"You're going to fly a parachute one day."

"Ready, set, go!"

The first time I went skydiving I said I was doing it for several reasons. Like many virgin jumpers, part of my motivation was that whole living life to the fullest mentality. It was something I always wanted to try and if I didn't like it at the very least I could say I went skydiving once in my life. I had also been going through a rough time in my life and figured given what I had been through this was nothing.

Those three little words were my queue to arch back as we had been instructed to do in the training course and later with our instructors. So I did exactly that. In less than the blink of an eye we were in the air flying. I can still see the vantage point change from clouds right in front of me to the ground below and then to the horizon. I could feel the air rushing into my mouth and my throat drying up. I thought to myself "I need to close my mouth and swallow," but I couldn't stop myself from smiling. Next thing I knew I got the signal.

It isn't a secret I enjoyed my first time jump. I believe I've made reference to that several times on this blog. Though I had been before, I did have concerns going into this second jump. This time they centered around the fact that it was a year later and though life wasn't perfect it was nothing like last year. I wasn't in the middle of a life crisis put simply. Also, this time I was no longer a virgin and I couldn't say I was doing this for the experience. What if my memories had been jaded by that "first time" mindset? Lastly, there would be no additional jumper with us to document the event. This time all I would see is, well. . . everything, including the ground below. A slight sense of panic had entered my mind.

The signal was a simple one - a thumbs up. That meant we had stabilized and it was time for me to go through my two practice checks. I would take my hands from what they called a "lazy w" (both arms up in the air, but not fully extended) and put it into a "s" formation. My left arm would swing into the air half bent to check my altimeter while the right one would swing down to feel for the golf ball attached to the rip cord. After check number one, my arms would swing back to a lazy w and then instantly go back to the s one last time. After that, I could just enjoy the ride until it was time to pull the cord.

There were two things about this jump I wanted to do differently from the last one. The first dealt with our actual departure from the plane. During my first jump I had cheated and closed my eyes so I didn't have to actually see what was going on those first seconds of the decent. I knew it was the only way I was going to get myself out of that plane. The other thing I wanted to do differently had to do with my form. In the pictures from my first jump I could tell that I was tense. My hands were clenched into tight fists as I was flying through the air. On the first jump Sparky had had me hold onto the harness as we left the plane. This time he wanted me to put my arms in the lazy w position as soon as we got up to the door. I'm guessing this was to get me more comfortable with the whole concept of jumping out of a plane so next time I went up I could do it on my own. I was kind of glad this was the case because it helped me with my goal of keeping my hands open.

Hand and eyes open - I was ready to go.

My two initial checks would take place within the first 1000 feet or so of our decent. After that I could enjoy the ride as long as I periodically checked my altimeter for the magic number - 6,500.

10,000 . . .

9,000 . . .

7,000 . . .

Somewhere around 7,000 feet I started checking my altimeter even more frequently than I had before. 6,500 feet was right around the corner and not too long after 5,500 feet (the altitude at which I was suppose to pull the rip cord) would sneak up on me. Before I knew it 5,500 feet had arrived. I waived my arms in the air which was the sign to my instructor that I was about to pull the cord. Then my right arm reached behind me, grasped the golf ball and pulled the cord.

The panic I speak of left my mind just as quickly as it had entered. Oddly enough, it left as soon as we exited the plane. They say you go from 13,000/14,000 feet to 5,500 feet in a matter of 60 seconds. It doesn't feel that short of a time. It feels much longer. During that time there is so much that passed through my head . . . I had to make sure I did all the checks I was suppose to do and I was trying to take in everything around me.

Pulling the cord this time seemed a bit harder than last time, but in the end the chute deployed. Next thing I knew I felt the jerk up in the air and my instructor congratulated me on a successful free fall.

"This is even better than the first time," I exclaimed. The next 5 - 7 minutes would be pure heaven. The view was amazing. I won't try to describe it because I couldn't do it justice. You just have to see it for yourself.

As part of the jump, the instructor went through how the handles worked and how we would inevitably stop ourselves once we got back to the ground. However, this time I was the one holding onto the handles. OMG! I was now in control of this puppy. Since I had control I decided to try a spin or two since they had talked about it in the training class. The harder you pulled the faster and more intense the spin would be. My spins weren't that intense, but the instructor's were. At one point we were spinning paralleled to the chute. It was a lot of fun.

After we had played a bit I started asking lots of questions about how you control the direction of the chute. That's when I heard the words I never thought I would. The instructor said, "You're going to fly a parachute one day." I replied back with the simple question of why they said that. Apparently the types of question I was asking tipped them off.

We spent the remainder of the decent talking about how to control the chute and the types of things you need to look out for. As we neared the ground I was told to raise my legs up in a sitting position . . . we would be landing on our butts this time around and ride the ground until we stopped.

"Even better than the first time," I exclaimed as we came to a halt and I was released from the harness.

You either love it or you hate it. There is no in-between.

I've talked to many individuals after their first jumps and have yet to find someone who is just impartial. As for me, it's no secret - I love it. My second jump just confirmed what I had already known.

People either think it's cool or crazy that I'm in to skydiving. That is another thing that there is no in-between on. I was a bit concerned to tell my mom about this last jump, but after telling her I discovered I had nothing to fear. She said as long as we keep to a "don't ask; don't tell" agreement she was fine. She won't ask when I'm going next and I won't tell her what I've done until I've done it. This works well for me! Funny enough, after I told her she asked if I had more pictures. Got to love mom!

After much consideration, my long term goal is to get an United States Parachute Association A-class license . . . and possibly further licenses that would one day allow me to become an instructor myself. When I will do that is the question. On my drive home, I decided I can now label myself as a skydiver.

Now if I can just figure out a way to knit and skydive at the same time!

Until later. . .