Wow. It’s over. Satan’s underpants. How did that happen so fast? I’m going to try to get all my thoughts down into one blog but, realistically, there might be a lot of recurring themes from this in future blog posts. This is kinda my “experience at the VWR” post. Next up is a retrospective post about what I felt went well, went poorly, and what questions I still have. (Already started working on it.)
VWR Experience
Honestly? This, for me, was a huge success. I didn’t know if I could make it here. Once I had an invite, I didn’t know if I could perform. I came, and I performed. I am so incredibly proud of myself. I had a number of people come up to me after the jumps and tell me I flew well. I worked my ass off to get here. I remember at Nationals in 2021, J Russ said “If you can fly VFS, you fly in a 200way.” So I went out and did it.
At the end of 2020, I was barely able to safely to fly VFS in the tunnel with other people. I worked my ASS off to be here. I pushed so hard. I attended a lot of camps: January in AZ, Sebastian (where I got an invite), AZ in March, Houston, and the CA/AZ 100ways. Before that, I did the WI women’s headdown record in 2021 and the CA women’s record. The spring summer of 2021, I attended least 2 Fulcrum bigway events, a P19 bigway event by Amberly at Elsinore, 1 or 2 Polaris bigway events in Perris, and a P19 camp at Skydive Orange. I also flew a lot of VFS in the tunnel. I worked my butt off and I’m so freaking pleased with myself for earning this spot on the record.
I spent a lot of time after receiving my invite, worrying what other people thought. I worried there would be a lot of people who would look at my name on the invite list and say “Why did she get an invite? She’s not that good.” I am confident after last week that I absolutely deserved to be there.
Am I disappointed? Yes. My heart is sad. I wanted a record so bad. I wanted to walk away, able to say that I’m a World Record holder. I’m really sad I can’t say that.
I think everyone involved with the VWR is going to spend a lot of time pondering the whole experience over the next few weeks or months. My mind drifts to the questions like “Could I have done more?” Oh definitely. Yeah. For sure. I had a huge list of things I was going to do to prepare: Visualize every day, Research all the people in front of me in the formation and find out what their gear looked like to help me visualize, Find videos of my slot and watch them, Fly even more VFS, Work on my physical fitness to help with endurance (chin-ups, running, etc. etc.), Meditate daily to help with my mental endurance. I didn’t do all that. I did a small amount of that. I could have done more.
A Big Big Thank You
Thank you to all the friends that messaged me with encouragement, support, and good luck. A big big thank you to my parents who came to watch on Monday and Tuesday, and their friends that came along too. A big thanks to the belly flyers in Chicago at the same time chasing their own record. They always cheered us on. Obviously, thank you to my sponsors. A big thanks to all my friends at the record. Y’all are awesome and I’m so glad I got to know many of you better through this process. A big, big, big shout out to my boyfriend who patiently rode the emotional roller coaster with me as I went through the VWR process and has always encouraged and supported me.
Nerves
Thursday before the record, had a zillion nerves. I was doing some single plane shots to get ready and felt… well, not ready. I felt unprepared. I was a bundle of nerves. But something switched Friday. My friends all started pouring in to town and my mood just changed. Honestly, I was just happy to be there. Happy to be invited. Happy to be included. Surprisingly, the rest of the week, my nerves mostly disappeared. I didn’t expect that.
My Plane Ride
Usually, my plane ride process is rigid and highly structured. But this week, I just went with the flow. I’ve always worked with the following structure: Breath until 1k. Visualize myself doing move that’s the crux of the skydive from outside for a few thousand feet. Get ready with gloves, buff, zips, helmet. Breath until 8k. Visualize the whole skydive from the inside twice. Visualize the whole skydive from the outside twice. Breath until jump run. But this time, my only process was to get ready at 8.5k. Otherwise, I let myself visualize, or day dream, or sing to myself, or nod off. I watched the person in front of me play a lot of Wordle and I kept wondering if I was better at Wordle then him. (Who starts with ABOUT every time?)
