There's a lot to be said for crying alone. I personally need it once in a while. I can cry for as long as I want or need. I can be as loud as I want, look as disgusting as I want, have snot all over the place. I can be calm for a few moments and then break out in sobs again. I don't have to worry about someone being uncomfortable and feeling like they need to fix things. I don't have to stop for someone else...I stop because it's time to.
So, I cried for a half hour this morning. It wasn't because it is September 11 - I did enough crying for that at the time. I cried because I was coming to terms with the fact that I can't continue skydiving (and also a little bit of dealing with the fear I felt). Writing that, it seems so shallow, but oh well. I've been numb since Saturday, and thinking about everything, and talking over it somewhat with people. It just moves too quickly for me. I've felt rushed since day 1, lesson 1, and I've managed to keep up somewhat, but doing two dives in a day just blew me over the edge.
The problem is I don't have a trust fund. I didn't win the lottery. I don't have unlimited funds. In order for me to be able to do this in a way that I can deal with it, I think I'd need double the amount of skydives that they require. I need more time talking over the issues and concepts, and the instructors don't have that time. I need more hand holding.
I will of course go back for one more skydive. Pride. I don't want to be known as the chick who gave up because she had one bad skydive. Wussy girl. And I want to say bye and thank you to the crew, since they are good people.
Why did I cry so much? Because I feel weak. I acknowledge my weaknesses, but I don't like them. My brain is weak and my body is weak. Yes, everything is relative, and I'm much stronger than some people. But sometimes I feel 'challenged' (hence the name Special Kay - I have this personal joke that I'd name my kids Kay and Ed, and they'd be very 'special'). It makes me feel sad...but at least I'm un-numbed.
[Thinking about this more, it has to be more than what I wrote above. I think I'm coming down off my last several months of stress...]
Showing posts with label skydiving. Show all posts
Showing posts with label skydiving. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Overstimulation - or jumps 4 and 5
So, this weekend I did two jumps in one day. I caved to peer pressure, and also just thought I'd try it because maybe I was wrong about needing to only do one jump in a day. I was there, the weather was great, I had no special reason to head home early, so I stayed.
Well, depending on how you look at it, it was either good or bad.
Jump #1 went fine and dandy.
Jump #2 didn't.
Although it sucked in one way to have a bad jump, in another way, as someone said, it was about time I ran into trouble up there so I could know what I would do, wouldn't do, could do, should do, etc.
Jump #1 was scheduled to be a repeat of the last one, though this time with only one instructor. I wrote last time about how nervous I was with the thought of going out with only one person. Well, when I first got there I saw one of my past instructors and as I chatted with him I said how nervous I was. He showed me the technical thing I should do when I exit to make sure I exited well (extending legs).
And then it turned out the Gnome was there. So of course I had to jump with the Gnome. We had had a back and forth on mental tricks, and so he focused more on the mental side of jumping, and relaxing. On the plane we just kind of sat there, and it was a new experience not having someone check in constantly and go over signals. I thought it was just a lazy Gnome thing, but turns out this jump is the starting point for becoming more independent, as in the second jump I was also left alone a bit.
The Gnome started on the outside and I was left inside alone to do the check in/out, and then read set arch. And it was fairly uneventful. Weird to have a Gnome hovering beside me, but that's it (of course, he only tells me later that he had to push my arm somewhat to make sure I didn't go backwards - see story below). I noticed when he let go, and all was fine, and all I had to do was fall. (altitude, arch, legs, relax). Pull time came quickly, and my chute was open.
The winds were calm and all was well, and I did great in my landing. I could have landed feet up, but had wanted to practice a parachute landing fall, so I fell over, and was not a problem. The Gnome came over and showed me what to do with the brake handles to make the chute packers's life easier (and thus like you more), and we walked on back.
I ate lunch. A much too heavy lunch (pork bbq) - picked up at the local gas station, next door to which is a house with a porch facing the station, upon which sat two old men in rockers, watching life go by. I waved, they waved. Back at the ranch, someone put on Robot Chicken as I was preparing for jump 2, which got me in trouble by my instructor. Supposed to be preparing to jump! Go check your gear! Oops...but it did help to have one of the images in my head to make me laugh along the way.
Jump #2 (first jump in D category) I had to do my first spotting from the plane to check and make sure we are in the right place. That means standing by the open space, looking at the horizon in front of you then down 90 degrees, then looking to the right or left at the horizon, then down 90 degrees. This is to see exactly where you are in relation to the ground, and to know that you are exiting the plane where you want to exit (depending on calculations of wind speed, direction, etc.).
But I got the whole deal. First off I was sitting on the front floor of the plane near the exit, rather than on a bench. Not used to that, and you have to be more aware of not bumping into things and accidentally pulling some essential cord. Then I learned about the light signals, and learned I would help open the door when the time came. Sitting by an opening holding on to nothing... He reminded me what he had said about the wind is more likely to push you back in at that point. Still scary. And with the door open, holding onto a bar, and searching for where you want to start jumping. We weren't going to be the first out either, so we had to scoot out of the way, and then suddenly it's time to jump.
Too much BBQ. Not enough mental prep. Too many new strange things. And I jump, the one instructor lets go of me, and I don't arch correctly, and I flip, not once but twice. Luckily I had asked the Gnome what I should do if I mess up the exit. And no matter what is happening with you, if you simply go into a relaxed arch, you will right yourself. And I did. Holy crap.
Then I had to be reminded to do my practice touches, and did them. I needed to pull my head together to perform the tasks assigned in this category: namely to turn 90 degrees to the left and right. It's a simple concept - you just lower one elbow and you will move in that direction. The trouble is, if you move it too fast or forget how to correct yourself, you'll keep going around, and around. Like a spinning record.
The problem also was that because of the tension of the botched exit (and yes, I'm bad and think more of the botched exit rather than the fact that I recovered), and the fact that I wasn't able to stop myself well on the turns, I was not relaxed. And then I started doing what they call potato chipping, which is kind of like making waves with your body. VERY disturbing. The instructor would signal for me to relax and I would for a second and then become Lays again. The trouble was too that very quickly 6000 feet came and I was supposed to pull at 5,000 this time. Well, I was having a hard time seeing my altimeter because I was vibrating so much, and I focused too much on seeing that I was at the right altitude than I was on the fact that I needed to pull, so I pulled a little late.
