AUTHOR’S NOTE: In case you hadn’t heard yet, skydiving is like dating. Kinda.

Dear Skydiving,

Hi again. Nice to see you. You look handsome today, with your light breeze and baby blues. I missed you. It’s Friday morning, which means it’s the best slash worst time of the week. It’s the best because I’m BEYOND super pumped to come see you. It’s the worst because, before I know it, it’ll be Monday morning and time for me to come back to reality. I’m working on living in the moment, and I’m really good at it when I’m with you, it’s just the rest of the week where I play hurry up and wait that I need to focus on.

I want to learn all about you but I don’t want to be obnoxious about it. I don’t want to rush things, because that’s how people get hurt in this sport. So I’ll do myself a solid and take it down a notch. Roll with the punches, you know? I’ll keep my eyes and ears open and maybe, if we’re lucky, you’ll share another chunk of goodness with me this weekend. You haven’t let me down yet. But seriously, don’t get freaked out when I jump up and down after an awesome skydive. I’m allowed to get ridiculously excited about you.

And that silence when we’re hanging out, usually on the ground because Mother Nature is trying to screw with my patience? Yeah, I’m not so worried about that. I’ve never been the type that has to fill that space. Half of the reason I like you so much is that you’re the polar opposite of anything I’ve ever experienced, so even when we aren’t teaching and learning and doing the whole dance-in-the-sky thing, I’m content. Hopefully you are too. I think you are. You’re cool like that.

Have I told you, skydiving, that I’m straight up and down crazy about you (er.. I mean… you’re a pretty cool dude)? It’s true. You’ve taught me a shit ton about myself and I kinda just want to be around you all the time because I’m addicted to learning and because you’re changing my life one day at a time, even if I’m not up in the air. So, you know, thanks for that.

Oh, and thanks for introducing me to some of the best people I’ve ever known. And for teaching me how to do math as it pertains to skydiving. Like, lunch out every day at work = a weekend of jumping. Duh I’m going to bring my lunch! And for being a solid part of my life, whatever capacity that is right now.

Like I’ve said before, I can’t wait to see where things go from here. 31 jumps so far. Gear is ordered. We’re scheduling trips together (yay for Jump for Diabetes and some tunnel time in Colorado). I’m ready.

Are you?

Blue skies,
Sydney

There have been some interesting posts coming from my friends over at Skydive Addiction about whether or not we should discuss skydiving amongst our friends and family that don’t have this strange desire to throw themselves out of airplanes.

Adam said the people who haven’t done it just don’t get it. For the most part, I think he’s right. I mean, it takes a special species of human to enjoy what we enjoy doing on the weekends.

But, my family gets it. So do some of my friends. Not all of them, but most of them. My friends that get it are people that have something in their life that they’re just as crazy about as I am skydiving. Be it a band, or cooking, or sailing, or whatever, they can identify with my obsession in some capacity because they feel it for something too. They’ll probably never fully comprehend why I prefer to plummet towards the earth at 120+mph, but it’s better than nothing.

My parents in particular are totally on-board and really get it. They know that skydiving saved me from myself. I was in desperate need of a hobby and friends outside of the work slash social media crowd. I needed a change. I needed, well, anything. I needed something to help balance that out so I didn’t burn out. Then I found skydiving.

They understand that it’s a lifestyle change. They understand why I go out there every weekend, regardless of whether or not I’m jumping. Chicago is a fast city. Hinckley is not. I like having both. I can be go, go, go from Monday morning to Friday afternoon and then live my life in slow motion once I get to the drop zone. It’s funny, because in Chicago when we’re making plans, I always have an opinion and am a bit stubborn if plans don’t go my way. In Hinckley, I really don’t care where we go or what we do after we’re done jumping because I make decisions all week long. I like to take a break from being a decision-maker and let it all come together.

