Imposter Syndrome and & VWR Tryouts (AZ March)

Big thanks to my #1 blog fan, Raj. He always keeps me honest. Whenever I see him, he asks me how the blogging is going or reminds me that it’s been a while.

On that note, I truthfully wouldn’t have written about last weekend if he hadn’t asked about my blog. I would have quietly just omitted the experience. Because I am embarrassed. Ashamed maybe even? (We would have to ask Brene Brown. But from what I have gleaned from her writing, a lot of my feels must originate from shame, which makes sense because I was raised catholic. As a People, Catholics love their guilt and shame.) But why do I feel all sorts of bad? Because, hot damn, I flew poorly. Maybe even woefully bad. And yes shame may be an extravagant emotion in regards to skydiving, but I can’t help it. I take skydiving seriously. And I have a tiny bit of flair for the dramatic.

Before the camp this weekend, I had not jumped in 2 weekends/3 weeks while I was in Australia cheering on Richô while he competed at canopy piloting Nationals there. I only got back a week before the camp and I was still feeling the sleep deprivation from some jet lag. (Yes, I’m a baby about not getting enough sleep.) I showed up in Az feeling rusty. It doesn’t take much for me.

It went… badly.

Day 1

The first jump as the first stinger of a bridge line, I corked. I don’t even know why. I just didn’t fly strongly enough. Jump 2, at least I flew the slot just fine. But right at breakoff, when the bridgeline closer let go of me as he broke off, I got knocked to my feet. (I managed to recover pretty seamlessly, thank [ insert some clever god here].) The rest of the day was largely no incident but I flew unimpressively.

Day 2

The first half went uneventfully, although I did almost fell off the plane on the first jump. I was floating to a 2nd left hand stinger on a 2nd pod but I was the thumb person on the right hand trail plane. I just waited for things to build. Jumps 4 and 5, my first stinger (on the 2nd pod) and I switched places. I got there fine but on Jump 4, I let go when a wave went through. Jump 5, I docked but barndoored. Overall, it was cloudy with a chance of meatballs. Def not sunshine, nor daisies. I drove away Sunday afternoon knowing that I didn’t fly like someone who deserves an invite to anything.

Imposter syndrome

Yes. I have it. A lot. And by a lot, I mean often and in large amounts. I can’t tell you how many times since I’ve gotten my golden ticket have I considered how lucky I am to have gotten this invite. I can’t believe it. There were so many better flyers than me at that camp. There are so many other freeflyers who are much more accomplished and talented than me, with more experience and skill. How did I get an invite?

I did fly my butt off in Sebastian. I flew the very best I’ve ever flown on the warm-up day. My legs were quiet. I was calm. Each dock I took was solid, decisive and smooth. But what if that’s the best I’ll ever fly? What if I had one glorious shining golden day of excellent flying and I’ll never achieve that again? what if it was a fluke?

I wonder this about my career in skydiving a lot. I’ve had a couple of days in skydiving where I flew so well, it’s hard to imagine repeating the performance: like the day my team took home silver of 2019 Nationals, and my tryout for and competition with XPG4. Now add to that list The Day I Got Invited to the 200 Way. Maybe I’m a one hit wonder. Maybe I’m a broken record playing the one sad song about the one bleak time that I was good at something once. Maybe it’s not even a song that merits a relisten. Eesh. Maybe I’m old and washed up, without even accomplishing anything of substance in the sport.

Does anyone even want to hear this? Well you’re reading my blog so you volunteered. I write this perspective only because I hope it is useful for someone to hear. I freefly organize at Lake Elsmore pretty often and I jump with people who are new, some who have a lot of self doubt. I guess what I hope is that they see that even decent skydivers get that wicked voice inside their head, making them question whether they’re good enough. Even experienced skydivers have off weekends. I used to say that as I got better at belly, I didn’t stop making mistakes, I just would make smaller mistakes, and recover from them smaller. Tinier and tinier hiccups. I have a new addendum. As you get better, you get a much bigger stage on which to make mistakes; I get to make them an 60 ways instead of 20 ways these days. Now my new goal is to learn from these new mistakes, so as to not make these same exact mistakes again. (More on that later.)

Take Aways (Some of which I already knew but let myself forget):

Currency is King:

– Some people do relatively fine if they haven’t jumped in a bit. Not me. Sometimes I get nervous (fortunately not this weekend). Other times I just feel loose, not flying in a disciplined manner, not visualizing as clearly, with my normal focus. I can’t take 3 weeks off again, not between now and the record. Fortunately, I have a lot of fun things planned this summer to keep me jumping.

I Can’t Slack Off

I cannot slack off with my other prep. While I was visiting Australia, I didn’t visualize like I said I would, nor did I study video. My performance suffered. I know now everyone has to do that kind of work to stay on their game, but I do. If anyone has ever accidentally mistaken me for a natural in skydiving, you are wrong. I am a try-hard that has had to work for the skills I’ve acquired and progress I’ve made. Nose to the grindstone going forward.

Mental Game and Meditating

Same from above, but specifically, my brain work was a flop last weekend. When I’m working hard at visualizing, it helps. I can see very clear pictures in my head of the inside view and outside camera view of skydives I’ve done, or skydives I create in my head. I feel the muscles I want to engage as I visualize the dive, thinking about flexing my food through my heel, or freezing my leg muscles in place, as you do to fly with quiet legs. I literally practice the skydive (as much as possible) doing a skydive or tunnel. It sounds nuts but it helps me.

Jumping

I just gotta jump a lot. After 3 weeks, I feel rusty. Skydiving feels foreign to me, instead of like a natural state of being. For big jumps, big events, I need skydiving to feel as normal as walking to be confident that I’m bringing my best.

Good Things

Well, it wouldn’t be my blog if I didn’t try my very best to spin some kind of positive out of it. So, here’s a list of good things
– I didn’t get uninvited to the record!
– I can tell my reaction time is getting better. As I was corking away from jump one, before I was even off my head, things slowed down enough for me to think “Ah, corking. I really shouldn’t be doing this. I wonder if I can save this.” But by the time I finished that thought, I was head up above the formation. But! That was enough anticipation that I was able to get back to my head and start boogie-ing back to my slot in the formation before breakoff. While I didn’t get back to my slot, I did manage to get in amongst the row of dockers right behind my slot. Next time, (hopefully there will never be a next time.) I’ll either save it, or my anticipation will be fast enough that I’ll get back into slot.
– I took the attention off everyone else on their first jump at the event, so if you were nervous you’d fuck up, you’re welcome. I did it for you. No one noticed your nervous bobble in comparison to my goof.
– I got to see friends from across the country
– My new Vertical suit flys awesome
– I still was able to mostly enjoy myself. In the past, a performance this poor would have me beating myself up, completely unable to enjoy the experience. That wasn’t the case. I had an overall okay time. Personally, I’m proud of that, that I didn’t let my performance turn me into a gray storm cloud.

Okay, next blog is either: I Need a Freefly Mentor or Skydiving Trip to Australia or I Really Want To Make A Skydiving Video But Can Never Seem to Make It Happen