I've been waiting for the right day to go do my AFF (accelerated free fall) jump, since I took skydiving ground school three weeks ago. That weekend, the weather sucked and I didn't get out there in the tiny window of decent weather they had. The next two weekends were busy, with travel and hosting the strongwoman competition. I only have 30 days to get my jump in, so this weekend was The Time.
Saturday morning, my alarm went off, and I laid in bed staring at the ceiling for a while. Did I really want to go do this? Hmmm...well, yes. I did. But was I sure? What if I messed up something and looked stupid in front of all the other people at the drop zone? You see, this is how anxiety works. It gets hung up on trivial shit, then beats that dead horse with another dead horse until a new "scary" thing comes along. I wasn't worried about the parachute not deploying. I wasn't even worried about potentially have to cut-away and pull the reserve if I had to. A little nervous about that, sure, but I had a good instructor and felt like I could go through the proper steps if I needed to. Instead, my anxiety latched on to two things: What if I can't find the drop zone once I deploy? And what if I land like a rock in front of everyone? Really. Of all the things...these are what my mind fixates on.
Finally, I thought "Just get your ass out of bed and get in the car". I told myself that I would go out there, and if the weather was good and everything was a go, I was going to face my anxiety and do the damn thing. Besides, I already paid for it. Good thing I have an inner cheap-ass, because that's what finally got me moving.
The drive to the airport is long from here. Plenty of highway, then rural roads and farm land. By the time I got there, my weird nerves had my stomach fluttering. But when I got there and checked in, the girl at the desk recognized me from when we came to tandem jump. I told her I was there to do my first AFF and she cheered. Then she showed me where the sport jumpers hang out and prep to jump, on the back side of the hangar. I got to hang out around the cool kids....people who actually know what the hell they're doing, aside from the basics taught in class. I sat and listened to lots of stories; people were talking about jumps they watched online, with all kinds of crazy stunts, as well as upcoming gatherings and trips. Everyone was super friendly, saying hi and introducing themselves. Whenever someone asked what jump I was on and I told them my first AFF, they got all pumped. It reminded me a lot of the strongman crowd....everyone is laid back and friendly and glad you're there to do the crazy shit with them.
Because I had gotten there later in the morning, and it was a beautiful day, I waited for over an hour to jump. But it didn't feel like a long hour waiting, because I met my instructor and walked through everything. I learned how to check my gear. We ran through the sequence several times, and I got a refresher on all the hand signals used while free falling to help a student adjust their body for the optimum positioning. We talked out the landing pattern and did some trouble shooting for if I wasn't exactly where I wanted to be at certain heights. Steve reassured me that he'd be on the one-way radio I'd have only helmet, walking me in. I felt like I could get the basics and land myself if the radio failed, but definitely hoped the damn thing worked when the time came Then we sat at the picnic table and shot the shit with a couple other guys to pass the time. I met my second instructor just before we got all geared up to go, and he was just as cool. I zipped myself into a jumpsuit (which feels slightly like a sauna suit in the summer sun) and Steve helped me get into my rig. Fortunately, I'm used to awkward leg harnesses and whatnot from climbing, so it wasn't too foreign straightening everything out and tightening up all the bits and pieces. Turns out, a rig is actually quite heavy. And stiff. I'm not sure what the hell I thought it would feel like, but I was a little surprised.
Finally, it was our turn to go. At that point, the fluttering had settled to a dull roar and I was as ready as I was getting. Once we were on the plane, I felt oddly calm. It was a done deal as far as my head was concerned, so what was the use in feeling super anxious? May as well breathe and focus. And enjoy the damn thing. There were a handful of solo jumpers on the plane with us. A few of them went first. Then it was our turn:
They signaled for me to pull at 9k feet, rather than the 5,500 you're taught as a "standard" for students, because the wind was pushing us further away from the airport and they wanted me to have time to get where I needed to be. Of course, at the time, I had no idea of any of that. All I knew was that I looked at my altimeter (the gauge you can see on my left hand) at 9k, then saw the "pull" signal. Steve had reminded me prior that if I see that signal at any time, once it processes, pull. Don't question it, don't ignore it, don't debate it. Just pull. So I did. I'm glad to see all the repeated training and running through the signals sunk into my brain. As soon as my brain realized that was a single finger in front of my face, I tossed the pilot chute. In the video, you can see my 3 practice touches. Steve puts my hand on the handle the first two times, because I was having trouble finding it. On the third touch, I got it straight on. And that stuck in my head, apparently, because I pulled that sucker with no hesitation and no missing or fumbling it.