My parents also know that a lot of it is the people. Since I’m so quick to make friends and give 110% of myself to these new friends that I deem are worth caring about, my mom is telling me to guard my heart. Who knows what will happen after season is over? Most of my new friends are nomads and follow the sunshine when it gets cold here. Once it’s too chilly to jump at CSC, some of them head to New Zealand, Florida, Arizona, anywhere where they can go instruct during the off-season, and then they come back in March or April. Mom said she’ll be happy to hear that I’m still as happy as I am now in six months, when things shut down here. I tell her I’m not thinking that far ahead because one, that’s not healthy, and two, I’d miss out on all of the awesome that is happening RIGHTTHISSECOND. I don’t want to be sitting around in November wishing I had done XYZ during season but didn’t because I was too concerned about what would happen down the road.

So maybe it’s less about whether or not we should discuss skydiving with non-skydivers, but more about what we discuss and how we should discuss it. Would I ever try to discuss the mechanics of the four-way jump I did on Sunday or try to explain why I keep landing in the corn (despite the fact that I was trained by incredible skydivers) with non-skydivers? Probably not. But can I try to translate my passion for the sport into a language they can apply to their own lives? Absolutely.

For me it’s a lot more of the lifestyle slash philosophy slash personal growth that I get from each jump and each minute spent around fellow skydivers. And, fortunately, that stuff is easy to share with the people who don’t jump out of planes.

If I were in a relationship with skydiving, I’d say we’re playing it fast and loose and things are looking like they could get pretty serious. We’ve already been through a lot together, skydiving and I. We’ve shared my first jump, my first stand-up landing (yay!), my first cutaway, my graduations, many beers after a day full of jumping (perhaps one too many sometimes), my highest highs and my lowest lows. Skydiving has seen me nervous, excited, disgruntled, in the midst of a gigantic adrenaline rush, and totally unfiltered. I’ve invested a lot into skydiving, both time and money, and I’m most definitely reaping the rewards from that.

Skydiving really is like being in a relationship. You only get out of it what you put into it, the newness of it is ridiculously addicting, there are ample opportunities to learn more about yourself, and the high you get after a great jump just can’t be beat.

Before you get into any semblance of a serious relationship, however, you have to test the waters. With skydiving, you’re jumping with different instructors, trying out different canopy sizes and learning a bunch of skills that, when you put them all together, will turn you into a safe, and hopefully awesome, skydiver.

Your first solo jump, much like a first date, is a nerve-wracking experience. You’re all excited as you get dressed for the occasion. You double and triple-check everything to make sure it’s in its proper place before you leave. On the way up, you’re thinking of what you need to do, your plans for this particular experience, and naturally, what to do if things go wrong. You review your emergency procedures and before you know it, you’re there. And you jump. You take that leap and after you do, at least at first, there isn’t any stress. Just freedom. But it’s not over. You have to finish. You have to land safely from the clouds so you can do it again.

Once you land, you analyze every single second of the experience. What went well? What didn’t go well? How can you fix the bad stuff and capitalize on the good stuff? As you continue jumping, you continue to learn. What makes you tick? Are you good at receiving feedback and correcting your errors? Are you asking questions to help you get better or are you just smiling and nodding? How long should you wait before you jump again? Are you moving too fast? Are you moving too slow?

Then you graduate. It’s symbolic. Not like breaking up, but like growing up. You technically don’t need the hand-holding. You start to grow in the sport, and if you’re lucky, you have a handful of people who want to teach you and help you grow to be the best skydiver you possibly can.

Your first licensed jump is like that first big milestone in a relationship. You’re a real, live, certified skydiver. It’s totally up to you to save your own life. It’s also up to you to go after what you want and make it happen. If you want to explore a certain style, you have to make it happen, nobody will do it for you. If there is someone you want to jump with, ask them. If there are people that you think fly like total jackasses, avoid them like the plague.

People will talk. Let them. Listen to what they’re saying. You can learn as much on the ground as you can in the sky.

