Reflections of falling down

A week has passed and I've been through a range of emotions.

To start with, elation, that I'd done it.  The experience was awesome - as in 'I was full of awe'

• for the team that do that every day with hundreds of people of all shapes and sizes.  They were so reasssuring throughout, accepting that people would have different issues with the activity.  So skilled and professional.  So well prepared.  So thoughtful. 

• for the views from the plane before we jumped, and for the views from the ... well, sky, as we were descending.  Truly a birds eye view.  I've always wanted to fly - this is about as far as I guess I can go.

• For the patience of my husband, who did his best not to show how nervous he was.


• For the amazing feat of landing without a bruise or bump.  A few grass stains on the seat of my boiler suit.  No broken legs, coccyx, burst blood vessels, ruptured lungs, altitude sickness...  I still can't believe that I came off so unscathed.

• And awesome was the name for my instructor Nick, who managed to manhandle me and connect me and basically stop me from doing anything that would hurt myself.  Wow.

Some photos arrived on Wednesday.  You may have already noticed some of them...

I was a little dismayed about some of the bulges - but I knew that the boiler suit wasn't going to be flattering.  It wasn't the boiler suit anyway that caused the bulges, it was the straps on the harness.  And I'd rather have those nice and tight...

Still, I have some great pics to show just what it was like.

In fact, it was curious.  Of course the pics were of me, not from my POV.  So they show a different side of it than I remember.  In fact I had a 'moment' where it nearly got emotional.  Somehow, it was as though I had dreamt it, and as each day went on, the memory faded and I could no longer prove to myself that I did achieve what I did achieve.  Frightening really, how quickly memories fade.

The photos made it real.  There was the proof - I was there, up there, out there, down there.  I did do it, in spite of my inconsistent and decidedly flaky memory.

And yet as I've collected the sponsor money this week, people have asked questions, and I've relived bits of it over and over.  Each person asked a different question and got a different response.  Some of the points were a revelation to me as I told the story.  That was curious too.  I thought I would get bored of telling the story, but about 30 times later in a week has not proved it, as there is so much to tell (considering it was only 15 mins up and 5 mins down).  I kept swinging between anti-climax and re-living it all over again.  Rather a lot of highs and lows then.

So lots of reflections took place this week. 

I've nearly collected all the money now, and will total up when the last few people are back from holiday.  Then, and only then, can I truly relax.

And decide.... what next???

I did it!

In spite of my over active imagination running riot, I did it.  Jumped (was man-handled) out of a plane at over 9000 feet, free-falling for about 10 seconds.  Maybe longer - it went in a flash.  Then the trainer pulled the parachute and it opened successfully - landing 5 mins later on my bottom (as planned) in a crop circle.  In one piece.  All body parts intact. 

I can't believe I've done it - the whole thing happened so quickly and is just a memory.  Quite a vivid one, I have to say!

We had a short wait while others went up.  Three pairs had their jumps postponed due to bad weather at previous attempts, so they went first.  Two of us were new, - the other girl having only found out she was jumping at 7am when her partner woke her with her birthday present - 'you are doing a parachute jump today.  You need to get up.' She didn't have time to get nervous (but admitted she was an adrenalin junkie anyway...) - I did...  But I hide it well....

And even had time to blog a bit while we were waiting.

The weather was so perfect it was untrue.  Not cold at all at the top.

High points - Hanging - yep, that's what I meant - outside the door of the plane while my tandem partner got ready. 

Seeing the Isle of Wight through the heat haze.  The Solent.  Having Salisbury Cathedral pointed out to me, (but I didn't quite place it) and seeing Stone Henge from the airplane - all worth having on their own.

All systems go - and falling head over heels - and seeing the plane fall away from me upside down!!!!
Then stabilising, and assuming 'the position'.  No not that position you 'orrible lot - the belly to earth freefall position.  feet crossed and up backwards, arms out to the side - free to wave at the camera, and give the very definite thumbs up.  The noise of the air rushing past us.  Deafening.  And the feel of the air on my face, with air rushing around my goggles and making my eyes stream.  Difficult to watch (or fear) the earth rushing towards you when you feel like you are crying with exhileration.

Then holding the harness again and the chute opening.  Silence.