I thought about one of my favorite songs over and over again: San Francisco by the Mowgli’s. I love it. I love the lyrics.
“I’ve been in love with love and the idea of
Something binding us together,
You know that love is strong enough,
And I’ve seen time tell tales of that
Systematic drug, yeah that
Heart that beats as one,
It’s collectively, unconciously composed”
That song kept me going throughout the record. I kept thinking about how that’s our goal on these record jumps. A heart that beats as one. Skydiving is our systematic drug. Skydiving, our love for skydiving and chasing records and doing the hard thing binds us all together.
I’m not one for that warrior mentality. I’m not inspired by the language of going to war, going into battle. Being a warrior, a ninja. Machismo language doesn’t do it for me. These skydives aren’t a fight, a struggle. No, I like the language of positivity. We’re a team. We’re a supporting force. We’re bringing each other along and pulling each other up. We’re striving. So, if you wondered what was going on in my head in the plane, it was probably this song on repeat.
I thought about my friend Kellie a lot too. I thought about how proud she would be of me. She was the most supportive friend, the most amazing person. I think about her a lot when I skydive. It sucks to lose a skydiving friend.
Tribalism/Sectors
I’ll dive into this a little more in my retrospective blog, but expect a bit in there about the tribalism I saw in this record. I don’t like it. I think it’ll be something to overcome if we want to ever want to achieve a 200way.
So, What Happened?
I’ll tell you my VWR story. Keep in mind, there exist 200+ individual different stories of how the record went. Every single person rode their own emotional roller coaster; every skydiver at the VWR attempts lived their own saga. Each one of us was 0.5% of the record. We all played a very small part in a huge production. So here’s my tale.
Originally, I was slotted to be in the 1pm radial, in the Chicago sector. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and half of Thursday, I sat at the back of LLT. The dive felt long. I dove towards my radial as hard as I could. (I repeated a mantra on the ride up to altitude to help me remember how to dive fast: Feet, Ass, Arms. I have a tendency to banana. So I would try to snap my feet together, tighten my butt, so as to not arch like a banan, and put my arms to my sides.) My dives got better when I remembered to hook my arm around the edge of the door on exit, pulling myself out of the plane faster. I enjoyed my peeps on the plane! I hung out with Frayer, Alex Hart, Maggie, Leslie, and a rotating cast of Europeans. The people in front of me (in the 3rd layer) rotated a lot, but Alex Hart, Frayer and I remained constant for most of the week.
And so, we waited. We waited and waited and waited. I waited for so many jumps. Monday I worked hard to get better at my slot. Tuesday, I flew really well, getting there quickly, and hovering as close to Alex as I could (because I was 2nd stinger on him). I tried to be precise about my radial and disciplined with my levels. It was challenging. Often, I’d dive to what seemed to be my radial, only to realize it had moved during my dive, leaving me to carve a little.
I struggled through a lot of feelings of frustration, watching people in the 3rd layer give space to the 2nd layer, while the 4th layer kept getting lectured in the debrief about being closer. I tried so, so hard to be right on top of the person I was going to dock on. I tried to be patient, but watching someone consistently be off level, idling about 12 feet from his dock in the 3rd layer, while I worked hard to be close to my dock in the 4th layer smothered my optimism for touching the formation or for having a chance to be on this record. It was even more frustrating when I heard that several people in my radial talked to him about where he was waiting, and his response was to double down that he didn’t need to be closer. I don’t mean to be petty, because we’re all a team, but it stings to watch someone not do their job which could in turn hurt my ability to do my job. (Eventually, when I moved in, I took that slot, so maybe there is justice?)