You’ll have bad days. Days when you can’t jump because you’re too broke or the winds are too high, or worse, you’re injured. You’ll have good days, when everything goes smoothly and you’re just a giggly mess because everything is working out so well. You’ll learn your limits, who to avoid and who you want to stay close to. You’ll identify the type of skydiver you want to be and who believes in you enough to help you get there. You’ll think about skydiving constantly, and you’ll look back at your life before skydiving and laugh when you realize that you weren’t even close to living life to it’s fullest until you took that first jump. You’ll struggle with balancing skydiving and the rest of your life, because all you want to do is jump.

I can’t wait to see where things go from here, both on the ground and in the sky.

25 jumps to my A-license. 25 things on the list. 25 years on this planet. 25 minutes of freefall so far. 25 is looking to be a promising number, and an incredible year.

This weekend, I earned my A-license. I’m coming to find out that this skydiving thing is much, much larger than throwing myself out of airplanes.

There’s a whole lifestyle and attitude adjustment that comes with this sport. Some people only do it once. Some people jump on the weekends. Some people drop everything and make this their life. Regardless of which path you choose (or which path chooses you, perhaps), if you’ve done it at least once, you know exactly what I’m talking about.

The addiction starts with freefall. But it isn’t limited to freefall, though freefall is pretty damn fantastic. For me, it’s a lot of things. I’ve always been incredibly in tune with my senses when it comes to things that I enjoy. In rowing, for example, a huge part of my obsession with the sport was the sound of oars locking and the swish as they came out of the water. With skydiving, it’s the smell of jet fuel. The hot air that blows from the propeller as you get on the plane. The sound of audible altimeters beeping at 1,000 feet and seatbelts coming off. The sound the wind makes when you stick your body out of the plane and that resistance you feel until you let go. And it’s the taste of that first beer after an amazing day of jumping, where you swear beer has never tasted so good.

The addiction isn’t just to the actual sport of skydiving, either. It’s about the people. An environment where everyone is always learning, and regardless of who you are, you’re welcome there. Where there is a really low tolerance for bullshit and assholes. For me, there are a handful of skydivers at the DZ that I feel like I’ve known for much longer than the month I’ve been there. It’s about hearing everyone’s stories about their first jump and how they got to where they are today in the sport, whether they’re a fun jumper, an instructor, or an old-timer who is retired and sharing stories of the “good ole days.”

The addiction isn’t just to the sport itself or the people. It’s also the personal growth that you experience with each and every jump. My first jump was huge because I actually did it. I had been talking for months about how I wanted to get my A License but I had questioned whether or not I’d actually be able to do it. I didn’t know if I’d be able to get stable in freefall or fly the canopy. My graduation jump was nothing short of incredible. The actual skydive, technically, could have been way better – I’m still trying to figure out how to side slide. But that jump totally rocked my world because I did it. I was with the same instructors as I was on my first jump and though it may have been my last jump as a student, it was a day full of firsts.

It was worth the wait. All of the wind and weather holds, sunburns, repeated levels, bruises from hard openings, ridiculous amounts of beer I had to buy, the written and unwritten rules associated with AFF, all of that was worth it. I couldn’t wipe this goofy grin off of my face if I tried. I can’t wait to see where things go from here!

I did it!

Up next: I’m looking for gear. And that bag of cash that I hid somewhere.

If you’re reading this through RSS or on the actual website, then you’re probably the half of my audience that hasn’t ever jumped out of a plane. Or if you have, maybe once or twice. If you’re reading this through Facebook (namely the Freefall University page) then you probably have. That being said, my fourth jump on Saturday was one of, if not the most important jumps of my life.

To skydivers, this post will resonate because they’ll remember their first cutaway, their first thoughts after said cutaway, or, if they haven’t had to chop their main canopy yet, they know someone who has, and can relate to it that way. To my colleagues, professional contacts, friends and family members, this will likely terrify you. Do not be alarmed. I’m alive (obviously). All is well. I’m trained on how to handle these things.

