What. A. Rush.
On August 3rd, 2013, three hours before the scheduled jump, my boyfriend and I arrived at Skydive San Diego, thrilled to complete the paperwork and training I would need to finally cross skydiving off of my Bucket List.
Afterwards, you spend at least an hour watching people fall from the sky in bright colors like yellow, orange, and green. Some people laugh, some cry, some don't jump at all.
I wanted to puke the whole 15-minute ride up to an elevation of 13,000 feet. My boyfriend wanted to (and did) laugh at me.
Then the doors open, and people leap out of the plane - veterans go solo and show only excitement. I watch my guy become a blip on the landscape.
Then Roberto (my instructor) is saying.. 1-2-3-JUMP!
 |
| Roberto was from Argentina. He jumped for the first time at 18 and found his life's calling. |
The wind slaps your eardrums for a moment before drowning in the mixed emotions - fear, elation, disbelief - and the incredible view that is mountains, desert, the ocean, the tiny dots that must be cars. You flip around until the parachute is deployed, and then you are a bird gliding through the scenery. Adrenaline chokes your nerves, leaving only admiration for the perspective of the world you had never known before.
The landing is easier than you imagine. Your cameraman gives you a high-five and tells you that your top speed was 120 miles per hour and that the jump only took 8 minutes.
When you look at the footage afterwards, you make a mental note to wear jeans next time and to work out more. (120mph will make your body fat jiggle)
And you are never the same.
0 thoughts :
Post a Comment