Category: Uncategorized

I’m Moving. Again.

Dude. I’m moving again. Again. Oof. For someone who just desperately wants to find a place to settle down and call home, I can’t seem to stop bopping around. Honestly though, this is the funniest possible outcome. I’m just going for a second loop through California I guess. I joked about this when I moved out here in 2020, but I guess I’m actually doing it. Back story: Right after college, I moved to Huntington Beach and I eventually started skydiving at Elsinore in 2014. After that, I moved up to SF for a few years, then on to Colorado. So when I moved back out to SoCal from Colorado, I joked that I was just starting the loop again. Well, the joke is on me. Here I am, moving back to NorCal again. If I complete the cycle and go back to Colorado, I will just keel over with the ridiculousness of it all. If only I could just find a place to kick it for more than a handful of years, that would sure be excellent.

I’m excited to move! I’m excited to be a Skydive California homie and jump there regularly. I’m excited to get into paragliding there with some friends. I’m excited to move in with my honey and get to do 2way jams with him a lot <3. Who knows? Maybe I’ll even get my pilot’s license up there.

Am I ready to Leave? A Little Ready

I’m both plenty ready, and yet, only a little ready. As far as skydiving opportunities, I’m most sad to be leaving the LO slot that I only recently got at Skydive Elsinore. I started freefly LOing there in January (after waiting many, many months to be approved) and I simply love it. I love everything about LOing. The people that want to fly with me are so enthusiastic. I just love sharing in their success. I love planning jumps and watching people improve and having fun. I love LOing; I’m sad there isn’t really a need for it at Skydive California. Hopefully I’ll be able to come back and guest LO at Elsinore still some times. Honestly, I think one of the things I’m most hesitant to leave with this move is load organizing at Skydive Elsinore.

I’m also super sad to be leaving the Oceanside tunnel. It is the gold standard of tunnels, in my opinion. I love the staff. I love how it’s run. I love that they do so much to build up the community of experienced flyers there. It has the feel of a dropzone. In addition to the culture, the amount of skilled flyers that are always down for VFS or sequentials or what-have-you is amazing. I’m going to miss being 10 minutes away from a world class tunnel, with world class staff, full of so many of my friends that are badass flyers. When I compare it to what tunnels I’ll be flying at in NorCal (SF Bay: 12′ octagon from the stone ages or Sacramento: underpowered 14′, both an hour from my new place), I weep.

But Also, Plenty Ready

Southern California wasn’t what I expected. Honestly, I had been thinking about this move for years, since probably 2018. Originally, I assumed I would move out to SoCal to fly on some hellishly competitive belly teams. I assumed I’d get onto the Perris LO schedule for belly. From all my competition belly, I already had so many tummy flyer friends out here; I envisioned my move out here being one where I would just spend more time with them. Especially, I expected to spend a ton of time with my best friend at the time, Kellie Infante. That was the original plan.

However, things changed. I got into freeflying. I moved away from competition belly for a few seasons, to focus on freeflying. My friend Kellie passed away. Covid hit. The original plan changed.

By the time I arrived out here, I could only sort of fly on my head and I knew almost no freeflyers. I felt essentially trapped in my new house in San Diego because, well, Covid. I felt really lost in skydiving. But if you want to get into bigway freeflying, SoCal isn’t a bad place to be. I dove into that discipline because I had no idea what else to do. Normally, I would have put together a team. But freeflyers just don’t love teams the way belly flyers do. And I didn’t really have the skills to entice anyone else into a VFS or MFS team with me. So, I floundered, but eventually found my footing, channeling my energy into getting an invite to Project 19 and the VWR. But was it the roaring success of a move I expected it to be originally? Nawp. Not really.

What about the People?

Well, honestly, this is another area I let myself down. I do have a lot of friends here; I had a lot of them before I even moved out here. My connections to the Perris and Elsinore belly communities were very strong, due to competing on Perris-based teams and Nationals, etc. However, since I’ve been here, I’ve hardly done a thing to nurture them. I wanted to focus on getting better at freeflying so badly that I’ve neglected my other friendships, and that makes me sad. (So I guess my answer to this predicament is moving farther away and hoping that improves it? I never said I was logical about things…)

I never managed to quite connect with the freefly community here the way I really hoped either. Does that totally surprise me? Not in the least. First, trying to lump all of SoCal freeflyers into one bucket is silly. There are so many freeflyers here, with so many different skill levels, that are in varying stages of engagement with the sport. They all have different dropzones they frequent. Most of them already have a crew. It was naive of me to expect to ever really be able to join that. Second, I’m not surprised because I know my tendency to be a try-hard is off-putting to freeflyers. I can’t help it. I work really hard to be good at things. But in the land of California-cool, looking like you’re making an effort is notable, in a bad way. I think I’m still too much of belly flyer at heart to have ever really gotten in with the cool kids. Such is life.

But! I have made some really good friends here and I will miss them dearly. I do love that SoCal draws in people from everywhere, for it’s skydiving-mecca qualities. It means there’s always an influx of people to get to know. In the two-ish years I’ve been back, I have made so many friends. I’ll have a guest room up in NorCal, come visit! Or let’s plan a skydiving trip together! Or let me come crash on your couch and I’ll come back and visit!

So Is It Time?

Idk, man. Is it time to move? I guess so. Every time I relocate, I feel like I’m being scattered to the wind again. As someone who spent most of their life in one place, with familial roots so firmly entrenched in the midwest for generations, I appreciate a place to call home. I haven’t really had that as an adult. But, I guess SoCal this time was never going to be home. First, it was going to be a temporary springboard for belly progress, but then became my springboard for freefly bigways. So I suppose it’s time. I’ve gotten onto the 200way and P19, now I just need to deliver. I don’t need the SoCal springboard for that anymore.s

Other Reflections, Re: Phones and Bigways

I am really mad at myself right now. Why? Because I can’t seem to stand up for my opinions, even on my own damn blog. This is my own tiny corner of the internet where I share the things in my brain. Yet, I can’t even actually say what I want without wilting when someone disagrees. How did I become this person? Yuck.

I had a number of people comment about my post where I talk about playing phone games or reading on the ride to altitude; a lot of peoples’ hackles raised when they read it. I got a some of comments saying, “Well it works for me”, “It relaxes me”, etc. Many of the people commenting fly way, way better than me. They probably have already achieved more in skydiving than I ever will. They are currently probably better at skydiving than I’ll ever be. So, I followed my gut-reaction to shrink away from my own opinion and concede. I simply rolled over and agreed. And in retrospect, that’s not what I believe. So, I’m really mad at myself that I can’t just say, “Look. I think phones on planes draw attention away from what we’re trying to achieve.” Because that’s truly what I think. Maybe people DO succeed because they use their phone. But I believe people succeed in spite of it.