For the sake of semantics, this weekend I almost died. I had a parachute malfunction and had to rely on my reserve parachute to save my life.

But in all actuality, I didn’t. This is where the semantics and audience thing kicks in. To all of my non-skydiving friends, yes, quite literally, I almost died. To my skydiving friends, I chopped, I lived, now I need to buy beer.

I mean, I could have died, yes, but I didn’t. I didn’t die because I knew exactly what to do. I didn’t die because I paid attention during ground school. I didn’t die because my instructors are fantastic. I didn’t die because I’m not an asshole in the sky. I didn’t die because I always have my ears and eyes open and my head on a swivel, both on the ground and in the sky. I didn’t die because there are three people who come to mind as being credited with me not dying, besides myself for pulling the proper cables in the proper order.

I owe way more than a case of beer to my AFF instructors Barry and Chris and to the man that packed my reserve parachute, Eric. Beer, no matter how delicious (Half Acre) or how cheap (PBR), doesn’t even start to cover how thankful I am that I have those three men in my life in whatever capacity they are in it. But beer is the tradition, so that’s fine. There are tons of other people who have been instrumental in my training and success so far in skydiving, but when it comes down to life or death situations and how to get out of them alive, these three come to mind. I’ll spare you the gushing about each of them individually because I already have done so to their faces, but, guys, seriously – thanks a million.

I didn’t (and don’t) want to dwell on this too much because at the end of the day, I’m alive, I’m well, and honestly, totally fine with what happened. To my non-skydiving buddies, you can all officially think I’m crazy now. I know it was up in the air before, but go ahead and coin me as nuts.

Here’s the thing: at the DZ, this doesn’t seem like that big of a deal in comparison to some other malfunctions that have happened. I chopped at a relatively high altitude, giving me plenty of time to make it back safely to the drop zone. I was only spinning for a couple of seconds before I deployed my reserve. I knew EXACTLY what to do, which was calming, and I had 1,500 feet of reserve ride down to take deep breaths and realize that everything was indeed okay.

What’s more? I couldn’t wait to get back up in the air. I took an hour-long break, called my folks, explained what happened and that I was okay, took a nap in my car away from the heat and noise of the DZ and then got back up and did it again. I knew that my malfunction was a packing error, I knew what I did right and wrong on that jump, and I was eager to get up again and prove to myself that sometimes shit happens. And I did. And it does.

My key takeaway? There is always a solution. That, and I highly doubt I’ll be freaking out about the small stuff anytime soon. High five to skydiving for calming me down.

So here’s the video. At 1:10 you can see me start to spin. At 1:15 you hear Matt, my instructor, yell “CHOP IT” because he sees that I have a malfunction. The remainder of the video is Matt landing out so he can grab my main canopy. Thanks Matt!

There’s a lot to be said for going skydiving once. Over the past four weeks I have heard some of the most amazing stories about why people are deciding to throw themselves out of perfectly good airplanes. Last weekend there was a woman who jumped for her 80th birthday. Her experience? She felt closer to God.

And there’s a lot to be said for going skydiving more than once. Once takes a lot of guts, yes, but the people who continue to get up in the air never cease to amaze me. This weekend (so far) I’ve graduated AFF, had my first reserve ride and have bought A LOT of beer. I say so far because if the weather keeps up I’ll have my A-License by Monday.

First, AFF Graduation. So levels six and seven are most definitely fun jumps. You do backflips, front flips and basically just learn how to get stable after being unstable. Woo! Here’s a video of my level seven. A little bouncy, but it’s insane the difference between that jump and my last one yesterday. After level seven, you’re on to coaching jumps – so I’m still jumping with someone, but the difference now is, they won’t save my life. AFF Graduation signifies that your instructors are confident that at the proper altitude, you will pull your own cord and save your own life. No need for someone to do it for you.

Saturday was quite the experience.