Once my parachute deployed, I was relieved to look and up and see that it looked exactly how it should. I ran through the test steps, and it flew just fine. Then I looked around. Where the fuck was the airport?? Not below me....nowhere I could see in front of me.....I did a nice gentle turn and OH! there it was behind me. Thankfully, I had been cued to look for the giant white tanks across the road from it, and they were definitely the most prominent thing my eyes landed on. Then I looked at my altimeter. Why had we pulled so early? Of course, the anxious part of my brain assumed it was because I was doing something awful and they had just pulled the plug on the whole freefall. Mentally kicking myself, I then realized I only had a couple thousand feet before I was where I needed to be to start my landing pattern.....and I didn't seem to be close enough. I aimed myself a little straighter, then played around a little with the toggles, pulling to a near stop and hanging there a few times to get a feel for it. I tootled to the left, and to the right, then straightened out again. And then, miraculously, I heard Steve's voice on my walkie. He told me to flare (pulling both toggles down to make the parachute slow down) if I could hear him. I did. "Good!! You're looking good! Keep coming this way". Whew. Okay. Looks like I wouldn't have to land in a field after all!!
Steve talked me in and I executed the turns. Coming in close the ground, a few small puffs of wind kept pulling me to the right. Another jumper was gathering his parachute and turned in time to get out of my way. Steve's voice called "Flare! Flare" and I did and I landed. You're taught to land like a wet noodle, a sort of semi-controlled roll to absorb what impact there is until you're skilled enough to slow at just the right moment to land on your feet - otherwise you risk breaking something. I was less "wet noodle" and more "potato". But that's okay. I was a safe potato who did it all on her own! I laughed and Steve came over. He immediately reassured me that I had done nothing wrong - before I could even ask - and explained the wind thing to me. He said I had done well, and had followed everything like I should. He showed me how to gather my parachute and we walked back to the hangar, processing my perspective of the jump.
We met up at the picnic table and rehashed the jump. I hadn't realized he had the camera on until he said he had video. We watched it and critiqued it. I am but a wee new baby in the land of skydiving. And I have plenty of room to learn and grow. But I was darn proud of myself and Steve gave me a good critique. I need to remember that I have legs and position them better, for sure. And I need to refine my landing as I come down the last 300 ft and land like a potato, for starters. I am definitely looking forward to doing more jumps and really dialing in the muscle memory and learning to read some of the subtle factors. I'm simultaneously nervous and excited to go again. I plan to get a couple of jumps in the next time I go out. I almost stayed for another jump, but realized that I was starving and not prepared to be there for another couple of hours. So I said goodbye to everyone and told them I'll see them in a couple weeks. "Why not next week?!"..... Oh, yep, this is how the addiction grows.
Truth be told, if I weren't going camping, I'd be planning to haul my happy ass back out there.
And so. That was a really long, drawn out way to talk about not letting anxiety get the best of you. It can be scary to be outside of your comfort zone. But I'm learning to assess that and push myself just slightly outside of it.....to push right through those butterflies and take a deep breath and just trust myself to do the thing. I worry about what I'll do...then I worry about what would happen if I did't do it...then I worry again about doing it....
And once it's done, I never regret it. In fact, I'm often pumped to go back for more.
So there's your challenge for this week/weekend. Find something just outside of your comfort zone. It doesn't have to be skydiving (but if it is, I support it!!). Go to a new place. Try out a yoga class. Take yourself out to eat solo sans cell phone. Venture into the unknown. Don't let yourself get in the way. If you find yourself saying "Well, I'd like to, but I don't know if I can...." then say "Self, knock it off. You can do it. In fact, it's practically already done! Bee believes in you". And then tell me all about your non-comfort zone adventure. If it's new for you, it's a big deal, and I want all the details!
I can't wait to hear about everyone's adventures!
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