Let's do something crazy. Like something that will make people question your sanity. What's the craziest thing you can think of? Jumping out of a plane at 13,000 feet? Okay, let's do it.
No, I don't think I've always been this "crazy". If anyone told sixteen-year-old me that I would skydive three years from now I would probably laugh in their face and then maybe cry and hide in a corner somewhere. Seriously. I'll admit to having a serious case of FOMO (the fear of missing out for anyone blessed enough to be unfamiliar with this term). I also thought that if I went skydiving, I could prove to myself that I don't need to be afraid of anything else. If I took a huge leap of faith (literally), then I could be fearless right?
Well, when I stepped into that shockingly tiny plane, I wasn't afraid. I was in denial. This isn't happening. Nope, definitely not happening. If I were sane, I would never be doing this. Am I being Punk'd? Ashton, are you there? But Ashton was nowhere in sight. As that tiny plane took off, we crossed the threshold into reality. There was no turning back.
Surprisingly, I felt calm and at peace as I peered out the window. While we were far from the safety of the ground, the view was spectacular enough to take anyone's breath away. Before I knew it, we reached 13,00 feet and it was go time. My instructor carefully attached his harness to mine. As the door of the plane opened, a rush of cool air flooded in. I inched closer to that side, and as I learned earlier from our training, I slowly shifted my feet out onto the ledge of the plane. Then I held onto my shoulder straps for dear life. "1... 2... 3... GO!" My instructor swiftly launched us from the ledge of the plane and we were off... falling at 120 miles per hour!
That one minute of free-fall was the most exhilarating moment of my life. It was incomparable to any other experience. It didn't really feel like falling; it felt more like floating or flying through the sky, with an unbelievable burst of adrenaline and endorphins. Before I knew it, the parachute opened, which proceeded with me screaming, "HALLELUJAH THE PARACHUTE OPENED I'M ALIVE!" My instructor just laughed, because he had jumped about 1,000 times before me.
The next few minutes were completely surreal. I could see horizon as far as Massachusetts and Rhode Island. As we slowly declined in altitude, I observed neighborhoods with houses and cars that appeared doll-size. It wasn't so intimidating anymore. When my feet finally touched the ground and I unstrapped my harness, I felt that I never made a better decision in my life. In fact, I wanted to jump again. The adrenaline and views are enough to get anyone hooked.
It all got me thinking... maybe it's okay if I'm not fearless. It was fear that drove me to jump out of a plane anyways! I was afraid of falling, missing out, uncertainty and afraid of being afraid. But fear makes things interesting. For me, the experience of skydiving was even more rewarding because I thought my fear would hold me back. But I jumped anyway!
So I'm not trying to turn this into a cheesy metaphor, but I guess it's hard not to. All I'm trying to say is be brave and bold even if you don't think you can... because you can! I promise. And embrace the craziness, even if people tell you otherwise. You won't regret it!
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