🪂 FREEFALL #02 — THIS BODY WILL ADAPT
Tracking the fall, logging the rise.
April 5 was supposed to be the date.
But the sky had other plans.
The main plane was under maintenance. The backup wasn’t available either.
So I waited. Again.
Two extra weeks of buildup, two extra weeks of tension sitting in the chest.
And finally, on April 21, the door opened.
But this wasn’t the kind of triumphant jump that fills highlight reels.
It was a reminder—a rough one—that skydiving is still a dangerous sport, and that not every fall goes clean.
That day, we jumped from a small aircraft. No seats, no comfort, no space.
I was lying on the floor, cramped between bodies, legs splayed and crushed.
I couldn’t feel my feet—no blood circulation.
The position was brutal, and I was the last one to exit.
By the time we reached altitude, I was already off—foggy, dizzy, drained.
In the plane, I had a real drop in blood pressure.
Not fear—fatigue.
Weeks of intense work, relentless pressure, and poor recovery had worn me thin.
And now it was showing.
I felt like I could faint.
I forced myself to breathe, to stay alert.
But I made a rookie mistake: zipped my clothes all the way up.
Which made my neck compressed, so my breathing was shallow.
Even before the door opened, I knew this jump wouldn’t be pretty.
I exited high, just to be safe.
And as expected, the jump was messy.
With no tension in the legs because of the lack of blood flow,, I had no real form—just a body falling.
I tried to stabilize with my arms, but everything was off.
I was reacting, not flying.
When I deployed, the twist came fast.
The body rotated during the pull—lack of tension again.
And in my weakened state, even untwisting felt like a challenge.
But I handled it.
Not with grace—but with grit.
I landed safely, absorbed everything, and took notes.
The wind picked up right after, and the day ended with only one jump.
But that was enough. I got the message.
What the Jump Taught Me
Skydiving is not a performance. It’s a practice.
And this body, right now, is learning how to endure again.
It needs better food.
Better hydration.
More rest.
More respect.
In small planes, I need to curl up tighter to keep blood flowing.
In the air, I need to fix position with my legs—not flail with my arms.
This requires me to have more blood flow in my legs though.
And in my head, I need to remember that intensity isn’t free.
It demands everything.
But it gives even more!
That jump was rough.
But it brought me back.
And I’ll be sharper next time.
#GoHarderGoLonger