Will I ever tell people to get off their phones? No. Will I even be judgy about it? No. People should do whatever they want to; who am I to give them advice? But I think what I think; this blog is my little place where I get to express that.

And because this is my own blog, I think I’ll get out my shovel and just keep digging this hole for myself.

Listen. I pride myself on my mental game. Honestly, I believe it’s what has gotten me as far as I’ve gone, as quickly as I’ve gone. Am I a prodigy who should be lauded for how quickly they learn? No. I am not that good. But I’m alright. (I sometimes question whether I’m actually good at skydiving. Then I talk to one or another of my mentors and remember that I AM actually decent at this.) I pride myself on the progress I’ve made in both belly and freeflying. I believe my mental game plays a huge part in my improvement and how I execute under pressure. My success comes from learning how to keep tabs on my brain, and then coaxing it into doing what I want. Am I nervous? Calm the brain. Am I amped? Slow it down. Am I sluggish? Speed up my brain.

I’ve come to rely on the mental practice from meditation of Noting: Noting when a thought enters your consciousness and choosing to engage or not, Noting when a feeling occurs and getting curious about it. I use this technique on the plane ride, the entire ride if I can. I have thoughts with self-doubt or day dreams of snacks or judgements of myself or others on the previous skydive. But I note these things as thoughts and I choose not to engage. When I experience sensations, good and bad, I note them and get curious, instead of being washed away with them. Does my butt hurt from sitting in this position? Does my neck have a crick in it? Is it super hot? Super cold? I handle all that with a noting practice. I worked really hard to get good at meditating over the last few years and I advocate for it; I think it’s better to experience the moment than to distract myself from the moment when I need to perform on a skydive.

(Side Note: I also believe my ability to reign in my brain is why I can sleep at the drop of a hat. Seriously, give me approximately two minutes and I can be asleep. I’ve trained myself to just put it all out of my head and do the thing I need to do, in this case sleep.)

Having this debate about phones makes me realize that people may not understand the sheer amount of mental work I put into the sport. That’s fine. (Ugh. I perceive exactly how high and mighty I sound while writing this, but I just can’t bother to decorate my opinions with more palatable frosting right now because it’s late when I’m writing this.) But, I put in so much mental work. Sometimes, when people debate this with me, it almost feels like me and my hard work in that area are being dismissed, or perhaps not acknowledged. That sucks.

So, sure. Do what do you do on your phone. You are the best person to decide what you need. I will not be doing so, nor will I be judging you. I just wouldn’t advise it. However, I would like to ask: Why does my opinion of phones in planes bother you so much? Why do you feel the need to explain yourself to me or tell me that I’m being too critical, or too harsh, or too judgy or that I’m just plain wrong for believing this? I’m just a freeflyer of middling skill with my first world record invite in hand; who am I to have opinions about this?

Finally, if you’ve made it this far and you’re offended or upset. I am sorry. That’s not my intention. I don’t aim to personally attack. I’m just flinging my thoughts into the void of the internet.

But First, Let Me Proselytize About Something Else

Before I start yammering about skydiving, we need to deviate from the usual programming for a few moments. It took me a few days to sit down and write this because I’ve been down in the dumps this week. Absorbing the information about the leaked decision on Roe v. Wade hurts my heart; it weighs down my soul and makes me fear for where we are headed. As a woman who tends to be drawn towards male-dominated activities, I’m a devout feminist. I consume a lot of media about women and how we navigate the world. While I have come to harbor a lot of beliefs based on all the feminist non-fiction literature and podcasts I devour, I deeply believe that bodily autonomy and education for women are two of the largest tenants that allow not just women, but societies to succeed. This heartbreaking, egregious attack on the rights of women is going bad places very fast; a dark, looming cloud has hovered over me all week because of it.

Okay, Big Ways:

So, Did We Succeed?

Well, that’s a really great question. What are your bars for success? How do you measure whether we went out there and “Did the Thing”? Honestly, I would say there were huge elements of success. 1. There were no major injuries that I’m aware of. 2. We had no cutaways. For an event that had approximately 115 jumpers each skydive and did 10 skydives, that’s 1150 total skydives. No cutaways or injuries seems like a success to me on a very important level.

Did we build a 115ish way? Hell no. One the jump we got the closest, I would estimate that 10 or 20 people still had not touched the formation. I’m happy to have been a part of it and quite pleased to have done my first 100+ ways (beer!) but I don’t think I can unequivocally post any pictures or videos with the sentiment, “Yay! We did it!”. But wait! Before you let your blood boil and the muscles in your neck tighten, ready to aggressively defend your social media posts from this week, I’m not saying that the weekend wasn’t worthwhile. In fact, I think this weekend was exceptionally important.

1. Learning the Cadence. During my 4way and 8way belly teams, coaches constantly reminded us to move together as a unit. When we would have long, hard days of training, moving together through the process of creeping/walking/jumping/hydrating/debriefing/eating helped strengthen our team mentality. We made sure we supported each other in keeping up energy level and keeping up motivation. Learning the cadence of a team creates a togetherness that’s important. Learning the cadence of your own needs, to make sure you’re drinking water, eating and caffeinating around the pack jobs, debriefs and walks gives you a taste of what the cadence at the record will be like. We need people prepared on every facet of bigways to succeed at this 200way, not just being prepared to touch a big formation.
2. Mental and Physical Tenacity and Fortitude. Again, I thank my team training for this. I’ve trained several summers in Eloy and Perris, sprinting from back to back loads in a hot belly suit and heavy weight belt. After three back to back otter loads, you only have 20 minutes to drink some water, pee, shove food in your face, and walk the next 3 skydives. Learning how to stay focused mentally and perform physically when you’re hungry, or tired, or you have to pee, or the temperatures are hitting the high 90s, has built my tenacity for pushing through the bullshit. On Saturday, we did a 6th jump even though a lot of people didn’t want to. I wanted to. Because even though I didn’t think it would be successful, the team needs to have the experience of forcing themselves to bring their best on that skydive despite the fact that they’re exhausted. (It was my best skydive of Saturday, fyi.)
3. Patience. I hope this camp taught people patience. For us to achieve this record, all 200 people have to do their job all at the same time. You may do your job every single skydive, but you also need to develop patience so you don’t start getting frustrated while you wait for other people to figure out their job; frustration will only make you fly worse. Instead of getting frustrated or impatient, choose to fly your most excellent (especially when other people are sorting out their shit). By adding calm and stability to a skydive, you can counteract some of the nerves and noise that other people bring. At the camp, a friend mentioned that an organizer called them out for noisy legs, despite the fact that everything else was going fine: good levels, still arms and torso, good looking across. My only thought, on that is “Well, if you’re doing everything else right, how hard is it to add one more thing? Quiet down your legs.” Have patience. Practice being perfect.
4. Introducing Bigway Realness. This bigway season, a lot of us are new to head down bigways. Even if we’ve seen the sight picture for a 40way or a 60way, that’s much different than a 100way. Getting the realness of the 100way only prepares all of us noobs more.
5. A Wake-Up Call. Before going to this camp, a lot of people sounded very confident that we’d build the 100+ way. We didn’t. I think this camp was a great wake-up call to remind us that nothing can be taken for granted. Just because you’ve done it before, doesn’t mean you can do it again. Just because you have an invite, doesn’t mean you’re ready. Just because you’re a shredder, doesn’t mean you can coast. This 100way should be screaming “Wakey, Wakey, Eggs and Bakey” at people, reminding them to bring their A game this August.