Then you are supposed to clear your mind and focus on the tasks under canopy. Ok, that's fine. One of the things you do at this level (D) is learn to use your risers to steer and not your handles, in the event of a malfunction of one of the brakes. I did two 90 degree turns and that was it.
The problem was that day that the winds were variable. As we had been walking to the airplane, the dihedral (which rotates according to wind direction and thus shows which way to land) rotated 180 degrees, so though we had a plan set up, it was important for me to know which direction the wind was blowing. And for the life of me when I was under canopy I could NOT see the dihedral. Thankfully there is also a wind sock in a another location, and thus I had some idea. And although I know that I can look and see how others are landing and land in that same pattern, I was afraid to rely on that because the wind was so variable (I had SEEN it change 180 degress in a few seconds!).
The radio man was on but he was letting me do my own thing, and said he would only chime in if I needed help. I wanted to yell back - talk to me now! So, I basically just hovered over the landing area, trying hard to figure out what to do. I guessed, and did fairly ok.
I landed hard in a semi parachute landing fall (PLF) - kind of forward rather than to the side. And felt really queasy. I had to stand still for a moment to make sure I didn't vomit right then and there. But then walked reallllly slowwwllly carrying my stuff to the hanger. Put it down, and sat down for a while to ease my stomach. Wondering as I sat whether my brain and body could really handle skydiving. I'm still not sure, as I slept 10-11 hours last night, and just woke up from a nap.
I'm not sending this one to my mom... :-) She did know I jumped and had lit a candle for me, but only one, so maybe it's because I hadn't told her about the second!
Well, depending on how you look at it, it was either good or bad.
Jump #1 went fine and dandy.
Jump #2 didn't.
Although it sucked in one way to have a bad jump, in another way, as someone said, it was about time I ran into trouble up there so I could know what I would do, wouldn't do, could do, should do, etc.
Jump #1 was scheduled to be a repeat of the last one, though this time with only one instructor. I wrote last time about how nervous I was with the thought of going out with only one person. Well, when I first got there I saw one of my past instructors and as I chatted with him I said how nervous I was. He showed me the technical thing I should do when I exit to make sure I exited well (extending legs).
And then it turned out the Gnome was there. So of course I had to jump with the Gnome. We had had a back and forth on mental tricks, and so he focused more on the mental side of jumping, and relaxing. On the plane we just kind of sat there, and it was a new experience not having someone check in constantly and go over signals. I thought it was just a lazy Gnome thing, but turns out this jump is the starting point for becoming more independent, as in the second jump I was also left alone a bit.
The Gnome started on the outside and I was left inside alone to do the check in/out, and then read set arch. And it was fairly uneventful. Weird to have a Gnome hovering beside me, but that's it (of course, he only tells me later that he had to push my arm somewhat to make sure I didn't go backwards - see story below). I noticed when he let go, and all was fine, and all I had to do was fall. (altitude, arch, legs, relax). Pull time came quickly, and my chute was open.
The winds were calm and all was well, and I did great in my landing. I could have landed feet up, but had wanted to practice a parachute landing fall, so I fell over, and was not a problem. The Gnome came over and showed me what to do with the brake handles to make the chute packers's life easier (and thus like you more), and we walked on back.
I ate lunch. A much too heavy lunch (pork bbq) - picked up at the local gas station, next door to which is a house with a porch facing the station, upon which sat two old men in rockers, watching life go by. I waved, they waved. Back at the ranch, someone put on Robot Chicken as I was preparing for jump 2, which got me in trouble by my instructor. Supposed to be preparing to jump! Go check your gear! Oops...but it did help to have one of the images in my head to make me laugh along the way.
Jump #2 (first jump in D category) I had to do my first spotting from the plane to check and make sure we are in the right place. That means standing by the open space, looking at the horizon in front of you then down 90 degrees, then looking to the right or left at the horizon, then down 90 degrees. This is to see exactly where you are in relation to the ground, and to know that you are exiting the plane where you want to exit (depending on calculations of wind speed, direction, etc.).
But I got the whole deal. First off I was sitting on the front floor of the plane near the exit, rather than on a bench. Not used to that, and you have to be more aware of not bumping into things and accidentally pulling some essential cord. Then I learned about the light signals, and learned I would help open the door when the time came. Sitting by an opening holding on to nothing... He reminded me what he had said about the wind is more likely to push you back in at that point. Still scary. And with the door open, holding onto a bar, and searching for where you want to start jumping. We weren't going to be the first out either, so we had to scoot out of the way, and then suddenly it's time to jump.
Too much BBQ. Not enough mental prep. Too many new strange things. And I jump, the one instructor lets go of me, and I don't arch correctly, and I flip, not once but twice. Luckily I had asked the Gnome what I should do if I mess up the exit. And no matter what is happening with you, if you simply go into a relaxed arch, you will right yourself. And I did. Holy crap.
Then I had to be reminded to do my practice touches, and did them. I needed to pull my head together to perform the tasks assigned in this category: namely to turn 90 degrees to the left and right. It's a simple concept - you just lower one elbow and you will move in that direction. The trouble is, if you move it too fast or forget how to correct yourself, you'll keep going around, and around. Like a spinning record.
The problem also was that because of the tension of the botched exit (and yes, I'm bad and think more of the botched exit rather than the fact that I recovered), and the fact that I wasn't able to stop myself well on the turns, I was not relaxed. And then I started doing what they call potato chipping, which is kind of like making waves with your body. VERY disturbing. The instructor would signal for me to relax and I would for a second and then become Lays again. The trouble was too that very quickly 6000 feet came and I was supposed to pull at 5,000 this time. Well, I was having a hard time seeing my altimeter because I was vibrating so much, and I focused too much on seeing that I was at the right altitude than I was on the fact that I needed to pull, so I pulled a little late.