As Wednesday progressed, I became a Pissy Patty, a Sour Sally, a Negative Nancy. Honestly, I stopped doing my job. On the outside, my job was to wait patiently. My job was to trust the organizers. My job was to stay positive and supportive, encouraging the other skydivers. I started getting pessimistic and that was not doing my job. I should have been more supportive, tried to fake a little more optimism. My interest in perfection in my slot waned as I continued watching, waiting.
Wednesday, on our 5th ride to altitude, things seemed normal, until the two minute call. On jump run, I see some people pointing out of the left windows. When I look, I see LLLT several hundred feet below us and off to the right, instead of hanging out at our wingtip. My first thought? Well, this doesn’t bode well. We rode the plane down and found out that LLLT left engine went bust. So much hubbub ensued. Rook wanted to send another load and, with one plane grounded, J Russ told us outmost folks that we were sat down. I can’t be too twisted up about that; I told myself going in to this that if I got pie crusted, I would not be mad. Getting pie crusted is something that I just cannot help if the layer in front of me is not building. I do not need to have a melt down over something I couldn’t control. So, I kept my chin up and watched with interest as the organizers thought about re-engineering a 180 way in 20 minutes. However, I think calmer heads prevailed and we called it for the say instead of sending a 180 way.
I do have to say, I let out a pretty big whoop that night when I heard the LLLT plane was up and running because I was back on the record.
Thursday morning continued as the last few days, with one exception. While waiting on the ground for weather to clear, I got asked by an organizer if I wanted to move farther in. Hell yeah, I did! I was told to wait for some directives in about 10 minutes. But in 10 minutes, I was informed that the spaces farther in had been filled; I would be first on the list to move closer. I had to work really hard to keep my face cheerful during that short conversation. It hurt more to have a hope, and then have that hope crushed, than to have no hope. Out of the whole record, that might be the closest I came to crying.
During that same weather hold, only twenty or so minutes later, Rook made an announcement. We were cutting it down to a 170 way. The knife got sharper, and quickly. The following 45 minutes tortured me worse than any other part of the week. Based on my last conversation, I assumed I was still on the outer ring, and therefore, cut. However, I looked at the google document with names and slots and I was #104. I was Schrodinger’s Cut. I was both in the skydive, and not in the skydive. I had to employ some of the mindfulness techniques I’ve learned from meditation. It’s the only reason I didn’t freak out during the wait. I had to ask myself: “Does worrying about being on it or not being on it change this current moment?” Until I actually know, there is no reason for me to be sad, or excited, or to celebrate, or to worry. My current moment didn’t change; I was still on a weather hold and no one was jumping. So I waited, patiently.
After an agonizing amount of time, the official slots came out. I moved to middle of LLT to the first stinger in the 3rd layer. I would be docking on Bert, who was pod closing the first pod off of the bridge. Honestly, we were a problem radial. We hadn’t seen much improvement the whole week. I knew that I had to do well or I would be chopped and quick.
They don’t tell you how hard it is to be gearing up right in front of your friends who got pie crusted. It’s not really possible to explain that mix of emotions when you’re on a jump and you know the people not suiting up with you are also perfectly capable of being on this skydive. It’s hard to be excited about the jump, and to be proud of your performance, when you know your friends are trying hard to mask their disappointment, and everything else. That sucks.
Jump 1 in that slot, things looked alright. But we just waited and waited. I am truly baffled that I can both look and completely not see while on a skydive like that. My head was pointed at the base, which didn’t build. It’s in my video. But in that skydive, I didn’t even see it. I stuck to Bert like glue and looked across at Kyle, my cross partner. I had no idea the base didn’t build until I got down.
I flew away from that skydive so psyched though. Once my canopy opened and my slider was stowed, I channeled my inner Megan Rapinoe: I started screaming “I deserve this!” I am not ashamed at how corny I am. I deserved it. I deserved this invitation. I deserved to be on this 170 way. I deserved to be moved in. I flew so strong and ready in position. When we got down, Bert called me a little mosquito because I was hovering so close to his ear. I deserved this chance to prove myself and I delivered.