The peace. The weird sense of freedom - even though the harness will prob have left a bruise.  Difficulty breathing a little, so the instructor loosens the chest strap.  Actually, he asked was I (having difficulty breathing) and I realised I was - but hadn't noticed until then.

Then he handed me the control handles and showed me how to turn to one side then the other.  I did a spiral!!!  Purposefully.  I promise, it was...

And then all too quickly, we were approaching the tent and circle mown in the grass indicating our landing zone.  And we were down.  Nick (the instructor) disconnected the harness as we landed, and I was alone.

I can't believe it - 3 months of planning, all gone in a brief flash of time.  A wonderful, inspirational all-encompassing feeling of achievement.

The Skydive South Coast guys were wonderful.  Friendly, welcoming, reassuring and professional, but relaxed and funny.  Total support - I can't recommend them highly enough. 

I've got some photos coming shortly, so I'll share them when I get them.  For now all I have is the picture Nick (husband) took from below.  I'm the white spec at the bottom.

Oh, wow.  I was so nervous - and doing my best not to show it (although I bet some of you spotted it).  But it felt so very exhilarating - the extra risk is, I guess, what makes it have that extra buzz.

I've stopped shaking now...

:)

Calm

First few have landed safely with big grins. Off to get kitted up in a mo.
Calm.

The day

I'm here!!!!!
The sun is up,weather conditions are perfect apparently. Not a cloud in the sky and no wind. Could have spotted that - well, here on the ground anyway. The first flight has gone up and we're watching it as a spec upon the blue.

I just asked nick and cam what to write on my palms for the camera. Cam said "hi" on onehand and "five" on the other.
Nick said "www." on one and "GOCB.co.uk" on the other. Oh really!

First parachutes have opened now and they are sweeping down gently to earth.
I've had my 20 mins training. It sounds so easy....

And the first ones are down. Now they have to walk back. It looks about a mile. Still, the adrenaline should breeze me through that. I just have to check there are no injuries and I'll be happy. I think.

Real and Rational Fears Part II

It's a very real fear of mine that time is slipping quickly away and suddenly THE JUMP IS ALMOST HERE!  And I haven't even finished my risk assessment yet. 

The time thing is real though.  It really is disappearing into the mist and I feel life is slipping away.  Each moment wasted is ... a moment wasted.  I suppose that's part of the whole jump thing anyway.  Making the most of every moment and doing those - Pop Culture Interlude Alert - 'bucket list' things.  Everything you've always wanted to do, and some things you never wanted to do but think would be good to do anyway.  And some things that just sound cool on the list.  And cheap things.  Almost everything on my list is really quite expensive... how did that happen? 

Anyway, the time difference between east and west is looking very favourable right now - perhaps if I fly endlessly round the world the wrong way, I can get back some of the time I've lost.  Or perhaps not.  Perhaps I should just realise that this happens to everyone, and I need to get used to it.  Oh well.  Mid life crisis well in situ, so I'll continue.

I'm nearly there.  I think I've lost the required weight, and then I find that what I was led to believe on one document was wrong, and actually I was well under the maximum weight all along!!!!  Good - yet bad.  Irritating, yet pleasing.  If I've not lost one more pound, I won't be thrown off the jump.  And good, as I did lose the weight, and it's been needed for ages.  And more.

What I will show some slight irritation about though, is BAD ADMINISTRATION.  Apart from anything else, the charity may well have put people off who would otherwise have volunteered to jump on their behalf.  Which is bad.  But hey, it's ok for me this time so I'll live with it. And I'll let them know nicely too.

So, I feel like I've already won a prize.  My clothes are looser, my whole body feels better.  I've got a bit of extra energy.  And I know that I can do it.  No dieting, no fads.  Just good, ole' fashioned healthy eating, and a few nice yummy treats occasionally, and the odd meal out.  Still a challenge, and not there yet, but GO GIRL!

And regarding the risk assessment, well, I have to place my trust in the people operating the scheme - their dedication and hard work and experience.  I'll give it my best shot. 

The weather forecast is good too!