I did five jumps yesterday, the fourth one was a reserve ride. I had to cutaway my main canopy because of a spinning line over malfunction. I didn’t have a camera so this image isn’t of my canopy but that’s basically what it looked like:

This malfunction occurs when one or more of the canopy’s lines pass in front of the nose prior to inflation. This causes the canopy to open in a “bow-tie” shape. Once I realized what was going on, my first thought was “what is this called and how do I get out of it?” In ground school, we go through flash cards of images of malfunctions and discuss whether or not they are something you can get out of. I pumped the brakes and nothing, I was spinning. I reached for my cutaway handle and chopped my main canopy. As I reached for my reserve handle, my reserve opened up. The reserve static line (RSL) automatically deploys the reserve when the main canopy is cutaway.

When I went through ground school, we went through the emergency pull procedures OVER and OVER and OVER again. Right before my level one jump, one of my instructors had a spinning malfunction, couldn’t locate his reserve handle and his CYPRES (automatic activation device) fired and saved his life. He told me before we get on the plane, I need to be looking at my reserve before I pull my cutaway, so I can be sure to do the sequence and not miss a handle. Between ground school, the “this just happened and here’s how you get out of it” tips from fellow skydivers, and our amazing reserve riggers, I’m happy to say that I safely landed my first malfunction. Lived to jump another day.

I’ve heard horror stories about how a malfunction can totally screw with your mind. Several people told me yesterday stories of students who had cutaways, freaked out and never returned to the sport. I knew I had to get back up in the air before my mind got the best of me. So I did. Was the jump good? Eh, could have been better. But I did it. Squashed the fear. I’ve said before that there’s a lot of mental empowerment that comes from being able to jump out of planes – the whole “you can do anything if you can do this” idea. Well, if I can get back up in the air after a reserve ride and not freak out, then I can most certainly do anything.

Skydiving is an interesting sport, I tell you. For your first anything, you buy beer. For graduating anything, you buy beer. For milestone jumps, you buy beer. So this weekend, I bought beer for my AFF graduation, my first cutaway and I’m bringing the instructor that packed my reserve beer back from Chicago next weekend.

And when you land a reserve ride, there’s a whole lot of “congratulations” going on. Loads of high fives, “way to save your life twice” comments and a ton of questions, obviously. That’s why the first thing I thought was “what is this called and how do I get out of it?” Primarily, I wanted to save my life, but I knew when I landed people would ask what the malfunction was.

Topping off yesterday’s festivities, we all packed up on the planes and flew down to Skydive Chicago for their fireworks display. Single-handedly the best fireworks display I’ve ever seen in my entire life.

Up next: rounding out my 25 jumps for my A-License. Hopefully with beautiful canopy rides.

Patience is something that I’ve been working on, but continue to battle with on a daily basis.

Except for as it pertains to skydiving.

By nature, it is kind of a waiting game with skydiving. Just because it’s a crystal clear blue sky doesn’t mean that I can go play in it. There are a lot of factors beyond that. Winds and clouds are keeping me on the ground. And I’m fine with it, really. I’ve made a conscious decision that I’d rather be sitting on a picnic table at the drop zone than on my couch at home. If I had stuff to take care of, I could understand getting frustrated after driving all that way to not jump out of a plane. The culture has totally swallowed me whole (in a good way) and it’s not just about jumping out of planes. That being said, I’m totally okay with waiting for pristine skydiving conditions, because as 14 people told me in a span of 30 minutes, I’d rather be on the ground wishing I was in the sky, than in the sky wishing I was on the ground.

It took me three tries to get through level four of AFF. Which, after the first attempt last weekend, I was crazy pissed off at myself for not being able to nail it. I’m determined like that and I tell you what, it’s a blessing and a curse. I’m slowly getting over the whole “I want every jump to be perfection” thing. As my instructor is quick to point out (and I’m quick to forget) I’m new. I’m learning. I landed safely. All is well. Sure there are things I can work on, but at the end of the day, I saved my own life and that’s a win.