Then you are supposed to clear your mind and focus on the tasks under canopy. Ok, that's fine. One of the things you do at this level (D) is learn to use your risers to steer and not your handles, in the event of a malfunction of one of the brakes. I did two 90 degree turns and that was it.
The problem was that day that the winds were variable. As we had been walking to the airplane, the dihedral (which rotates according to wind direction and thus shows which way to land) rotated 180 degrees, so though we had a plan set up, it was important for me to know which direction the wind was blowing. And for the life of me when I was under canopy I could NOT see the dihedral. Thankfully there is also a wind sock in a another location, and thus I had some idea. And although I know that I can look and see how others are landing and land in that same pattern, I was afraid to rely on that because the wind was so variable (I had SEEN it change 180 degress in a few seconds!).
The radio man was on but he was letting me do my own thing, and said he would only chime in if I needed help. I wanted to yell back - talk to me now! So, I basically just hovered over the landing area, trying hard to figure out what to do. I guessed, and did fairly ok.
I landed hard in a semi parachute landing fall (PLF) - kind of forward rather than to the side. And felt really queasy. I had to stand still for a moment to make sure I didn't vomit right then and there. But then walked reallllly slowwwllly carrying my stuff to the hanger. Put it down, and sat down for a while to ease my stomach. Wondering as I sat whether my brain and body could really handle skydiving. I'm still not sure, as I slept 10-11 hours last night, and just woke up from a nap.
I'm not sending this one to my mom... :-) She did know I jumped and had lit a candle for me, but only one, so maybe it's because I hadn't told her about the second!
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Leadership, Confidence, Fear
I woke up early early this morning, and couldn't get back to sleep because I had made some realizations and couldn't get them out of my head. I was too lazy to get up and type them on the computer, so I finally had to write them down. Seems all the expletives yesterday came out for a reason.
Realization 1: Leadership and confidence
If I'm going to be doing something challenging, and be taught how to do it, I need to have faith, trust, confidence in the people teaching me. I need them to be leaders who inspire and instill confidence. I can forgive some mistakes, like when someone calls me Denise instead of my real name, because he really does know what he's doing, but others I can't. One of the instructors yesterday not only bounced me around in freefall unnecessarily, but also couldn't get me seated in the right spot on the plane without an issue. Sorry, I'm not going to trust my life with you. Two strikes and you are out. If they try and have him be my one instructor, I'll walk away without a backwards glance. I realize there are two, maybe three, people at this place that I'll go forward with alone from hereonin. (because in the next stages, you only have one instructor)
Realization 2: Fear
I hate the exit from the plane. Not because of jumping, but because of the disorientation. I need to find some way to deal with it better, and will work with instructors (and perhaps the Gnome has suggestions) to deal with it better.
Realization 1: Leadership and confidence
If I'm going to be doing something challenging, and be taught how to do it, I need to have faith, trust, confidence in the people teaching me. I need them to be leaders who inspire and instill confidence. I can forgive some mistakes, like when someone calls me Denise instead of my real name, because he really does know what he's doing, but others I can't. One of the instructors yesterday not only bounced me around in freefall unnecessarily, but also couldn't get me seated in the right spot on the plane without an issue. Sorry, I'm not going to trust my life with you. Two strikes and you are out. If they try and have him be my one instructor, I'll walk away without a backwards glance. I realize there are two, maybe three, people at this place that I'll go forward with alone from hereonin. (because in the next stages, you only have one instructor)
Realization 2: Fear
I hate the exit from the plane. Not because of jumping, but because of the disorientation. I need to find some way to deal with it better, and will work with instructors (and perhaps the Gnome has suggestions) to deal with it better.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
The making of a porn star: Jump 3 (warning: expletives)
As usual, you are told to arrive before 8:00 am and as usual you are sitting around for a while waiting for everything to get started. Along with climbing, at least when you are learning skydiving, you cannot expect efficiency with time. If the low number of instructors isn’t going to suck up time, weather inconsistencies will. Today was kind of nice because there were so few people there in the morning I was able to relax a little and actually talk to other people (I am an introvert and thus sometimes have a hard time with large groups, especially if I don’t feel I belong). Heard about the 90 year old woman that skydived there a few weeks ago for her birthday. Cool! Tandem of course.
So, by now you know all about the general process of skydiving. I’m on category C, where you start separating from your instructors, or rather they start separating from you. As they said, Category C is one of the easiest categories because you really don’t have a task except to relax. And work on your form in freefall.
I kidded with the guy who called me Denise on my descent last time; I’m supposed to change my name to that to make his life easier. And the two instructors I was jumping with I had jumped with before, so that was nice. Perhaps I was a little too comfortable because when setting up my gear I was chatting with one and I think he was double checking my name, and I told him what it was. Then I said he could also use Denise, my porn star name – and a guy nearby kind of looked at me incredulously. (OK, I was NOT saying people should fuck me -- haven’t you received that email ever that says your porn star name is your pet’s name as a child and the name of the street you grew up on?).
ANYWAY. Scene 2: Location: In the plane. Everything is fine, blah blah blah. My instructor is chatting with the guy next to me – blind guy doing a tandem jump. Cool. Then I look at one of the people up front on the floor (these are the people jumping first, and are the ‘fun’ jumpers – people who have their license and jumping for fun) and I see a cockroach crawl along his jump suit collar. Let me tell you, cockroaches FREAK me out when I’m not prepared for them [I’ll be writing a story about them]. I just turned to the wall of the plane and repeated over and over, holy fucking shit. And laughed that crazy sort of laugh when you feel you are going insane. But it was also to get it out of my system so I could concentrate.
Scene 3: Location: In the air. This time when I jumped I felt like I was flipping on my back, which really freaked me out, and I thought I was starting off horribly (found out later we exited kind of vertical – very bizarre because I could have sworn I was upside down). So went through the normal procedures – altitude check, three touches to the pull cord – and while I’m doing that the guy on my right signals for the guy on my left to let go of me. Well, that kind of distracted me. I felt like I blanked a bit, but started with the altitude (check), arch (check), leg (just check, don’t play superman), relax, repeat.