So it was worthwhile, what else?

How did I do?

Honestly? Crushed it. I started out with pretty uninteresting slots with a lot of waiting, for things to build in front of me. As a late arrival and not being part of either the CA or AZ sector, I wasn’t surprised. I went into last weekend with the mentality: “Just happy to be here.” Before I even arrived, I moved from a left-hand first stinger on the outermost pod, to being a right hand second stinger in the outermost pod. But as Saturday progressed, I got moved into the podcloser for the 2nd pod. On my second attempt at pod closing, both second stingers docked and I wrangled, closed, and shaped out the pod! I was pretty proud of that flying.

Sunday, I was a left hand stinger on a pod on a bridgeline. Mostly, I flew alright. I can always do better, but I drove away mostly pleased.

Mostly, the weekend held mental challenges. I worked hard to overcome my nerves and to stay focused. I know it’s corny, but I always think about this platitude Jillian Michaels said on one of her workout tapes that I did a lot in college. “Think of all the things you want for yourself, all the reasons you’re doing this.” Mostly, during college, I’d curse at the TV, because that quote came in the middle of a vicious abs section. I hate doing ab workouts. But I can’t help hear it waft into my brain when I need to focus on the why and put my nerves to bed. And why do I want to do this? Do I want a world record? Honestly, I just want the respect that comes with it. I want people to know that I can fly any position, any time. That they can count on me to do the job. I’m still getting there, but that’s the reason I’m doing all this.

Walking and visualizing my eye movements

During this camp, I attempted to visualize my eye movements during the skydive, and to do those eye movements during the walk. I think it helped. My belly coach, Christy Frikken, always recommends the “texting while driving” strategy to look at your dock or grips. As we walked, I would look across, but practice those rapid peeps at my grip, then at where I was presenting my hand to be docked on. I think it helped.

Being on level

The number of excellent, experienced flyers not flying on level at the camp baffled me. Am I perfect? No. So should I be criticizing? Maybe not. But, seriously, bruh. A lot of people who are a lot better than me kept goofing it. Seriously. Fly on level. It may take a bit to figure out where on-level is, but once you find it, why would you ever go back? Do it once, then just bask in the goodness of flying in clean air. See the sight picture know what you’re aiming for, then choose only to ever live the good on-level life again.

Complacency

Doing 100ways is straight up dangerous, compared to your average skydive. There are just So. Many. More. People. It just multiplies all the things that can go wrong. Adding altitude and oxygen creates another set of potential challenges. Landing amongst 100 other people? Congested. 100ways demand that you vigilant; you should double down on keeping your head on a swivel. You should pour your energy into visualizing, preparing. So, (and I know this will be a touchy subject but here I go) I am baffled by the number of phones I see on the airplane riding up to altitude.

Phones???

What would Dan BC say? (I know. So many skydivers don’t care what Dan BC says. But I like his bend towards safety.) I am shocked that so many people fuck around on their phones: Wordle, reading, other games. Are you that bored? Are 100ways that easy for you? Can you not stay focused for a 30-45 minute ride to altitude? I believe that by NOT being on my phone, I am showing respect to the skydive, respect for these 100ways and the increased complexity and danger they carry. I’m respecting the other skydivers, the money they spent and the time they are taking to do this event. When I’m load organizing, I will read a book on the way to altitude because those jumps are less complex, less costly, less demanding. But at 100ways, I am putting every effort in to do my part on this skydive. Look. I get that some people are good enough to read a book on the ride to altitude and ace it everytime. But a lot of people on phones are not that good, not on this kind of a skydive.

Oh you’re bored on the ride to altitude? You are letting yourself be bored; you are not channeling your focus into something. You’re not being curious enough. In meditation, you are challenged to observe each breath, noticing, watching the changes in the length of the inhale, the exhale, the depth, the feel in your nose and your lungs. Mindfulness encourages us to be curious about our surroundings, the smells, the feels, the sounds. If you are bored, you are not paying enough attention to your inner and outer experience. If you find yourself bored on the ride to altitude, get curious: about your mental state, your physical state. I’m all about mindlessly entertaining myself with my phone sometimes, but riding to 18k with 100 people? Nah. Wrong time.

Another Note on Patience

Lastly, I want to tie in that curious attitude I mentioned before and patience. Above I mentioned waiting for people to sort out their shit; I said to be patient. Instead of landing from the skydive and bitching about how you did your part and everyone else was slow/crappy/not amazing, I encourage you to get curious about what you can do better, how you can challenge yourself. Challenge yourself with each dive. What can you do better? There’s always something. Be aware of your legs the whole time, keeping them dead still while waiting for the pod in front of you to build. Push yourself to take a second off your dive, or perfect your track. Improve your 180 from center at breakoff; do it faster and more precisely. Or you can choose a challenge of attention: Pay attention to who arrives at the skydive in what order. Try to improve the amount of thing that you remember about each skydive. Whey I was belly load organizing, I went on many, many jumps that did not challenge me. So I made an effort to find a challenge on each one. I would focus on impeccable body position, pointing my toes and engaging my muscles. I would focus on awareness, noting who made it to the formation at what altitude and being able to remember that when I landed. Only the boring are bored. Get curious about your skydives and you’ll get better.

Finally. Don’t fart in the airplane, please.

Okay that’s it. Bye y’all!

