Why jump out of a perfectly good plane?

That was my dad’s comment when I told him that I was going to do a skydive.

I blame, and also thank, my 17-year-old son Tom for this.

To set the scene, I have always considered myself:

1. Scared of heights
2. Scared of flying in small planes (despite having been told by a pilot to think of it as a drive along a bumpy road instead)
3. To hate the feeling of falling

However, when Tom was 15, I committed to him that I would do the activity of his choice with him after GCSEs as long as he did his best and worked hard along the way.

Tom is an adrenalin junkie. 

When he was a toddler, my husband and I used to joke that he was like Dash from ‘The Incredibles’ because he would never walk anywhere. He always ran until exhaustion kicked in.

He chose, not only that we should do a skydive, but also that we jump from 15,000 feet (or approximately 2.8 miles), not the standard 10,000 feet.

That meant free-falling for 60 SECONDS at 125 mph before the parachute opened.

I committed to Tom and then worried inside about whether I could pull this off.

During one of my coaching sessions, I raised this as something that I was ‘stuck’ with and was coached on this topic by focussing on a change of perspective on the jump.

By the end of the session, I had committed to not only book the jump but to share the date of the jump on all forms of social media that I interacted with.

That was a great move because then I was not only accountable to my family and coach, but also ALL of my contacts.

Those of you that know me personally, will know that I can be super stubborn (or perhaps committed and driven are nicer words to use!) and I will not back out of a commitment come rain or shine. I would feel that I was letting myself down as well as others.

I chose a poignant date for us to do the jump.

I lost my Nan on 2nd January 2021.

My Nan meant the world to me. She enjoyed life to the full, said what she thought, encouraged me through my whole life to be myself and have fun, to not work too hard, and to holiday as much as possible. Losing my Nan at the age of 98 earlier this year introduced me to grief in a big way and my ability to have fun shrank considerably.

I spent my Nan’s last hours and minutes with her which bought comfort to us both but also left me with some very sad images, which regularly come back to haunt me.

My Nan was born on the 5th of September 1922.

I booked the jump for the 5th of September 2021.

Tom was excited and showed no fear whatsoever. I felt as if I lost half a stone in the three hours that we waited for our turn to jump, but as the time ticked by, I became calmer and calmer.

It helped me to focus on my Nan too and to appreciate that it was a beautiful day to be up in the sky and, in my mind, ‘nearer’ to my Nan.  

We were called to jump around lunchtime and very soon were climbing into the purple plane in front of us.

There were five people doing tandem jumps. Three were jumping from 10,000 feet. Tom and I were jumping from 15,000 feet.

I was soon connected to my instructor, who calmly sang and hummed as the plane climbed for the next fifteen minutes.

I was strangely calm. The plane ride was the smoothest I have ever experienced and with amazing views of a clear sky dotted with a few wispy clouds.

After a game of rock, scissors, paper between the instructors (!) it was decided that I was to jump just before Tom.

My instructor and I shuffled forwards towards the now open door of the plane. I breathed deeply and looked upwards as I hung out of the plane door whilst the instructor rocked us backward and forwards twice and then launched us into the sky.

Within two seconds I was smiling from cheek to cheek and shouting out ‘this is amazing’ at the top of my voice.

My instructor pointed to the right and said ‘there’s your lad’. I’m proud to say that I waved to my amazing son at 15,000 feet surrounded by nothing but air and blue sky - which I will never forget.

I wasn’t scared at all. 

I loved every minute.

The adrenalin was amazing.

I have to admit, that I was and still am VERY proud of myself.

I would NEVER have done this before undertaking coaching and I would have both missed out on an amazing experience with my son and also struggled immensely with September 5th every year in memory of my Nan.

Instead, I have some great memories, a photo of myself at my most courageous on my office wall and a mental image of my Nan laughing at my excitement.

Thank you to all of those, that supported me in this journey but especially to my coach, without whom I would have struggled immensely to achieve this.

Take care

Angela