And apparently the guy on the right let go too, because then I started to rotate left and right. They had said this would likely happen some because a beginner has a hard time controlling their movement. But I kind of felt like a ping pong ball or something – or I know – a voltage meter! – coming up against a battery and then moving back (because I don’t think I ever rotated more than 90 degrees total and it was along a single plane). Again I thought I was doing horribly. (turns out the instructor on my left was being a little overeager in correcting my movement) Soon enough it was 6,000 feet and I had to pull at 5,500.
Scene 4: Location: Under canopy. My chute goes up and all I start yelling is fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. And there’s noone around! This is supposed to be a porn movie! Oh wait, no, it’s not. OK, so I was yelling that because I thought I had messed up. And let that thought get the better of me, so did not concentrate well at all under canopy and in my landing, so didn’t do a great job. A VERY important lesson is learned – your skydive is not over until you are on the ground. I think I let myself go a little because I knew I had someone on radio who could talk me down. But I also had just let my concentration go a little because I was mad at myself, and that’s a no no. Stupid stupid. Note my last rock climbing post about how a large percentage of people are hurt coming down from a climb.
I get down into the hangar and I’m still beating myself up internally (thinking but not yelling fuck me), and one instructor comes up to me and said I did an excellent job. I looked at him in disbelief (can you read my mind and so are being nice and want to fuck me?). Now, these guys (and they generally are guys, at least there) tend to use superlatives, but I thought that was even over the top for a superlative-using instructor. But no, he said he thought it was the best category C he had jumped with. Unbelievable. He had to say it a couple times. Well, you live and you learn. Or you die.
BTW, some people I had met during my initial class, or even after, are much further along than me, or even done with the process. Let me ask how you approach swimming in the ocean, or cold water in general. Are you the type of person who runs and jumps right in, or do you, like me, take it a little bit at a time? It can seriously take me a half hour to get into cold water. All these other people like to jump right in. But I like the speed I’m going at. I can reflect on the jump and be relaxed for next time. If there is a next time. But there will be. They made me buy the book, finally, and now must do my book studying. But that’s kind of like the wave that catches you when you are trying to go slowly – they made me buy the book, and I’m a little more committed.
BTW2, I have spoken with at least two skydivers who, when they hear that I rock climb, say they don’t think they could do it. Funny I think.
And on the way back in disgusting traffic, I called my mom and told her. I felt guilty about not telling her last time. And, I guess it's like the rat that gets used to being shocked. She just asked me how it was. And told me she wants to know ahead of time next time so she can light a candle for me.
I didn't tell her about the guy who showed up at the drop zone today who had had a horrible landing and broke his pelvis in half and broke off his tailbone. Which also gives me something to think about.
BTW3: This post is dedicated to my porn movie co-star. Her comment from my last post: I finally went sky-diving (tandem) for the first time about 6 weeks ago. My knees were weak from hours afterwards (that only usually happens to me with an amazing orgasam, so that's what I'm comparing sky-diving to). I instantly was obsessed with going back to make my first real jump, but quickly decided that unless I was going to go through the entire process, it wasn't worth it. And since I'm seriously thinkng about buying a condo, I decided not to spent the money. So consider me living vicariously through you on that front, and I'm looking forward to hearing all about it.
So, by now you know all about the general process of skydiving. I’m on category C, where you start separating from your instructors, or rather they start separating from you. As they said, Category C is one of the easiest categories because you really don’t have a task except to relax. And work on your form in freefall.
I kidded with the guy who called me Denise on my descent last time; I’m supposed to change my name to that to make his life easier. And the two instructors I was jumping with I had jumped with before, so that was nice. Perhaps I was a little too comfortable because when setting up my gear I was chatting with one and I think he was double checking my name, and I told him what it was. Then I said he could also use Denise, my porn star name – and a guy nearby kind of looked at me incredulously. (OK, I was NOT saying people should fuck me -- haven’t you received that email ever that says your porn star name is your pet’s name as a child and the name of the street you grew up on?).
ANYWAY. Scene 2: Location: In the plane. Everything is fine, blah blah blah. My instructor is chatting with the guy next to me – blind guy doing a tandem jump. Cool. Then I look at one of the people up front on the floor (these are the people jumping first, and are the ‘fun’ jumpers – people who have their license and jumping for fun) and I see a cockroach crawl along his jump suit collar. Let me tell you, cockroaches FREAK me out when I’m not prepared for them [I’ll be writing a story about them]. I just turned to the wall of the plane and repeated over and over, holy fucking shit. And laughed that crazy sort of laugh when you feel you are going insane. But it was also to get it out of my system so I could concentrate.
Scene 3: Location: In the air. This time when I jumped I felt like I was flipping on my back, which really freaked me out, and I thought I was starting off horribly (found out later we exited kind of vertical – very bizarre because I could have sworn I was upside down). So went through the normal procedures – altitude check, three touches to the pull cord – and while I’m doing that the guy on my right signals for the guy on my left to let go of me. Well, that kind of distracted me. I felt like I blanked a bit, but started with the altitude (check), arch (check), leg (just check, don’t play superman), relax, repeat.
And apparently the guy on the right let go too, because then I started to rotate left and right. They had said this would likely happen some because a beginner has a hard time controlling their movement. But I kind of felt like a ping pong ball or something – or I know – a voltage meter! – coming up against a battery and then moving back (because I don’t think I ever rotated more than 90 degrees total and it was along a single plane). Again I thought I was doing horribly. (turns out the instructor on my left was being a little overeager in correcting my movement) Soon enough it was 6,000 feet and I had to pull at 5,500.
Scene 4: Location: Under canopy. My chute goes up and all I start yelling is fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. And there’s noone around! This is supposed to be a porn movie! Oh wait, no, it’s not. OK, so I was yelling that because I thought I had messed up. And let that thought get the better of me, so did not concentrate well at all under canopy and in my landing, so didn’t do a great job. A VERY important lesson is learned – your skydive is not over until you are on the ground. I think I let myself go a little because I knew I had someone on radio who could talk me down. But I also had just let my concentration go a little because I was mad at myself, and that’s a no no. Stupid stupid. Note my last rock climbing post about how a large percentage of people are hurt coming down from a climb.
