landing and face planting and a tandem with a heavier girl landing rolling into the parachute… We had a good laugh .

The twin otter stopped to gas up for load 2 which I was on with a buddy.
Jump went impeccably.
Load 3 also went without any problems…

Load 4 however… Never got off the ground, leaving 6 of the tandems I had brought hanging around waiting for their turn…
Turns out that the registration fees for the NAFTA weren’t paid… Or so Transport Canada’s inspectors claimed.
So we waited for 2 hours, and still nothing… By hour 3, the owner of the DZ announced that people could either take the risk and keep waiting, or go come and come back another day.

Needless to say, I decided to go home after having done only one jump, the same goes for one of the other tandem jumpers (who’s also my co-worker)… The others waited and ended up getting onto a load after 6 hours of waiting…
At this point, I’m obviously frustrated, as it was a PERFECT day for skydiving… and By perfect I mean: Not a cloud in the sky, 30 degrees celcius outside… a Perfect, sunny day. Which is something that VERY VERY rarely happens here… Especially in the month of May.

The tandems who got to jump were obviously extatic with the experience, two or three claimed that they want to take lessons… We’ll see where that leads… I know Mike’s in for the long haul, that’s for sure.

By the way: If any of you want to write for our blog, feel free to send us a note, we’re always happy to hear other divers’ stories and of course publish them

- Adam

So this friday I’m bringing 20 people with me to have their 1st tandem…. That includes Mike.

Some of these people seem more excited than others… Mike for example kept trying to convince me to move the date forward and skip my trip to the Bahamas so that he could do it earlier haha.

I’m honestly looking forward to seeing everyone’s reactions on the plane and then their final reactions once they land on the ground…
I’ll be jumping out before them so I won’t get to see their faces as they get out of the plane… hopefully some people will get a cameraman haha =D

Note for Mike: If you feel the need to pee while falling… please do