Here’s a terrifying thought; imagine being strapped into a flight suit, tethered to a steel cable and lifted hundreds of feet into the air only to be dropped to the ground going 60 mph. Even more terrifying was that my nephew was nudging me to take this jump with him.
It was years ago on a family outing with my niece, Michelle, her husband, Michael, and their son. They were trying to cheer me up; I’d been having a rough time. My marriage was breaking up, and at the same time, my job was ending. I was struggling to get something going and every direction I turned seemed scarier than flying off a platform head first toward the ground at 60 mph.
We stood on the sidelines at the amusement park and watched the Xtreme Skyflyer crank upward and then with horrifying dizziness drop riders. “Xtreme” is right! It’s a skycoaster ride that sends riders soaring through the air like a pendulum on their way downward. Although I was younger then, I still was a woman of a certain age whose bones wouldn’t mend as quickly as my younger relatives, the ones who were coaxing me on. Yet, I admit that as frightening as it was, I also felt a tinge of exhilaration.
My family could see my fear, feel my hesitation. They coaxed me, supported me, even teased me, but didn’t push. I promised to think about it. After all I did brag on the drive to the amusement park that I would go on the skycoaster if conditions were right. Now, standing near the ride, I was looking for ways to back out. Whatever made me think I could do this?
“I’ll go if the sun comes out,” I said. To myself I thought fat chance that’s going to happen. The forecast was for thick clouds and so far the day had proven the meteorologist right. I felt pretty safe as we walked around the park, at least until the sun broke through the clouds and refused to leave. It was nearing the end of the day. I knew I didn’t have much time to make up my mind. Not making a decision was making a decision.
Michael stood next to me while we watched Michelle and their son on one of the calmer rides. “I’m scared too,” he said. “But I know if I don’t do this, I’ll always be sorry.” That’s all he said. No pushing me, no telling me I had to go on that skycoaster. Just a simple statement about himself that had everything to do with me.
I won’t say the fear subsided when I decided I too would be sorry if I didn’t walk—or is that fly—through this fear. I decided to do it, ride the Xtreme Skyflyer.
My fear increased to the point of near panic as the attendants hooked us up into our flight suits, as they called them. More like a blanket with straps. I caught a glimpse of my face in the ticket booth window. So that’s what sheer terror looks like! My eyes, frozen wide with fright, stared back at me. What in the world am I thinking? Can I back out now?
It was only determined stubbornness that kept me standing while being fitted into the flight suit. My knees buckled on the walk to the cable that would hook Michael and me together. Wires zipped and sizzled, then there was a snap, crack, and we were off, going up, up, up. Up. Up. My fear increased with every foot and my crossed arms burned with bruises as my fingers dug into flesh.
We jerked to a stop at the top. Someone had to pull the ripcord. Fortunately, it was on Michael’s side. “Ready?” he asked. I was still nodding okay when he pulled the ripcord. We were off!
Wind sailed across my face. I was flying, a bird soaring as high as the treetops. I saw the whole world. Weightless, fearless, adrenaline-charged, white-knuckle exciting! I was free. I screamed and laughed and kept right on laughing after we landed. I was still laughing on the ride home.
Riding the Xtreme Skyflyer was, of course, bigger than the ride or the hours that led up to getting on the skycoaster. I had stepped outside my comfort zone—way outside—and faced fear heart-on. I would—could—never go back.
I won’t say I’ve never felt fear since then. I have. But whenever fear creeps into my life and pushes me into a shell of safety, I hear Michael saying, “I’m scared too, but I know if I don’t do this, I’ll always be sorry.”