I get down into the hangar and I’m still beating myself up internally (thinking but not yelling fuck me), and one instructor comes up to me and said I did an excellent job. I looked at him in disbelief (can you read my mind and so are being nice and want to fuck me?). Now, these guys (and they generally are guys, at least there) tend to use superlatives, but I thought that was even over the top for a superlative-using instructor. But no, he said he thought it was the best category C he had jumped with. Unbelievable. He had to say it a couple times. Well, you live and you learn. Or you die.
BTW, some people I had met during my initial class, or even after, are much further along than me, or even done with the process. Let me ask how you approach swimming in the ocean, or cold water in general. Are you the type of person who runs and jumps right in, or do you, like me, take it a little bit at a time? It can seriously take me a half hour to get into cold water. All these other people like to jump right in. But I like the speed I’m going at. I can reflect on the jump and be relaxed for next time. If there is a next time. But there will be. They made me buy the book, finally, and now must do my book studying. But that’s kind of like the wave that catches you when you are trying to go slowly – they made me buy the book, and I’m a little more committed.
BTW2, I have spoken with at least two skydivers who, when they hear that I rock climb, say they don’t think they could do it. Funny I think.
And on the way back in disgusting traffic, I called my mom and told her. I felt guilty about not telling her last time. And, I guess it's like the rat that gets used to being shocked. She just asked me how it was. And told me she wants to know ahead of time next time so she can light a candle for me.
I didn't tell her about the guy who showed up at the drop zone today who had had a horrible landing and broke his pelvis in half and broke off his tailbone. Which also gives me something to think about.
BTW3: This post is dedicated to my porn movie co-star. Her comment from my last post: I finally went sky-diving (tandem) for the first time about 6 weeks ago. My knees were weak from hours afterwards (that only usually happens to me with an amazing orgasam, so that's what I'm comparing sky-diving to). I instantly was obsessed with going back to make my first real jump, but quickly decided that unless I was going to go through the entire process, it wasn't worth it. And since I'm seriously thinkng about buying a condo, I decided not to spent the money. So consider me living vicariously through you on that front, and I'm looking forward to hearing all about it.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Jump #2 / Just call me Denise
So, like I thought, I went for another jump. On Saturday. Though the weather was at first looking iffy, I decided to drive the 1.5 hours.
My day started off with a guy asking me, as I was getting stuff out of my car, if was so-and-so’s mother. I just looked at him and said, no, and you did so NOT make my day. He tried to dig himself out of the hole by saying that she looked really young. I just laughed. The rest of the day any time he would see me he’d kind of look sheepish.
No matter what level of student you are, the first thing they do in the day is have you practice what you do when your chute opens. The people who are newer or haven’t been there in a couple weeks like me go through many scenarios, while the others go through fewer. This was the first time I had done this in a group with higher level students, so I learned quite a few new things about different possible scenarios and what you should do in those situations. Dangers I hadn’t yet thought of… though the instructor said in his thousands of jumps he only had to go to his reserve once, and because he had always practiced what to do, instinctive muscle memory made it all turn out fine.
So since this was a category B jump, I had much much less training to go through, and then I was placed on the second plane load. The difference in the second jump is that you are learning to be aware of your leg position and the impact it has. What you have to do is go through a cycle of looking at your altimeter, then checking your arch, then straightening your legs out, and then bringing them back in.
Fast forward to being on the plane. So, on this second jump you still have a person on either side of you holding on. Did the whole ready, set, arch. And off you go. My problem is that I had (and am getting rid of) the idea that you really need to bring your legs in to have a good arch. That is not the case. I kept getting signals to straighten my legs and never did it quite enough. I also thought one of those signals was telling me to do my practice touches again (I’m not the best at finding the pilot chute pull either), so by the time I started the new exercise it was 9,000 or 8,000 feet.
So I did the straighten legs, and the way cool thing is that when you straighten your legs there’s more force/drag against them, and it makes you fly forward like superman! Dragging along the people holding onto you. Zoom… And the exercises really did the job. When I went back into my arch after the two cycles I was able to do, I was much much better.
So, very quickly it’s 6,000 feet, and I have to pull. One thing I learned in the morning was the concept of staying in your arch after you pull since it takes a little bit for the chute to go up, and that really seemed to make a difference. Another thing that made a huge difference was eating a bunch of ginger chews before I left. I had no nausea when my chute opened. Yay! And this time I saw the landing area, so that was good. And although I had a radio, I never heard my name called, and so I had thought they had forgotten me. It wasn’t until I was about to land that I realized the whole time he had been calling me Denise. But I’ll get back to that.
So, not hearing my name, and being told before I left to only listen when I heard my name, and thinking that noone is talking to me, I tried to figure it out on my own. I knew where I had to go, but misgauged how long it would take me to get there at the right altitude, because the wind was blowing the complete opposite direction from the last time. What was really strange is that I was looking for other jumpers/chutes, and I could only see the shadow of one near the landing area. Not the actual person/chute, perhaps because it was so hazy. And btw, it’s a much better experience when you aren’t feeling queasy. I got to look around and do a few little turns, so that was good.
So, I knew I wasn’t going to make the landing area, and I started looking for where I should land. So, headed towards the soccer field. There are light posts on either side, but enough space to land, as long as you avoid the soccer posts/nets. Once I heard the person say soccer field, I finally figured out he was talking to me, not some other Denise (which is not my name, obviously). So this is like 100 feet off the ground. Thanks bud! But I really only listened to him at the very end (last 10 feet) because he was telling me to go straight down the middle of the field, but I was afraid I’d hit one of the goals. And I landed fine. When I got inside, and handed over my helmet and radio, I said to him, um, my name is X. He said, oh, guess that explains why you weren’t responding. It was fine though. (And one of the instructors later said they never had a radio… so I guess I was learning old school style…)
So, in my debrief, I heard about what comes next. Um, I might need to go one more time. My husband doesn’t really care too much, though he says if I continue I should get a special life insurance policy so he gets some money if I go splat – though he insists that the way it will work is that I’ll bounce and then splat, but I gotta research that.`
It's very strange. I had friends say to me that I am an adrenaline junkie because of this. But I'm not. I just find it really really interesting. I tried to liken it to golf today - where it seems so simple but there's really a lot of complex factors to do it right. Yes, I know there's a major difference between jumping out of a plane and hitting a ball on a golf course. Maybe it is more like climbing - people think adrenaline junkies do that also, but it's really a very peaceful sport - requires focus and knowledge and correct movement. It's fairly zen. I'll think about it and see if I can explain it better later.
