sunisa nardone

And one morning, Nat and I jumped out of a plane.

Skydiving has always been high on Nat’s agenda for this trip. It must be his “seal the deal” mentality, though he says it’s a spiritual, zen, float-y experience. I was never very keen but somewhere on the drive down the Westland coast, I also started planning for a glacier jump. What the heck! Once that impulse wore off it became, for me, about conquering fear, for I am not an adrenaline-rush kind of person.

Determined to put on a brave face I brushed past the belly-flops of the booking, the ride out to the airfield, even suiting up. A tiny, shiny yellow and red propeller plane pulled up. It fit three of us plus tandem instructors and a full camera crew. We sat folded into each other, tucked together like the proverbial sardines in a very small tin can. The plane was so aptly named I have to share: it was called Icarus.

At first I wondered if this was an ill omen, but then—see—I put it together. Falling is a choice, and if not a good thing at least it is a deliberate decision to let go—for real!—and trust that someone will do their job and that parachute will come flying out. Please read on→

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