I walked to the very edge of the abyss and took a long, deep breath.
It was just a feeling in my gut, the one deep down like a log in the bottom of your stomach, right beside your intestines. It sits there, unmoving, knowing that you’re about to make one of the worst decisions of your life. It gnaws at you – forcing you to remember every little thing that could go wrong. A cord breaking, too much wind, a simple fold not being where it should be, your instructor falling unconscious above you… Those images and dozens of others flash behind my eye lids as I close my eyes to breathe.
Breathe in, breathe out. Relax.
Harness on, strapped tightly to my instructor behind me – almost as though we were one organism – we lumber to the door, shuffling awkwardly past the other benches where the other jumpers had previously sat. When you get to the door, the wind takes hold and whips my hair back, and I cross my arms over my chest, hands on each shoulder. Kind of ironic, as that’s the position you take in a coffin.
One more deep breath. Okay.