My day started off with a guy asking me, as I was getting stuff out of my car, if was so-and-so’s mother. I just looked at him and said, no, and you did so NOT make my day. He tried to dig himself out of the hole by saying that she looked really young. I just laughed. The rest of the day any time he would see me he’d kind of look sheepish.
No matter what level of student you are, the first thing they do in the day is have you practice what you do when your chute opens. The people who are newer or haven’t been there in a couple weeks like me go through many scenarios, while the others go through fewer. This was the first time I had done this in a group with higher level students, so I learned quite a few new things about different possible scenarios and what you should do in those situations. Dangers I hadn’t yet thought of… though the instructor said in his thousands of jumps he only had to go to his reserve once, and because he had always practiced what to do, instinctive muscle memory made it all turn out fine.
So since this was a category B jump, I had much much less training to go through, and then I was placed on the second plane load. The difference in the second jump is that you are learning to be aware of your leg position and the impact it has. What you have to do is go through a cycle of looking at your altimeter, then checking your arch, then straightening your legs out, and then bringing them back in.
Fast forward to being on the plane. So, on this second jump you still have a person on either side of you holding on. Did the whole ready, set, arch. And off you go. My problem is that I had (and am getting rid of) the idea that you really need to bring your legs in to have a good arch. That is not the case. I kept getting signals to straighten my legs and never did it quite enough. I also thought one of those signals was telling me to do my practice touches again (I’m not the best at finding the pilot chute pull either), so by the time I started the new exercise it was 9,000 or 8,000 feet.
So I did the straighten legs, and the way cool thing is that when you straighten your legs there’s more force/drag against them, and it makes you fly forward like superman! Dragging along the people holding onto you. Zoom… And the exercises really did the job. When I went back into my arch after the two cycles I was able to do, I was much much better.
So, very quickly it’s 6,000 feet, and I have to pull. One thing I learned in the morning was the concept of staying in your arch after you pull since it takes a little bit for the chute to go up, and that really seemed to make a difference. Another thing that made a huge difference was eating a bunch of ginger chews before I left. I had no nausea when my chute opened. Yay! And this time I saw the landing area, so that was good. And although I had a radio, I never heard my name called, and so I had thought they had forgotten me. It wasn’t until I was about to land that I realized the whole time he had been calling me Denise. But I’ll get back to that.
So, not hearing my name, and being told before I left to only listen when I heard my name, and thinking that noone is talking to me, I tried to figure it out on my own. I knew where I had to go, but misgauged how long it would take me to get there at the right altitude, because the wind was blowing the complete opposite direction from the last time. What was really strange is that I was looking for other jumpers/chutes, and I could only see the shadow of one near the landing area. Not the actual person/chute, perhaps because it was so hazy. And btw, it’s a much better experience when you aren’t feeling queasy. I got to look around and do a few little turns, so that was good.
So, I knew I wasn’t going to make the landing area, and I started looking for where I should land. So, headed towards the soccer field. There are light posts on either side, but enough space to land, as long as you avoid the soccer posts/nets. Once I heard the person say soccer field, I finally figured out he was talking to me, not some other Denise (which is not my name, obviously). So this is like 100 feet off the ground. Thanks bud! But I really only listened to him at the very end (last 10 feet) because he was telling me to go straight down the middle of the field, but I was afraid I’d hit one of the goals. And I landed fine. When I got inside, and handed over my helmet and radio, I said to him, um, my name is X. He said, oh, guess that explains why you weren’t responding. It was fine though. (And one of the instructors later said they never had a radio… so I guess I was learning old school style…)
So, in my debrief, I heard about what comes next. Um, I might need to go one more time. My husband doesn’t really care too much, though he says if I continue I should get a special life insurance policy so he gets some money if I go splat – though he insists that the way it will work is that I’ll bounce and then splat, but I gotta research that.`
It's very strange. I had friends say to me that I am an adrenaline junkie because of this. But I'm not. I just find it really really interesting. I tried to liken it to golf today - where it seems so simple but there's really a lot of complex factors to do it right. Yes, I know there's a major difference between jumping out of a plane and hitting a ball on a golf course. Maybe it is more like climbing - people think adrenaline junkies do that also, but it's really a very peaceful sport - requires focus and knowledge and correct movement. It's fairly zen. I'll think about it and see if I can explain it better later.
Monday, July 16, 2007
You never forget your first time / Leap of Faith / How does the Gnome DO it?!
So, rather than a pithy intro to this, it's a longer one (as is the whole post). It's for all of those who might care about the continuing storrrry of a woman separated from her husband. (I'm really getting old - I don't remember the reference for that.) Anyhoo, so at the end of last weekend, my husband and I had verbally mutually agreed to live by these terms we had both written up for moving forward (slate is wiped clean, will communicate more, will have fun, etc., though much more articulately written). So I wrote him friendly emails Monday, blah blah. I heard little to nothing from him either via email or by phone until Thursday morning. I think by Tuesday evening, I in my head said fook you, I'm not keeping my weekend free for you. And since I mentioned earlier that I was interested in flying again, I decided to go skydiving this past weekend. If a gnome could do it, so could I...
I kind of knew what I was getting into because around 10 years ago I went tandem. I thought at the time that was fine for me, in part because the guy I was attached to almost made me vomit with flying the chute at sharp angles. And it's so expensive. But then I saw the buzzards flying recently, and I remembered what it was like to fly when I went hanggliding, and decided that I needed to skydive again, but this time with me 'totally' in control. I was actually more interested in the part after the chute opens, but of course, I wanted to learn it all, and duh, you need to also.