Real and Rational Fears Part I

I suppose I should really consider what could go wrong with this mad scheme of mine.  In all business manuals, health and safety documents, and lifestyle magazines they recommend you do a full risk assessment of your proposition – before starting.  Assess the job, work out what could go wrong, and plan the best way of avoiding those things going wrong; then act according to your risk assessment to minimise the risk of danger/adverse effects.

In other words, look at the box you want to shift.  Can you avoid the task? Assess its weight, shape and size, before you touch it.  Look at where you want to take it.  Use safety equipment where possible to minimise the risk of injury.  Plan your task.  Action it.  Review it.

Ok, so perhaps this is a bit extreme – but then for me, it’s an extreme thing I’m going to do.  So here goes:

1)      Look at what I’m going to do.  Can I avoid it?  YES OF COURSE I CAN.  I really don’t have to do this at all. Jumping out of a moving plane in the sky attached to a bloke (or lady) is not part of my essential daily life, like breathing, eating, sleeping, etc…  The most sensible option would be to perform an avoidance technique and not do it at all.

At the very least, I can always run away screaming on the day.  (The screaming being only for effect you understand – this is not compulsory and could need its own risk assessment to ensure no vocal chords were damaged in the making of this escape plan).

But two problems with avoidance.  (A) I’ve already said I would do it.  And I don’t go back on my word.  This is my challenge, and if I back out now, I’d hate myself for a very long time for being a wimp.  I’m sure I can think of a number of things where I already either disapprove of my actions or consider myself a wimp – so I really don’t want to add to the list.  In the words of BA Barracus ‘Get some nuts Man’.  Which would work better if I was a bloke, but you know what I mean…

And (B) a lot of people have already sponsored me, and even those that haven’t (including the Charity beneficiaries) – I can’t really disappoint them.

So avoidance is out.  Option considered and rejected.  Tick.

2)      Assess the task before you start.  Ok, done.  Now what.  Oh, alright then – I’m not in denial, I promise.  I have to admit though, I did not really think all the options through before I said I would do this.  Time for a reality check – just what could go wrong?

a.       The plane could crash.  Slim chance I guess… but possible.  I hope that the company are doing all the relevant checks on the engines, wings, fuselage, cabin, stewardess, packet peanuts etc. to ensure that I get up to the required height safely. 

b.      The jump out of the door goes horribly wrong.  Engines, cables, flames, eeek.   That’s enough of that one.

c.       Air pressure problems.  A friend of mine once reported that a Giraffe climbed partially up to Machu Pichu in Peru with her.  She carried on with him for a while because his conversation was better than her Trek partner.  However, eventually the novelty wore off, and she worked out that his lack of knowledge of the African plains was due to him being a product of altitude sickness, rather than that he lived in Regent’s Park Zoo.  She carried on climbing anyway though – well, she’d got that far – she really didn’t want to give in (just as stubborn as yours truly then…).  It was only when they were joined by a Polar Bear called Albert that she told the Trek Doctor.  Of course this is a joke (and no giraffes or polar bears were harmed in the making of this anecdote) but she did see giraffes, and hallucinations are the least of the problem.  Breathing could be an issue…  Air Pressure – you never really know what it’s going to do to you till you get up there.  So, the decision is – go, or not?  Well I've always quite liked giraffes....

d.      The parachute doesn’t open.  Biggie this one.  And something that I have very little control over.  This is total trust in some complete strangers – the guys who pack the parachutes and check the equipment have my life totally in their hands, as without all this working properly, it is certain death.  It is, of course, in their interests not to kill me (or one of their parachutists) – it would be slightly bad for business.  Well, if nothing else, their insurance premiums would go up rather a lot – and I’m sure they don’t want that.  And all those inspections from risk adjustors and insurance claims officers – I’m thinking that alone would be worth trying to avoid a parachute not opening.   And there is a safety chute I understand.  Let’s hope the jump isn’t on Friday 13^th… two failures would just be bad luck.

e.       The landing is in the wrong place. 

