I Thought It Was A Slingshot!

I thought it was a slingshot, and I wanted to give it a try. I thought it's elastic cord would make me fly. I thought in a hurl I could reach the sky. I thought a tug would bring me back.

Watching the first person I saw launched go told it to be a swing. Like Tarzan the rider rode at the end of a long string. An elastic cord, and he would have hit the dirt, therein. A pendulum, for sure, not a bungee cord, though damped it was, by wind.

This, I surely had to try, for g's I can fall for, I don't know why. In dreams, night and day, in zero g's my body sways, and breathing heavily each time I awake, often exhausted, often drained.

That sinking feeling I have always entertained. Often in horror, often in pain, now, since with awareness it is no longer a bane, I dwell upon it, in fact pursue it; this feeling keeps me enthralled in a quiver, unashamedly cheerful; this feeling I long for, in this state I wish to remain.

So I gather up my courage, butterflies in my belly, to me, bats in my belfry, perhaps, to thee, and hurry off, in glee. That rising uneasiness within me, rising like a plume from my belly, with my heart racing, resting only as I don the flyer's gee, I await, sometimes in silence, sometimes making conversation with the dame in line ahead of me.

When my turn comes, I align myself, and grab my cords, very surely noting the all important rip cord, making mock pulls as the winch pulls me sky high, positioning my arms like I were deploying a parachute, though knowing this altitude was probably too low for even a standard BASE jump.

I thought I had my body aligned, I expected to have an extremely smooth ride; how wrong I was, expecting a smooth run, being so stiff, so static, so stubbornly inflexible, that before my first dip I felt more than just the g force.

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Of course, I adjusted myself, mid-air, as you can plainly see, thus adjusting my orientation suddenly, from circus trapeze artist's to a skin diver's thus cutting faster through the air, and then reorienting like a pendulum in motion, my arms somewhat outstretched, my back a bit arched. I soon realized a nightmare scenario: my body was not properly oriented; for as soon as I reached the end of my first swing, when the tension in the cords was the least, my body turned. My top heavy body (well, I think I am top heavy) turned, sideways, right into the new direction of the swing. Had the first swing been the result of a parachute opening, I would have just turned a full 180 degrees, and hit the cliff head on. I can't even imagine the training that BASE jumpers have to put themselves through. Of course, I had bigger fish to fry, so to speak (or, I think so not).

I soon realized I was not in optimum position for breathing, and I even wasn't totally prepared, mentally, for when I went into my first reverse swing I struggled to breathe, that fear that you are losing control when you are in free fall severely taking hold of me. After some hesitation I could breathe, but it was not a totally unimpeded action. I had trouble breathing every time my swing changed direction. Eventually, during my fifth swing (counting reverse swings as actual swings), I was finally able to arch, and breathe freely, even during the tense free fall-like state, so I was able to concentrate on tasks at hand. Now, correct me if I am wrong, but I think that a non-breathing jumper is a candidate for an unconscious jumper, and an unconscious jumper is a good candidate for a dead jumper. I know that body orientation is a big part of what goes into the training of skydivers and BASE jumpers, particularly more so, for the latter group, who are actually veteran skydivers. So, maybe my problem with being able to breathe during free fall, and with keeping my body weight evenly distributed while swinging are part and parcel of problems that jumpers are trained to tackle with. I don't have a way to be sure, right now.