So driving there, I played relaxing music but when I saw the airport, I wondered what the hell I was doing. There were 4 other students in my class - two women and two men. The two woman paid up front for the entire certification ($3,000-ish), and the guys and I just paid for the first level. We and our heirs signed all the requisite forms, and we got started. I thought it was a little funny that the first instructor we had uses a wheelchair. Here's what can happen to you boys and girls! But that was just a mild passing thought, as he, like all the other instructors conveyed information in a clear and repetitive way. (Repetition is the key to learning in a one day course!)
Once we finished the class at 1:30-2:00 ish, we sat around and waited. If you are doing Accelerated Free Fall as this class was, you can't jump when winds are above 15 mph, and it was gusting regularly to that, and several huge dust devils had sprung up earlier. So you get to sit and watch the tandem jumpers go up and come down with huge smiles on their faces, and watch the videographers scream down from the sky to land running, watch the parachute packers pack chutes, watch the videographer spin in circles out back to record footage for the videos, watch the skydive teams practice exiting the 'plane' and then go do tricks up high, shooting out like fireworks to separate from each other enough to open chutes... All of that is very interesting, but after 3.5-4 hours, you just want to get the damn thing over with!
So, it ended up that the winds weren't going to die down, and I left to come back the next morning. I was first on the roster - wee ha! And so I had to do the juggling I always have to do when climbing - eat enough to maintain myself, but not too much so that I barf if I feel queasy. Drink enough to be hydrated, but not so much that I'll have to pee 10 minutes later. And wait until the last possible second to pee. So, got all my gear, got suited up, and headed to the plane to jump on my own. NOT. You have two people surrounding you the entire time approaching the plane to when you pull your chute.
I was impressed with the numerous safety checks throughout the whole process up to the jump. A necessary thing when doing things like climbing and scuba diving, but also very reassuring. The plane I was in had two benches and people straddle the bench one in front of the other - sandwiched. I thought it most appropriate that there was a sticker on the wall near me - the universal symbol of 'do not do this' (circle with a line through it) over a person-like figure with gas coming out of its butt. In the morning I can follow this pretty easily, but woe to those around me after lunch and in the evening. (Better living through Beano.)
I liked how they get you used to looking at your altimeter on the way up. 'Tell me when it's 3,000 feet, etc.' And they tried to show me where the landing zone was from the airplane... But anyway, at 13,500 the door opens and people start pouring out. Thankfully I know how to get into the zone or else I may have been petrified. And thankfully I could ignore one of the guys' earlier comments that they as a team had finally worked out their kinks jumping with such students as me, so if anything went wrong it would be my fault. Just kidding...
Anyway, so you stand there, check in and out, and then 'ready''set' JUMP. Holy crap. What a weird sensation. It felt like I was going feet first and I have no idea how I got into the arch you need to freefall - I guess that's why there are two guys on either side? It certainly is a leap of faith that the two instructors will get you through it all. Mistake #1 was not looking up enough when I jumped, so I didn't arch quite enough. I checked my altimeter like you are supposed to, told altitude left and right, and then started my butt checks (actually, you're reaching for the chute handle so you know where it is). Then I get a signal in my face and I know it means something but I can't process it quickly enough - and I get another signal which means to do three good butt checks and I'm still trying to process the first signal! And falling falling falling falling.... So anyway, I straightened my legs with some assistance (first signal), did three butt checks (second signal), checked altimeter and it was already at 7,000 feet!
A pause in the story to say when they do class on the ground, and you are going through the whole process to the point of pulling the chute, they make it seem like you can go reallllly slowly (relatively), and have a couple thousand feet to hang out. HA! THAT'S CRAP! In reality, if it's not a perfect perfect jump, before you know it you have to pull the chute out.
Anyway I think I had a few seconds to look down and see the ground coming up - so weird! - and then it was 6,000 feet when you keep looking at the altimeter, and then 5,500 when you have to pull. I still had a little problem finding the pull thingie (the practice fanny packs have the cord much higher than the one on my chute, so my muscle memory messed me up) so I had to be guided and then it was out and I was 'stopped'.
My chute opened up fine and then I had to deal with queasiness while I tried to find the landing area. They have an arial view of the drop zone and they go over the most likely landing pattern and the landmarks, and I saw NOTHING of that. Well, turns out I was facing the wrong direction. The guy on the ground guided me via radio and I followed the pattern almost perfectly. It's amazing how fast you are still falling - I thought there's no way I'd be down far enough to land where I was supposed to, but 1,000 feet, and 600 feet, and 300 feet came quickly. And an almost perfect landing - woo hoo! It's not that quiet with the chute - it's flapping in the breeze and stuff, so definitely not the same experience as hanggliding. But interesting nonetheless.
So, they said I did a good job, and all I could think of was what I could have done better. I said I wanted it to be perfect, which I did. But in reality, that cannot happen, and you have to flow with the mistakes...and learn from them. So, I may need to go one more time...
Oh, I kind of busted one of the guys' bubble on the ground. He, being the addicted skydiver that he is, said that he tells his students that it's the best experience you will ever have, and people agree, don't you? Well, I told him that it actually ranked pretty equally with hanggliding. Should I not have told the truth? I felt a little bad, but it was the truth.
But, I must admit, I lied to my mom. I'm certainly going to hell. But it was for a good reason! I talked to her Saturday morning to help distract myself, and she asked if I was going climbing, and I said yes. OK, well have a great time! I think it's pretty damn funny though that she's all fine with me going rock climbing, another dangerous sport.
So, that was most of my weekend. I think I remember every single little detail of the jump, and though you may think I wrote down every single little detail, I didn't. I've already been writing over an hour, and it's time to do some work!
Oh, but wait, the Gnome - how the hell can a short stumpy Gnome skydive well?