Bigway Update

If you want to know how my bigway journey is going, well, I just registered for the AZ Sector Camp this upcoming weekend. Now, I’m chanting “I’m doing everything I can to be successful at the record” and “Getting a roommate for just one month will pay off this camp” to make myself feel better. So that’s how it’s going. But I’ll see y’all at Eloy next weekend!

I often look at my last few years and think about the fact that, with all the money I spent on teams & training, Nationals, tunnel, bigway events and gear, I could have put a pretty hefty downpayment on a house or I could have put away a big nest egg. Then, my insides squirm in turmoil. My pragmatic Midwestern soul places a value judgement on what brings me happiness (which is an absurd amount of skydiving and my pursuit of skills/distinctions/achievements in the sport) and I despair, questioning why I dump so much time, effort, and money into such a silly goal. Well, it’s because I love the sport. I love the sport to an irrational level.

This post is a potpourri of thoughts from my skydiving lately, so enjoy.

How long will you be skydiving?

This question came up this weekend while riding on the plane with a rather aged 16way belly group jumping at Elsinore this weekend. While on the plane with them, waiting to taxi, I asked one of group, “What’s the cumulative years of skydiving experience on this 16way?” He estimated 16 people with approximately 30 years of skydiving each; that’s 480 years of skydiving experience, which is probably on the low end. The guy I talked to said he’s been jumping since 1968: 53 years of skydiving. So I turned to my friend in her mid-30’s and asked, “Will you be jumping in 53 years? She said, “Hell no!” (“I’ll be dead.)

It got me thinking: How long will I be skydiving? I have no idea. I’m in my early 30’s and I haven’t been doing this a full decade. I think this year will be my 8th year skydiving. How long could I reasonably do this? I would love to skydive until I’m 7,000 years old, like Dan BC. But who am I kidding? I would have to take much better care of myself, force myself to stay in shape, and skydive my butt off year after year so as to stay safe and relevant in the sport. I’m not sure I have that kind of stamina. Plus, I would have to be a badass in the first place like him too, which, I’m not. If I can be 1/4 as awesome of a skydiver as him, I’d be psyched. So maybe 7,000 years is out of the question for me.

But how long will I be in the sport? More than 20 probably; less than 50. Anyway, it was a weird thought. I’d never really sat down and pondered it before. But now I want to ask everyone else how long they expect they’ll be in the sport. I didn’t do a tandem, thinking I’d become a skydiver. I didn’t get my A License with any plan in mind. I didn’t get a belly suit thinking I’d be a competition freak and I didn’t get into freefly initially thinking I’d get into bigways. I just keep stumbling deeper and deeper into skydiving. Who knows how far into it I’ll stumble.

Doing All the Things

I both respect and find myself interested in or find myself enjoying pretty much any aspect of skydiving I try. I’ve enjoyed belly: LOing, event organizing, competition and coaching. (Guess who got on an 8way team for Nationals this year!? I’m so excited! 8way is my favorite belly event.) I enjoy freefly competition, bigways and LOing as well too. I even enjoyed my one day of CRW and I am stoked for more. I would have gotten on a lady 4way rotations team this year if MFS didn’t overlap with CRW at Nationals. (The only thing that hasn’t stuck was using my Tandem rating…)

Taking a Hard Right into Wingsuiting Land:

In addition to all the facets of skydiving I already like, I am really enjoying my new pursuit in wangsuiting, as well. Now, when I say I’m a skydiver to people and they obviously respond with “You ever tried one of them squirrel suits?”, I can say yes. Up until now, I haven’t tried it for several reasons: 1) I didn’t have enough jumps 2) When I did have enough jumps, I had a pull-out rig 3) When I got a throw-out, I didn’t want to pay for the suit and a separate wing and the training because I’m cheap. But now, Richo wants another wingsuit buddy for the days when his preferred wingsuit buddies can’t come out and play. So, I’m trying wingsuiting.

My first jump, I started with a Phantom suit borrowed from Tracy. I literally have no memory of anything anyone told me about the suit, but I can tell you it was small, both in wing-size and relative to me. I felt a little crunched when I tried to extend my legs in it. After my 3rd jump in it, I’d decided I hated wingsuiting because flying in the suit just felt… Bad. But then Richo talked me into putting on a Carve wingsuit, (also borrowed and slightly better fit for my height). And, boy howdy, did my opinions change. I liked it a lot! Turns out, if you don’t feel like your ankles are shackled together, you might enjoy yourself more. Plus, the shortness factor of the Phantom felt too.. constricted. So, anyway, I’m a wingsuiter now, ish. (I still need to land laughably far off the dropzone before I’m a real wingsuiter. I’ll work on that.) I’m in search of a 150 or a 135 wingsuit canopy. Anyone know of anything bopping around?

Back to Doing all the Things

Getting back to how I can really appreciate a lot of disciplines, I’m nurturing a growing interest in angles and swooping. Also, I’ve always been interested in getting my AFFI. Actually, I just started working through the pre-reqs to get mine. (I sat through an FJC Sunday for a pre-req; whew that was a lot of information). I’m also interested in getting my rigger’s ticket and I’d like to be a USPA competition judge too. So much to do, so little time.

Every time I try a new discipline in skydiving, I have even more respect for it. I tried doing my reserve pack job under Rigger Richo’s supervision once; it was dreadfully hard. My one day of CRW this winter made me realize it’s both very challenging and rather butt-puckering to be intentionally wrapping your limbs in your friends lines. Also, repeatedly trying to land a Lightning with slightly more grace than a somersaulting rhinoceros eluded me; I landed like a sack of potatoes most of the jumps. MFS is straight-up hard. After flying it at Nationals, I have even more awe for the teams that both score well and also make it look good, not clunking and flailing through the dive flows the way my team did last year at Nationals. It makes me sad to hear peoplefrom each discipline dis other disciplines; I know it sounds so corny but it’s all skydiving. Y’all should be nicer.

Load Organizing at Elsinore

Also, I love LOing. I just love it. I’m so thankful that Elsinore is so close by and that they really do want, need, and appreciate load organizers. I just.. I love it. I love organizing jumps for my friends and for noobs. I love ambitiously trying jumps that probably won’t work and I love smashing out a super successful skydive too. I love when I introduce rad people at the dropzone that I’m organizing. I love when people get excited about their skydiving successes, no matter how big or small. I love seeing people get better. I love jumping with people having a great time. I wish I could LO every weekend at Elsinore. But alas, life and chasing skydiving goals steals my time. So I’ll have to just content myself with once a month. I’m just so glad I get to LO at all.