So Saturday rolls around and it’s all kinds of gross outside. While waiting for the green light to get up in the air, I learned how to pack, which was really, really exhausting. Mad love to the guys that are staff packers… wow. Later that afternoon I finally get all geared up for my third (and hopefully last) jump for level four. I was jumping with a different rig with a different instructor than I had been training with so I was definitely a bit on the nervous side. Not for the jump itself, but just at the thought that if I keep screwing up these levels, this training is going to get wicked expensive, really fast.

I got a little spooked in the plane when a fellow student started giving me advice. And poking around at my gear. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad he was looking at my stuff and I’m most definitely open to any and all advice when it comes to jumping, but not when we’re climbing to altitude and not when I’m trying to run through how to not screw up this dive. But I passed level four – so that rocks.

Little did I know, the next dive that day would be my best dive since I did my first tandem in 2005. I had been stomping around the hangar after level four, irritated at some of my mistakes but ready to get up and get back in the air. I took a break, grabbed some water and took some deep breaths before getting on the plane. I was ready to fix my mistakes from the last jump and really get stable and rock the crap out of this jump. And I did.

I figured it out. Now, was the jump perfect? No. But I was rocking this big goofy grin right before pull time because I knew that I had done the best jump I had done so far. Remember how I said when I first started that the adrenaline rush is different now? Well this jump was like my first. Once I landed, I was jumping up and down and I couldn’t stop smiling and it was amazing. THAT is what it’s all about.

blue skies!

Giggly during freefall. WEEEE!

So I ended Saturday on a good note. I didn’t want to wear myself out like I had the previous Sunday so I stopped after two jumps and I went into the evening and the next day totally floored to get through levels six and seven.

Sunday was one big weather hold. But, I did get my water training in for when I’m ready for my B License, so that rocks. And I was able to view a demo jump from the plane, as opposed to on the ground.

Now THAT'S a sunset.

So, up next: leave work on Friday and crank out some jumpity jumps! Our office closes early on Friday and we’re closed on Monday, so I’m hoping to get through a good chunk of my 25 jumps before my A License. What were you up to this weekend?

If you’ve been paying attention at all this week, it’s obvious that I was having a teensy crisis of sorts.

I’m blaming my parents. Seriously.

For the past (almost) 14 days, my parents have been selfishly galavanting around the glaciers of Alaska, instead of waiting by the phone for me to call them when I have a minor mid-twenties-semi-crisis-but-n0t-really moment. Clearly they forgot to take their ginkgo biloba and also forgot that their world should revolve around their first born’s world. HELLOOOOOO, we’ve been playing this game for 25 years now!

I’m kidding. Really. Kinda.

But in all seriousness, please don’t worry.

I’d like to shout out (anonymously, for fear that every single 20-something who ever has a problem would soon bombard my wonderful people in an attempt to regain their sanity) to the people that have listened to me sort this all out. Have you ever been on a really awesome rollercoaster? One with 8,000 loop-dee-loops and at least 234 hills? If you’re one of the people I’m saying thank you to, then yes, you have, and it’s like you couldn’t escape it or get your seatbelt off because just when you thought I was done pestering you for advice or 30 minutes to chat, I’d come back having done a complete 180 and push that green button that sends you back around for another lap around the track. Deep breath, that was a long sentence. You guys are troopers. I mean it.

I’d also like to shout out (generally) to the #u30pro group for having a really awesome chat last night. It was so awesome to hear about everyone else’s experiences in this little stage of their lives – and funny thing is, we all lived to talk about it! There’s hope!

So, with that being said – let the sparkles, rainbows, blue skies and rays of sunshine continue to beam from my ridiculously happy (and sunburned) face. I’m blessed to have a community that is in-tune with where I’m at, where I’m going and where I want to end up some day. And for all of you who have had to witness this little patch in person, let’s all hug and high five, okay?

Mom and Dad on the other hand… I have a bone to pick with you.