                                                              i.      Say on top of a tree/house/factory.  Pine needles where you really don’t need them.  Or slates skittering everywhere, and then falling off the roof.  That would be a blow – to think you’d got down safely and then fall off your landing platform…  Not to mention the embarrassment of landing on some poor pensioner’s bungalow, and having to ask for a ladder to get down.  I get a picture of that whole fighting your way out of the parachute and strings thing too…

                                                            ii.      Or there’s a landing in a river or the sea.  I won’t be wearing my swimming costume or any life jacket, and there won’t be one of those bouncy castle slides to whizz down (without your shoes and hand luggage) – so I’m guessing it will hurt.  Like the pain of a belly flop into the pool from the top diving board.  I could always try to do that pointy toes thing, or if going head first, the ‘lock your hands together’ thing they try to teach you in diving class.  I was never very good at diving though – I’m not very aerodynamic anyway, and was never brave enough to test the upper boards.  Too much belly to flop on!  (There – I can now recall that I used to do risk assessments even back then….)

                                                          iii.      Or even safely in a field, but miles away from where I should be – er – ‘has anyone got a phone?  I need to get back to Salisbury…. And er, I took all the money out of my pockets before I jumped…’  ‘Oh, I guess I could be having my first hitch-hiking experience then….’

Oh, I won't look like this though - it's October for heavens sake!

f.       Or the quite likely ‘bad landing’.  Of all the above this is the most probable danger.  Landing heavily because of my weight – hmm, yes, this could be a big problem.  I’m doing what I can, but I’ll still be at the upper end of the weight plan.  Broken legs, gruelling spiky bones poking through organs.   Hmm – nice.  Dislocated shoulders are, I’m told, likely if you have a weakness there.  Torn tendons and ligaments: possible.  Sprains, bruises, very likely.  If nothing else, the straps under the crotch are likely to chafe a little….

Well - bruises, sprains etc I can cope with.  Breaks - I've never had a cast so I guess my bones aren't that brittle.... time to test that one.  Anything more, and I'll not really be around to think about it....

So this Risk Assessment is really going well.  I'm now in a right state, having thought through all those lovely possibilities.  However, my chin is still up!  Just. 

....to be continued....

The Beer Goggles Strategy

My fundraising is now going well. In addition to the fantastic pledges of my work colleagues, many of my history buddies have also contributed to the pot.

I spent a very interesting evening in the Beer Tent at Herstmonceux Castle on Sunday Night - at England's Medieval Festival in Sussex.  I have trouble comprehending just how many people have been touched by cancer - so much that they will contribute to a localised hospital Chemo Unit - which is far away from where they live. As I said in my speech (short, succinct as all my speeches are..... No, really, they are..... Oy! Stop sniggering) I've lost far too many good friends to adequately describe how much it affects us, wherever we are in the UK. And so many more have been 'eaten', changed, or lost loved ones. The worry, the pain, the hardship, the despair, the ridiculous and bizarre outcomes (yep that's you my hairy soled friend) and the horrid side effects of the treatments - which is what the Chemo unit and their counterparts all over the world have to deal with.  All too much to bear.  So altogether a very worthy cause confirmed.

As I walked around the Beer Tent shaking my ..... Collecting tin, (stop it you lot) I collected not only coins and notes, but stories, and love, and gratitude. For my litle efforts seem very worthwhile all of a sudden. Eyes glisten. Sighs. Tales of hope.

And a few happy glances at my outfit. (Bosworth 2285 for those that remember it- (er - can you remember a date in the future?)). I guess an adjective would be 'voluptuous',  Happily, the word still exists and has not yet been banned by the thought police in favour of the 'mankini' and 'jeggings' - please see my facebook group 'Voluptuous is a wonderful word. Let's get it back in the Concise OED' and pledge your support there.....

This is where the beer goggles come in. I was advised by a very cheeky friend (female) to collect coins in the purposeful blue plastic collecting tin and keep all notes down the cleavage of a substantially structured leather corset. I didn't go that far (well it might be lost to the world down there!) but did notice a strong correlation between the amount contributed and the lateness of the evening. Gender was also a factor!  But there wasn't a lot of actual flesh on show, I promise.... No, really, there wasn't.... Honestly, you lot,!!!! There might have been a little dancing. There might have even been a few kissed cheeks. But the beer goggles were just looking  - and donations increased steadily throughout the evening.  So much so that the tin I carried to the end of the evening, had THREE TIMES the money of the one that went home earlier in the evening.  Well Girls - my advice for your future fundraising is

Flaunt it!