Even worse than never having time for it, I’ll be moving up to NorCal pretty soon to jump at Skydive California where they don’t really need LOs, so I won’t be LOing at my home DZ. I’m anticipating putting together a regular tunnel/VFS night, so maybe that’ll scratch the itch. I’m also still planning on coming down to Elsinore about once a month if I can, to keep LOing here. I just would miss the DZ and all my pals too much to abandon it.

I have been mulling around putting together some guidelines to How I Organize. Note: I am not trying to toot my own horn. However, I have had a number of people tell me they like how I organize, both when I’ve belly LO’d and freefly LO’d. I’d really like to make a Tam’s Guide to LOing, but I don’t want to sink too much time into something that wouldn’t be useful. Would that be of use to anyone? Does that spark any interest for anyone? Maybe I’ll try a rough pass at it anyway.

ISO: Old Parachute Lines, for crafting

Lastly! I realized that old parachute lines crochet nicely into little baskets. If 1) You want a cute little crocheted basket out of parachute lines, let me know. I often just need crafts to keep my hands busy so I make a lot of things then have nothing to do with them. 2) If you’re getting a reline and want to send me the old ragged-out lines, I would love that! I am not due for a reline for a bit, and I’m out of the last set of old lines. I need more raw materials for crocheting.

Anyway, that’s my mental meandering for the week, re: skydiving. Blue Skies.

Houston

Another VWR Try Out, come and gone. It’s now even a few weeks gone… Where does the time go? I am feeling better and better about getting ready for the record each camp. Will I ever feel ready for the 200way until I’m actually in the sky with 200+ bodies? Probably not. But I’m doing everything I can to prepare. Even though my wallet hates bleeding cash to go to these events, I’m feeling reaffirmed in my decision to go to all the camps, even though I have an invite. I want to do everything I can to be ready for the 200way; Going to all the camps stacks the deck in my favor.

Short summary of the camp:

Skydive Spaceland was excellent! My first visit impressed me very much on a lot of levels, however, the women’s bathrooms dazzled. The receive an A+ for cleanliness and niceness; most DZs bathrooms only get a grade of C. The toilet paper was a topic of conversation. The dropzone overall was lovely as well. The wind didn’t cooperate with us much, but the jumps we did have went fairly well. We managed 2 jumps Friday, the first load of the day and a load near sunset. Saturday we fit in 6, but Sunday, most people changed their flights to get out of town before the jumping even started because the winds were forecasted to be raging. I’m pretty pleased with my flying.

Other Bigway Thoughts

Getting into Shape

I consider myself to be reasonably fit in regards to getting out in the world and doing things. Even when I’m not running regularly, I generally can hoof it though eight and a half minute miles for a 5k without being in too much pain. I feel pretty good about a vigorous hike, the occasional trip to the climbing gym, or what have you. I can do a couple chin-ups if I put my mind to it. But when I come to these camps, I’m always wishing I do more focused strength training.

Bigways are hard work in a lot of ways, but today I’m going to whine about how they are hard in a specific way: upper body strength and grip strength. I am woefully lacking in the strength department. I was in the base this weekend and I found that out the hard way. After fighting a hard fight, my fingers just couldn’t hold on to the tiger grip between me and Gerry. (I prefer to think of them as cinnamon roll grips. 1. Because a tiger doesn’t take grips 2. That grip in no way looks like a tiger paw, but it does look like a cinnamon roll. Plus, who doesn’t like a cinnamon roll?) The base broke up and I honestly felt bad about it. My job was to fly fast and strong, and hold on for dear life. I wasn’t able to manage that. The next few jumps, he just had to hold my wrist. So, that’s a reason to work on my grip strength.

Also, I almost fell off the plane. I’d like to make excuses about people bumping me and all that, but really, it was no different than any other bigway exit. I just gotta be stronger. So, I gotta work on my grip strength. I have cooked up a regular work-out routine to start with my chin-up bar in hopes of strengthening my hands and my forearms; I’ll keep you updated. Thus far, I’ve just managed to make my chest really sore doing it a couple times this week

I’m Glad for Belly Bigways

Every time I do one of these camps, I am so glad I did a few belly big ways before I even considered doing freefly bigways. I look at people who are experiencing all the nuances of bigways for the first time, the chaos of multiple planes, high altitude and oxygen, lots and lots of parachutes in the sky. I can imagine wading through all those complications while also having to fly on your head, on level, and dock on a formation flying at mach Jesus speeds towards the ground. That has got to be the most intimidating way to get into bigways. Honestly, I can’t be more glad I sorted out some of those other factors while doing a less challenging type of skydiving. Plus, if you think being in the air with 60 other canopies is scary, try it with 60 belly dogs. That’ll teach you to keep your head on a swivel.

Angles and Bananas

Finally, I have noticed that big way is helping my angles and angles are helping my big way. Up until recently, I would have said I’m a dreadful angle flyer. However, I’ve been flying more angles lately and I can actually stay with a group! Before, I would have immediately been dusted, watching my friends turn into specks on the horizon. But all the floating exits in big ways have been helping me practice my movement. Also, vice versa! Doing more angles is giving me the opportunity to practice movement for an entire skydive! I’m finally getting better at executing my least favorite, the least helpful piece of angle advice I’ve ever gotten: Don’t Be a Banana. Having a whole jump to just play with body position helps. What are my arms doing? What are my legs doing? If I try locking out my heels, or tightening my core, or some other body position tweak, what happens? It’s good practice! (Even if it’s different; the challenge of moving at a bigway lies in estimating how the base will speed up by the time you get to it. Angles just keep moving the whole time.) I hate to say it, but I’m finding angle jumps to be really useful for my vertical movement and sight picture.
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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

Before I really start, I want to say a big thank you to everyone who has congratulated me and wished me well. I cannot say how much the support means to me. This sport always reminds me of my connections to friends from every discipline, from dropzones all over.

In case you haven’t heard, I got a golden ticket. I’ve been cordially invited to participate in the Vertical World Record (the VWR). I’m going to get in the air with 199 other people on our heads (with ~4 camera flyers too), hold hands, and try our damndest to set a world record this year. I’m over the moon. I’m ecstatic. I’m baffled and blown away and in awe. I’m stoked. I didn’t really know if I’d get here. In fact, I sort of ended up here by accident. (But just know, from here on out, there won’t be any accident in me being on that record. Get ready for an excessive amount of blogs about how I’m preparing.)

You ready for a story?

I wish I could tell you that I’m driven by benevolent ends, by inspiration and joy and starry-eyed dreams and plans. I wish. But this story starts with much juicier emotions: spite, vindictiveness, fiery rage. This story starts with embers burning in my gut because people didn’t believe in me. And it doesn’t even start with freeflying.