I kind of knew what I was getting into because around 10 years ago I went tandem. I thought at the time that was fine for me, in part because the guy I was attached to almost made me vomit with flying the chute at sharp angles. And it's so expensive. But then I saw the buzzards flying recently, and I remembered what it was like to fly when I went hanggliding, and decided that I needed to skydive again, but this time with me 'totally' in control. I was actually more interested in the part after the chute opens, but of course, I wanted to learn it all, and duh, you need to also.
So driving there, I played relaxing music but when I saw the airport, I wondered what the hell I was doing. There were 4 other students in my class - two women and two men. The two woman paid up front for the entire certification ($3,000-ish), and the guys and I just paid for the first level. We and our heirs signed all the requisite forms, and we got started. I thought it was a little funny that the first instructor we had uses a wheelchair. Here's what can happen to you boys and girls! But that was just a mild passing thought, as he, like all the other instructors conveyed information in a clear and repetitive way. (Repetition is the key to learning in a one day course!)
Once we finished the class at 1:30-2:00 ish, we sat around and waited. If you are doing Accelerated Free Fall as this class was, you can't jump when winds are above 15 mph, and it was gusting regularly to that, and several huge dust devils had sprung up earlier. So you get to sit and watch the tandem jumpers go up and come down with huge smiles on their faces, and watch the videographers scream down from the sky to land running, watch the parachute packers pack chutes, watch the videographer spin in circles out back to record footage for the videos, watch the skydive teams practice exiting the 'plane' and then go do tricks up high, shooting out like fireworks to separate from each other enough to open chutes... All of that is very interesting, but after 3.5-4 hours, you just want to get the damn thing over with!
So, it ended up that the winds weren't going to die down, and I left to come back the next morning. I was first on the roster - wee ha! And so I had to do the juggling I always have to do when climbing - eat enough to maintain myself, but not too much so that I barf if I feel queasy. Drink enough to be hydrated, but not so much that I'll have to pee 10 minutes later. And wait until the last possible second to pee. So, got all my gear, got suited up, and headed to the plane to jump on my own. NOT. You have two people surrounding you the entire time approaching the plane to when you pull your chute.
I was impressed with the numerous safety checks throughout the whole process up to the jump. A necessary thing when doing things like climbing and scuba diving, but also very reassuring. The plane I was in had two benches and people straddle the bench one in front of the other - sandwiched. I thought it most appropriate that there was a sticker on the wall near me - the universal symbol of 'do not do this' (circle with a line through it) over a person-like figure with gas coming out of its butt. In the morning I can follow this pretty easily, but woe to those around me after lunch and in the evening. (Better living through Beano.)
I liked how they get you used to looking at your altimeter on the way up. 'Tell me when it's 3,000 feet, etc.' And they tried to show me where the landing zone was from the airplane... But anyway, at 13,500 the door opens and people start pouring out. Thankfully I know how to get into the zone or else I may have been petrified. And thankfully I could ignore one of the guys' earlier comments that they as a team had finally worked out their kinks jumping with such students as me, so if anything went wrong it would be my fault. Just kidding...
Anyway, so you stand there, check in and out, and then 'ready''set' JUMP. Holy crap. What a weird sensation. It felt like I was going feet first and I have no idea how I got into the arch you need to freefall - I guess that's why there are two guys on either side? It certainly is a leap of faith that the two instructors will get you through it all. Mistake #1 was not looking up enough when I jumped, so I didn't arch quite enough. I checked my altimeter like you are supposed to, told altitude left and right, and then started my butt checks (actually, you're reaching for the chute handle so you know where it is). Then I get a signal in my face and I know it means something but I can't process it quickly enough - and I get another signal which means to do three good butt checks and I'm still trying to process the first signal! And falling falling falling falling.... So anyway, I straightened my legs with some assistance (first signal), did three butt checks (second signal), checked altimeter and it was already at 7,000 feet!
A pause in the story to say when they do class on the ground, and you are going through the whole process to the point of pulling the chute, they make it seem like you can go reallllly slowly (relatively), and have a couple thousand feet to hang out. HA! THAT'S CRAP! In reality, if it's not a perfect perfect jump, before you know it you have to pull the chute out.
Anyway I think I had a few seconds to look down and see the ground coming up - so weird! - and then it was 6,000 feet when you keep looking at the altimeter, and then 5,500 when you have to pull. I still had a little problem finding the pull thingie (the practice fanny packs have the cord much higher than the one on my chute, so my muscle memory messed me up) so I had to be guided and then it was out and I was 'stopped'.
My chute opened up fine and then I had to deal with queasiness while I tried to find the landing area. They have an arial view of the drop zone and they go over the most likely landing pattern and the landmarks, and I saw NOTHING of that. Well, turns out I was facing the wrong direction. The guy on the ground guided me via radio and I followed the pattern almost perfectly. It's amazing how fast you are still falling - I thought there's no way I'd be down far enough to land where I was supposed to, but 1,000 feet, and 600 feet, and 300 feet came quickly. And an almost perfect landing - woo hoo! It's not that quiet with the chute - it's flapping in the breeze and stuff, so definitely not the same experience as hanggliding. But interesting nonetheless.
So, they said I did a good job, and all I could think of was what I could have done better. I said I wanted it to be perfect, which I did. But in reality, that cannot happen, and you have to flow with the mistakes...and learn from them. So, I may need to go one more time...
Oh, I kind of busted one of the guys' bubble on the ground. He, being the addicted skydiver that he is, said that he tells his students that it's the best experience you will ever have, and people agree, don't you? Well, I told him that it actually ranked pretty equally with hanggliding. Should I not have told the truth? I felt a little bad, but it was the truth.
But, I must admit, I lied to my mom. I'm certainly going to hell. But it was for a good reason! I talked to her Saturday morning to help distract myself, and she asked if I was going climbing, and I said yes. OK, well have a great time! I think it's pretty damn funny though that she's all fine with me going rock climbing, another dangerous sport.
So, that was most of my weekend. I think I remember every single little detail of the jump, and though you may think I wrote down every single little detail, I didn't. I've already been writing over an hour, and it's time to do some work!
Oh, but wait, the Gnome - how the hell can a short stumpy Gnome skydive well?
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