I felt sick, hated him for a moment,
and quavered that I didn’t like that.
The fall went on and on. Finally we
neared the desert, and Barry took over
steering entirely.
He twisted us from side to side,
tacking like a sailboat to shed speed
as we came in over the dunes. Then
he gave me the signal to pull my
knees up (I did my shaky best) and
pull down hard on the chute straps. I
braced for impact, but my feet never
touched—suddenly I was on my belly
in the sand, Barry on top of me. He re-
leased the right waist clip so he could
roll off of me as the ground crew ap-
proached, cheering, and freed me
completely.
The crew and other jumpers clus-
tered around; someone helped me to
my feet. I tried to smile, but my cheeks
and lips felt as wobbly as my arms
and legs. I stared at the sand and dug
around inside myself, trying to find
some pride in my accomplishment,
some kind of silver lining with which
to cover up the apparently bottomless
chasm of fear I carried inside me.
Later, after I’d stripped off my har-
ness and helmet and jumpsuit, after
I’d calmed down enough to attempt
the drive home safely, I did find some
pride. I had done it, after all. I hadn’t
backed down, pulled the plug at the
last minute, and forfeited my money
and my dignity. I hadn’t clutched on
to the airplane as we rolled out of it,
killing us all. I hadn’t screamed the
entire way down.
These were small victories. But
I knew now that if I was going to
achieve a real transformation, to re-
arrange my relationship with my
fears, it would not be through shock
and awe. One $400 skydive was not
going to solve my problems. I needed
to be smarter, more systematic, more
scientific.
There was more than one way to
face my fears. If necessary, I would
try them all. RD
from the book nerve: adventures in the science of
fear by evaholland. reprinted with permission
of the u.s. publisher, the experiment, theexperiment
publishing.com.rd.com 113First PersonGood Things Come to Those Who ... Oops
Not yet
Not yet
Not yet
Not yet
EAT ME NOW
Too late.—Avocados