So let’s go back.

It starts with me getting an unceremonious boot from XPG4. Actually, it starts slightly before that. It starts with me winning silver in Intermediate 4way FS in 2019 in Raeford. Apparently, my flying caught the attention of the powers that be, and I got invited to try out for XPG4. For y’all who aren’t in the belly world, before I even tried out, I knew XPG4 was going to be the team that took on the French women’s team, fighting to be World Champions at the next Mondial. They had the funding, some talent, and ruthless ambition. And they wanted me to try out. So, I did. And I got the slot.

But, after just a single indoor season, I got the boot more or less.
I think the direct quote was “we don’t think you have what it takes.”

Who knows? Maybe I didn’t. Maybe at the time, I was too green. Maybe I wasn’t meant to fly tail. Maybe I just didn’t perform my best under such poor leadership. Maybe maybe maybe. Maybe so many things.

All I can tell you for sure, was that I was furious. But I was also lost. I walked away from 4way FS totally disillusioned with discipline. I’d climbed the ladder, only to fall off it. What the hell was I supposed to do now? I had no interest in belly.

So What Next?

So I set my eyes on freeflying and P19. I decided to get on P19. The pandemic actually came at a great time and gave me a chance to catch up. So I worked really hard, with hopes and plans to get an invite to P19. As 2020 turned into 2021 and into 2022, it became clear that the try-outs for P19 would overlap with the VWR try-outs. If I was going to the effort of trying out for P19, why not try out for the VWR too?

If y’all read my posts, you remember that I didn’t have high ambitions for my first camp in Eloy. I honestly didn’t have high hopes for this one either. I mainly was going because I already had decided to go. I spent a lot of last week leading up to the Sebastian camp wondering if this entire record cycle would be a whole bunch of spending big money to go to camps with only Personal Growth to show for it. I kept reminding myself that this camp would be great: I love two plane shots. I would get to see my friends from the middle of the country and the East coast peeps. I’d get to go jump at Sebastian again, which is gorgeous.

The Camp

Friday: 20 ways

I was part of Rook’s group. I was hoping to have an organizer that I already knew, to put me a little more at ease. Until this weekend, I had literally only ever seen Rook, whereas I have actually gotten a little coaching here and there from some of the other organizers: Dusty has coached me in Utah. Sam helped out my VFS team @ Nationals, J. Russ spent hours of a weather hold at Summerfest talking VFS with my team. (Yes, my VFS Team trained @ Summerfest & I still maintain that it was a brilliant plan). But no dice; I didn’t have a familiar face as an organizer.

At first, I felt a little jealous of all my friends, many of whom were in a groups together. I only knew a couple people in my group which made me uneasy. As someone who loves team training largely due to the consistency it brings to my jumping, the uncertainty that comes from jumping with unknown quantities makes me nervous. It’s like the kind of nerves you get when you walk into a party and you don’t know anyone. But I was super pleased to realize Matt Congdon was in my group; I was glad to have a friendly face and someone with a ton of experience there.

Most of the people in my group were actually from elsewhere, as in from other countries. It turned out to be awesome! I made a lot of new friends, especially Bert from France. In our downtime, I had a lot of material for questions: “What’s jumping like there? What aircraft do you fly? How’s the weather? How’s the fun jump scene?” Jumping with people who flew across an ocean to tryout at this camp gave me a whole newfound appreciation for skydiving in the U.S and especially CA. Often 2 or 3 plane shots happen in my backyard. I decided to tryout in FL mostly as a lark: to visit FL, to have a travel excuse to see my long distance man-friend, to see some East coast pals. Knowing that people cross oceans to come jump here makes me grateful for the skydiving that is at my fingertips.

I am SO proud of my flying Friday. It was my best day of the camp. At this point, I’m really comfortable with 20ish-ways so I was relaxed. Plus we had a lightly loaded skyvan so exits were a piece of pie. I just felt calm and happy on all the jumps. Bonus: the fall rate was pretty reasonable. As a tall, limby person without too much weight on me (and my jumpsuit is way too flappy), I can really psych myself out if I hear that the fall rate is going to be ballistic. I flew 2 jumps as a left hand 1st stinger (generally a strong choice for me), and then 2 jumps right hand 2nd stinger. For our last jump, we did an everyone-floats “speed star” where we chunked a 2way base out of the skyvan last and everyone floated up to meet it. (But instead of a true speed star, we were going for precision and control instead of speed). I put myself nice and in the middle… honestly, I didn’t want too much of a challenge. My flying Friday is the best flying I have ever done in my life. I can’t wait to get the videos back from that day.

Saturday:

I was part of Brad and Garret’s group. Again, I didn’t really know either organizer. I believe I met Garret ad Brad while doing the women’s head down record in WI this summer at Skydive Midwest. I did know quite a few more people on my group for the 40ish ways but that’s to be expected when you double the group size. The weather was poo. Friday night, we already bumped our start time back to 10am. We waited for the pea soup clouds to clear for hours. I enjoyed the ground time catching up with friends from the other side of the U.S., but I was ready to jump.

Because of weather we only got two jumps in. I was pod closing behind Brad. I had my favorite exit slot in the otter- front float. I’d spent all day with a vague anxiety, worrying about pod closing every time I thought about it – so I avoided thinking about it. As a pod closer, you have to do TWO things. One thing for each hand, holding hand with people on your left and right who may not be on the same level. Also, you are expected to have excellent levels AND keep your pod lined up squarely behind the person in the base. AND you need to shape out, pushing out the grips strongly to give your pod stability as well as giving whackers and bridge line folks a nice place to grip. In short, it’s a slot for ninjas. I was a haystack of nerves. (I did manage to ignore them all day up until it was about at a 10 minute call.)

The first jump went pretty well… obviously I nit pick my flying. I could have better levels and I could have flown quieter but I gave myself a pass for nerves. However, I walked away from jump two feeling pretty pooey. Our second jump was at sunset. Weird things happen at sunset. The start of the jump seemed fine. I approached, docked and tried to shape out the pod. I adjusted my levels only to find that I was drifting and couldn’t stay behind Brad. After fixing the pod alignment, I had to fight to get on level again, only to find myself on level but not behind Brad again. I couldn’t seem to do all of my duties at the same time. I was so confused; why was nothing working? I landed, beating myself up. Only after landing did I realize the entire formation had noticeable spin and was nuking towards the earth, and I felt a little better for not being able to really nail the pod closer slot the way I hoped to.

