It's a Bird, It's a Plane, It's Me and my Mom...!!

By now most of you know that I've jumped out of a plane. Not only did I live, but I loved it so much I've done it two more times since then. Two major victories in the world of skydiving: living and becoming a repeat customer. 

I slept horribly the Friday night before our scheduled jump. Tossing, turning, trying to wrap my brain around jumping out of the open door of an airplane at about 17,500 feet and then free falling at 130 mph for one full minute. Forget about it. There is no preparation.

Saturday morning both my mom and I woke up early.

Our conversation went a little like this:
"Are you ready for this, mom?"

"Are you kidding me, I'm 73 years old. What do you think?" 

"As if this is the craziest thing you've ever done? Yeah right! Let's go!"

"You're right, you only live once!" 

We arrived at the Warren County Airport in Lebanon, Ohio around 8:30 AM. This particular municipal airport is quite familiar to me because it is owned by my brother and located in the vicinity of where I grew up in Maineville, Ohio. I've spent much time there but until this day I never had the nerve to venture over to the skydiving operation hangar: Skydive Warren County. By all accounts it was a perfect day to *gulp* jump. A small part of me wished it wasn't - an excuse to back out would have been ok with me at that moment. Winds were calm. Sun was bright. Flatlands and corn fields in the area were breathtaking. I was oddly comforted by how many people were there to skydive that day. Kind of like there was nothing out of the ordinary about doing this. It normalized it for me... slightly.


My brother, dad, and a few friends were there to witness our jump. We signed a gazillion liability forms, none of which I read. I thought they would freak me out further with their “In the event you plunge to your death we are not responsible,” clauses. We each met our respective professional skydiver tandem partner. Talk about getting to know and trust someone uber quickly, afterall, I was entrusting him with my life! The funniest thing... my mom's partner was nicknamed "Crash" - he was a character and a half - cracking all the wrong kind of jokes, such as, "Oh boy, I forgot to take my narcolepsy medication. Hope I don't fall asleep." Ha Ha. Thank goodness my mom is a kindred spirit and found the humor in it! At this point we were briefly instructed and suited up in these amazing blue flight suits.


Before we knew it, they called our names - it was time to make our way over to the take-off / landing site. I imagined it felt a little like walking the plank towards the inevitable. My mom and I waved our goodbyes to our onlookers as my mom and I gave each other a nervous smile. Here’s the thing. If I was so scared, why do it? Because my desire to jump exceeded the fear. Because in life, you have to keep living and sometimes that means doing things even when it makes your knees tremble and you think you can’t. That's when life really happens.


We boarded the plane - it didn't have any seats, but simply, padded benches on the floor. We buckled in, deafened by the roar of the engine. There were about 7 jumpers in our plane. I had been told you should jump first to minimize the fear, but my fear was already so maximized, I didn’t think it would matter. Not that we had a choice anyway.


Half Way Up
8,750 feet. My instructor, Kip, told me to sit on his lap so he could connect us together. He proceeded to vocalize his checks and re-checks in systematic fashion as he was pulling and tapping each harness. I kept telling myself that I needed to relinquish all doubt and put my total faith in this virtual stranger who had me attached to him. There was simply no room for questioning if I was going to make the jump. My heart was beating like a phonebook in a dryer. The door opened. 17,500 feet. Go time. People started jumping out. One after another. My mom and I looked at each other and gave one another the thumbs up. I watched my mom careen out of the plane first. I was so proud of her. Now it was my turn. We shimmied toward the *dreaded* open door of the plane. Kip told me to take a deep breath. Then another. He said it would only be scary exiting the plane (I doubted that). We were now on the edge, dangling over the earth below.


Jumping Out
This was the moment. Three seconds that simultaneously flew by and lasted a lifetime. As I heard and felt the cold, strong wind and stood looking out into openness that was only sky, I took a second to look down. “F***” is the only word that came to mind. Every molecule of my being felt it was wrong to jump from the safety of the plane. But, every part of me also knew I would do it. The photographer video-taping me climbed onto the outside of the plane (WTF?), waiting for us to jump. My instructor rocked us back and forth three times, then we dove out.


Tumbled was more like it.


The first five seconds were a sensation of falling. Think roller coaster or tower of doom. Plunging to the earth. Kip tapped me which was the signal to take my hands off of my harness at my chest and put them up, kind of like making the “Y” in the YMCA song, only not quite so high. No, I did not start singing our going through the moves. Although that would’ve been funny.


Suddenly, we were floating. Flying. Although we were moving at speeds faster than most cars are capable of going, there was no sense of falling. The noise from the wind was deafening as we fell. I remember looking at the photographer, just a few feet away and giving him the thumbs up. I remember looking down. I remember my eyes watering, despite the protective goggles. I remember the force of air entering my nose and filling up my cheeks, so much so that they seemed to be flapping (not a pretty sight on the video footage. LOL) I remember thinking that one minute felt like a very long time. I remember smiling. Wide. I remember being completely and totally present.


BAM! The chute opened and we were yanked upwards. Uncomfortably so. The photographer continued falling and I watched him disappear towards the earth. Kip maneuvered us in different directions so I could take in the view. He allowed me to take the controls. When one cord in one hand was pulled down and the cord in the opposite hand was raised we'd start spinning. The sensation of verdigo or butterflies in my stomach was overwhelming. When we would just let the wind carry us, it was so peaceful and eerily quiet - a moment in time feeling as if I was on top of the world. I cherished those minutes. As the ground was approaching I saw my mom land safely and smoothly. How great!? I was right behind her - legs up - sliding into "home base" on my bum. The biggest adrenaline rush I had ever experienced swept over me.   


The Verdict
Would I do it again? Absolutely. Would I recommend it to someone else? Check. I would go so far as to say it was life-changing in some ways. It was one of the most thrilling, exhilarating, and exciting things I've ever done. Sharing the experience with my mom made it especially memorable.


My advice: if you have even the slightest inkling that you want to skydive or do anything else that fills you with fear, do it. I promise it will only make your life richer and will instill within you a sense of "yes I can" about every aspect of your life. Skydiving might not be for everyone, but what is your "thing"?


Here's a quote that I found that I think is apropos and one that I love:
"The person who risks nothing, does nothing, has nothing, is nothing and becomes nothing. He may avoid suffering and sorrow, but he simply cannot learn and feel and change and grow and love and live." - Leo Buscaglia