And for those of you that haven’t seen it – I believe nearly 14 days of not calling my parents on my walk into work is responsible for this mess. Read up on it here. And yes, I know I’m not 7-12 but it totally applies, OKAY?

Remember that one time I moved to Chicago for an internship, dove in head first and kind of forgot to come up for air until Memorial Day weekend of this year? Right, that was my first year here. And it was totally awesome, don’t get me wrong, but this skydiving thing has completely and totally rewired my brain.

It’s rewired how I look at things in several ways; how I check the weather, how I reach for my handles in the order that I’d pull them when I’m wearing my backpack, and how I feel about my free time. It’s so much more than jumping out of planes. Skydiving, like many of my newly found adrenaline-junkie mentors told me this weekend, is a lifestyle change.

I’ll spare you from getting really into the rah-rah part of it, about how now I can tell myself that I literally can do ANYTHING since jumping out of planes is what I like to do in my spare time. That’s a good chunk of it. And that’s some powerful stuff. But what’s more the community aspect of it. I have never, EVER, in my life walked into a place and felt more at home and accepted and not having to change the way I talk, think, behave, or interact with people. When I’m at the drop zone, that is when I’m really, truly unfiltered.

Nobody there cares what I do for a living. Nobody there cares about what I’m wearing (unless we’re talking about rigs and jumpsuits and helmets and altimeters, then they care, but not about the other stuff). It is the most unpretentious, warm environment I’ve ever been exposed to. Couple that with a sport that totally and completely relaxes me, and you can see why I’m addicted.

I’ve got the bug and I’ve got it bad. The past two weeks have been challenging as I start to figure out how to have a life outside of my office. Without kids or a spouse (or boyfriend, or anything resembling a relationship, for that matter), I was totally okay with working my face off. I enjoyed it. A lot. And now, I’ve found something else that I’m crazy about, beyond just work.

If you know me, you know that I love what I do. I’m insanely immersed in and obsessed with the digital/social/emerging media world. I love this blog, I love networking, and I most certainly love learning from the best and the brightest, no matter where they are, or where they come from. I never thought I’d have as much drive and passion about skydiving (or anything else for that matter) as I do about the work that I do. It’s really, really interesting to watch it all unfold.

On Sunday, I got through levels two and three of AFF with no problem. I hit all of the components of the dive flow, I corrected mistakes that I made in previous jumps, and I had two awesome stand-up landings. Level four got me though. Barry (my instructor) was wearing a camera and the battery died, so it was hard for me to remember what was happening, and I couldn’t see my mistakes. So I repeated level four.

When I was done with my fourth jump on Sunday, I was angry. I landed short of the drop zone in the corn field. I couldn’t figure out how to get stable in freefall. I wanted to get back up and do it again but I knew I was too tired. I had met my limit for the day. I probably should have stopped at three jumps, but that’s part of learning.

And the best part about the whole thing is, there is ample room for learning and everyone is ridiculously supportive because they’ve all been there. One of the reasons I love this sport so much is that every single person that asks me about the dive has a tip for how to get better. They don’t send me off and tell me to ask someone else. They don’t tell me to ask other students for the answers. They pause, listen to my questions, and answer them thoughtfully. Every single person is there to help me grow in the sport. And everyone has a story about making the same mistakes, and they’re not afraid to own the fact that they too were once a student. There are some skydivers at CSC that have thousands of jumps. They don’t walk around like they own the place.

And they’re not this awesome because they aren’t busy. They are busy. Most of the instructors are doing 10-15 jumps per day on a steady day. They harness up their students, review the procedures with them, get on the plane, jump out, land, and do the same thing with the next student. It’s nonstop. And they still manage to pause to take time to help everybody else out.

I’m sure not all dropzones are like this, but I’m happy that mine is. It’s like one big happy family. And it really makes me excited for the weekends.

Up next: I am going to nail level four (third times a charm, right?) and ::crossing fingers:: hopefully get through AFF this weekend. Then it’s on to solo jumps. And saving for my own gear.