Sunday:

I initially planned to leave early on Sunday; I didn’t think I’d be flying in particularly well or poorly so I didn’t think missing a jump would be a problem. However, I’d been getting compliments on my flying, even from people in different groups. I started to feel the spark of potential, but I didn’t want to hope too hard. I resolved to stay for all the jumps, even if I missed my flight.

We fit in four jumps. The first two I was in the base. While I live in fear of having to fly super fast, I like being in the base. You get to focus on your form, your stability, and your awareness in the skydive. On jumps 3 and 4, I approached from the R trail otter to be a left hand 1st stinger on the base. The 3rd jump went solidly fine. No more, no less. Instability in the formation behind me forced me to really focus on my levels. The 4th jump, the superfloat from the sky van went before the trail plane was ready so the whole trail otter had a wicked dive. I got there fine but was so rattled by the dive that I stressed and didn’t take a great dock. Like Chazi says, “Step 1: Panic”. It made me realize that I really need to spend time visualizing non-optimal scenarios in big ways to prepare. I landed, laughing. Historically, my last jump of a team training camp or other skills camp goes Not As Planned. It’s just fitting that my big way try-out camp goes the same way.

I was so pleased with this camp on so many levels. Richo, Chip, Pitts and I squeezed in a 4way freefly jump doing a customary HU round exit but smashing Pitt’s head on the door. (She’s a-Okay; thanks G4!) People hung around to shoot the shit after and everyone seemed pretty pleased- a job well done. The camp was run really well with useful debriefs, effective dirt dives, and good pacing (outside of uncontrollable weather). Good people, good attitudes. Good days, good jumps.

Sunday Night:

We were driving back toward the airport and Richo got his score card pretty quickly. As the minutes ticked past, I took it as confirmation of how well I’d flown. I realized that I was actually being considered. I still didn’t really believe I’d get an invite. There were so, so, so many excellent flyers there. What chance did I even have to out fly that many people? But, all of a sudden, I get an email. And I got an invite.

The Aftermath

I sit here on Wednesday night, still in awe of it all. I can’t hardly believe it. I have so, so much work to do. Currently, I’m laying out my training plain. I’m still going to the Eloy camp in March and the Houston camp in April. I’m seriously thinking about the last chance camp in June if there is room. (Anyone want to buddy up to share a car and lodging??) In the mean time, I’ll stay busy load organizing in Socal, fun jumping at Skydive Cal in Tracy, and hitting the tunnel in between. I’m laying out my plan for visualizing skydives, aiming to visualize every day and to watch videos a couple times a week, to both debrief myself and other on jumps. Tune in to future blogs for updates. If you’re interested in what I do to train and prepare, let me know. I can promise you, it’s a lot.

I don’t feel like I’ve had time to really reflect on it fully. Am I surprised that I got an invite to the VWR? A little. I’m surprised I got one at this camp. I’m not surprised I got one. If I set my mind to something, there is very little that will get in my way. I wanted to be good enough to be an obvious choice to be on the Project 19 102way; I figured that would get me good enough to qualify for the outskirts of a 200way. But I assumed that I’d be duking it out for one of the last remaining slots at the Last Chance camp. But I’m happy I got one now. I feel justified completely diving in to prepare for this, without reservations. I know I would have had doubts before every camps, wondering if it’s worth the money, the time, the effort, to not get an invite. Now I know that every shred of effort is going to be worth it so that when I arrive at the VWR, I can say I’ve done every single thing possible to prepare, never second guessing that I didn’t do enough.

How do I feel?

Vindicated. I can’t help thinking “Woe unto anyone who doesn’t believe in me. That’s def going to be your loss.” (Sucks to suck, XPG4. I would have been a killer tail if you’d kept me around. Guess I’ll go get on a world record instead.) Intimidated. I feel intimidated for sure. The people who are already invited are legends. The other people who will be invited are legends. How did I get here? Grateful. Just happy to be here. Thankful for all the friends I’ve made along the way, thankful for the coaches I’ve had, the path that’s gotten me here. So, so, so, so thankful for my person, my significant other, for all his support. I could write volumes about the way Richo supports me and believes in me. I won’t bore you, but he deserves the Manfriend of the Year Award for his patience, support, humor in putting up with the chaos of me. (Yes. Manfriend. Because he’s a man, not a boy) Proud. Proud of myself. Proud with a healthy dose of realism. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. I know that this is a huge accomplishment for me. But does anyone else in the rest of the world care? Not really. I’m doing this for me, not to impress the rest of the world. I’m chasing these records for myself.

Mid-2020, my best friend in skydiving up and croaked out of the blue from heart failure. I never saw it coming. But Kellie was my biggest advocate. She believed in me, unquestioningly. I miss her all the time. How do I feel about getting this invite? I wish she was around, so I could tell her all about it. That’s the thought that’s gone through my brain the most in the last few days. Only followed by “Holy shit. I have so much work to do.”

What’s Next?

Let me know if you hear of any 2 or 3 plane shots happening. Let me know if you want to fly in the tunnel. Let me know if you’re interested in coming to single plane shots, if I try to organize something in the SoCal region (purely selfishly, for my own practice). Gotta stay on my A Game!

Teaser for my next blog: Guess who is going to cheer on their zoom-boy when he goes to Australia to compete in canopy piloting Nationals there? Hint: it’s me. Also, I’ll write about the rest of my Florida trip soon too. Just so many things going on!!

Lady ways for days, literally! Nov 12th, 13th and 14th a slew of women all got together at GoJump Oceanside and did some record attempts! It was an incredibly successful weekend. In two days, we knocked out 3 records:

• CA Women’s Headdown 1pt record 17way
• CA Women’s Headdown 2pt record 17way
• CA General Headdown 2pt record 19way (ladies + Beau Kahler)

<Link to the baller edit from the weekend here>

The smooth DZ operations, the beautiful weather, the talented jumpers, and the great attitudes made for an easy weekend.

GoJump Oceanside played host to us ladies, making the event not just smooth and seamless, but super enjoyable. We fit in 5 jumps a day, taking the Caravan up to 15k to give us a little extra working time. We had our own hangar area to pack and debrief. The DZ even generously took us out to dinner at a cute little place in Oceanside Friday evening.

Jaz and Jessie organized a great record; they pulled in awesome talent. Every woman there earned her slot, flying amazing. We didn’t even need to reorganize slots to accommodate anyone. On Day 1 Jump 2, we knocked out the 1pt record. I think Jump 5 that day we knocked out the 2pt record. In between, we tried for the CA Women’s 3pt record a few times. Day 2, we tried for the 3pt record a few more times, and knocked out the CA 2pt record the first attempt we tried it. Day 3, we tried the 3pt once more, then moved into fun jump sequentials. (After jump 2, an airplane drove off the runway at the airport, so that stalled operations for the day and we called it.)