The next jump, I touched it. My ditter was screaming in my ear and but I saw Bert taking Nalini’s grip and I had to touch it. I had been waiting for days. I reached in and touched it. I landed screaming “I fucking touched it!”. I was over the moon, elated. It’s such a strange sensation to be celebrating something like touching the formation when everyone else seems so frustrated, but dude. I couldn’t help myself. I touched it.
Once I got moved up, people toward the nose vocalized that the dive felt really, really long. It got me wondering, was it longer than when I had to do that dive? Or was it the same? It doesn’t really matter. It just crossed my mind.
The last day, on the last couple jumps, we went up quite high several times quite quickly. As we did that, the jumps got a little looser. All that has me curious about hypoxia. How good are smart watch O2 readers? Should we all be wearing them? Despite being recommended to use a canula, I just sucked on the tube. Was that dumb? I put the tube into my mouth and did the same type of ujjayi breathing I do in yoga, trying to pull the air through back of my throat. I felt pretty good the whole time, but I also don’t think we’re good assessors of being hypoxic. I did try out the method of running my O2 tube through my sleeve up my neck to my helmet. I liked that a lot.
Related to trying new things: I strapped on some weight! I wore about 10lbs despite never wearing any at the camps. It sure made my dive feel easier though.
During the record, my canopy decided to be awful. People say Crossfire 109s open nicely but I’m not impressed. Mine did a couple 360s and a couple 180s. Not knowing which direction you’ll end up facing on opening is butt-puckering. (I bet I do something weird and wiggly on deployment? idk)
Stamina for the VWR
I think I was mentally, emotionally, and physically prepared for this. But it wasn’t the camps or bigways that trained me. It was team training for belly and competing at Nationals.
This last week was not as physically hard as a 4 day weekend of back-to-backs doing 8way training. I never once felt as hot, tired, and beat as my 12th jump on day 4 of a camp with Perris Riot. It was not as mentally hard as Nationals. I never was so mentally and emotionally taxed during the week as I normally am during Nationals. Competition trained me for the VWR. Often in the past, I put myself into situations where I feel like the weakest player, the newest person, the most inexperienced flyer. I’ve figured out how to perform well with those feelings of doubt looming over me. So, when those obtrusive thoughts came to visit me last week, I knew I could push them away and still fly well.
My recommendation? If you want to have the energy, the stamina to make this VWR feel easier, go compete. But I don’t mean casually. Go compete like you mean it. Find a team and plan a rigorous training season. Do back-to-backs. Or pack for yourself and do double-digit jumps in a day. Visualize competition jumps until visualizing and focusing is easy. Figure out how to summon all your energy and attention when you are hot, tired, sweaty, nodding off, pissed off that your team isn’t flying well or you aren’t flying well, hungry, and have to pee. I think I agree with J Russ that if you can fly VFS, you can fly a bigway. Get a team, plan to do 150 training jumps, and push yourself way out of your comfort zone.
New friends!!!
My biggest win of this entire process is all the new people that I get to call my friends. By traveling all over the country for camps, I’ve met so many people, so many new friends! There is nothing quite as bonding as going through something so challenging together. I am so, so grateful for that part of the VWR.
P19 Success Too!
Dude! There were so many women at the event! I think we determined we had either 30 or 40 women there between the women on the bench and on the VWR. That’s huge! Especially, when in 2018, there apparently were only like 13 or 15 women. It is absolutely clear that Project 19 has made a big impact on getting more women in to bigway freeflying.
So… Will I do it again?
Yes. I am pretty sure yes. I will want to see that things change, that the approach taken next is different. But I want to be involved. I know we can do a 200way headdown formation. Absolutely. So, yes. Pretty dang likely you’ll see me in 2025.
Oh, I almost forgot. The whole “For the hive” thing? Incredibly annoying.
I really enjoyed reading this. Thank you