The ladies brought an awesome supportive attitude and flew really strong. I could count on all the members of the team to fly their part. If there were struggles, like bumping on exit, we talked through it, no finger-pointing, no infighting. I had a lovely time just meeting new ladies and spending time with friends.

Before getting into freefly records this summer, my only record attempt left me unenthused. Actually, I gave up on records after the CO Women’s Belly record attempt in 2017. While we had generous DZ support, we didn’t have the talent pool. Despite the fact that we had two planes going up to 16k AGL in CO (where the DZ is at 5k), between the short freefall and the lack of belly talent locally, we couldn’t get the record. We also didn’t have organizers that were willing to move people around as necessary to organize for success. I walked away from that record being (selfishly) disheartened and a little put off by records. However, this record experience was night-and-day different. I left the CA record weekend very pleased with the results.

Two things I walked away pondering

What does good organization look like for a record?

I’ve done skills camps. I’ve done other events that aren’t skills specific, like some big-way belly things. I know what those look like, from a briefing, debriefing, and coaching standpoint. But what should I expect from a record? I assumed there should be minimal coaching and briefing needed. But then, what if important things aren’t being said in the briefing or debriefing? As a participant, when is it appropriate to speak up? How do you do that? Is it worth speaking up, because you want the thing to work or is that disrespectful? If you’ve got feedback, how do you give it? Or do you just… not?

For example: on our 3pt attempts, the 2nd point was a 6way base with whacker lines. Moving to the 3rd pt, a few grips dropped in the base and we would open up to a BFR. However, as everyone knows for any BFR, everyone has to drive to the center. If any grip in a BFR drops, the easiest way to fix it is to drive to the center. Everyone should know that. Everyone should proactively do that. But people don’t always fly to the center. I would expect “drive towards the center” to be worth highlighting in the briefing. If it’s not, what do you do? What if the reason that 3rd point isn’t building is because the group isn’t driving to the center? What if the organizer isn’t addressing that? Answer: idk. But if you know, please tell me. My take away is that I want to try to organize some records or events and see how I do. Then maybe I will have some thoughts on it.

Either way, I was super impressed with the team effort over the weekend. The organizers did a great job coordinating the event and we killed it in the sky.

Are “women’s records” a good thing?

After we called it on Sunday, a few of us gathered over beers and inevitably, we started down this road of discussion. Opinions went both ways: Well, why do we need a women-centric thing? Can’t women be as good as men? Are these records worth less than general/co-ed records? What’s the purpose? Are they overall a good thing? Or a bad thing?

I have spent some time thinking about this. I’ve been doing “women-centric” things in the sport for a bit: Won an gold in indoor 4way belly, but it was the women’s medal. Got a couple women’s records under my belt now. Participated in WSN Mobile mentor program. I’m trying to get on Project19 and mulling over the 200way, and I’ve even wondered if I get on Project19, but not the 200way, will it feel like less of an achievement?

So what do I think? Are women’s records a good thing?
I think yes.

For a couple reasons:
A. Community. Women-centric events builds community. I’ve made new friends at every P19 even and every women’s record that I attend. Women are so much more likely to stay in the sport when they feel connected. These events help build friendships, build support and community. I think that’s one of the hugest advantages; it’s a large reason why I do them.

B. Attainability. This isn’t the case for every women, but I think it is worth mentioning. Women’s records feel attainable in a way that co-ed records don’t. For me, the idea of trying to get onto a super-competitive co-ed record when I’m still relatively new to this intimidates me. For example, knowing that I’m trying to get onto a record that people who coach me are getting on just feels… weird. Honestly, knowing that the pool is smaller, (and less cut-throat from my experience) builds up my confidence. I think women-centric events can feel more attainable and this matters to some women.

C. Aspiration and spotlight. Finally, I think the hype that women-centric events gets is really important. It’s important to highlight achievement because it sets an example for other women. For me, I tend to look at someone and think “If they can do it, I certainly can”. I want other women to look at me and think that. I think women-centric events can inspire other women to push themselves to think bigger, to aspire to more.

TLDR:

Great weekend. Pleased as punch to have 3 more records under my belt, especially the CA co-ed record. Organizing things is hard, but I still want to get into it. Women-centric events are important.

Big thanks to GoJump Oceanside for hosting us and being amazing. Big thanks to Jazmyne Martinez and Jessie Thompson for organizing and inviting me. Thanks to all the other awesome women who made it super fun! Thanks to Chad Ross and Beau Kahler for flying video for us and making us look rad.

I’m sponsored! #spono’d What does that mean?? For me, that means a close relationship representing the brands that I love, working with them to spread the good word of how rad they are and how rad their products are, to represent the awesome things they do for the sport, and to help them make their products better. What does that mean in practice? I’m still figuring that out… more mulling on that below.

But the question you’re desperately wondering

By who?

UPT!

I’m so excited! I’ve jumped a handful of different types of rigs over the years, and I’ve settled on Vectors. While I’ve only owned used Vectors at this point, I love them. They’re super comfy and super durable (thus why I have used vectors). I’m excited to rep a brand that is the epitome of quality.

Spoiler alert: I’m midway through designing a second #colorbarf rig! The original #colorbarf rig was insanely colorful. This time though, I’ve got a very colorful yet slightly toned-down concept in mind. I’m working with Leah Levy on it and I can’t wait to see what we end up with.

Option Studios!

This sponsorship came about so organically. While at Chicks Rock, I chatted with Adam Buckner and Camille Ruper at the Option Studios tent. I gushed about how I love their jerseys and we hit it off! I’ve been rocking a rasta-design Option jersey this summer and I just want more of them. I’m obsessed with their unisex jerseys, but I can’t wait to try their ladies cut too. Soon, I’m going to work with them to design a Colorbarf jersey that they’re going to sell in their marketplace! I’m trying to think of what kind of look I’d be excited to wear, a design that highlights all the uniqueness of #colorbarf. Either way, if you’ve seen my team jerseys for Nationals, you know they’re going to be loud. Keep your eyes out 🙂

How did all this even happen?

Well, I got up the nerve to ask! Why did I ask? Because a lot of people told me that I’m good enough, and I’m glad I listened.

I’d been interested in partnering with some sponsors but I didn’t know where to start. I didn’t feel like I was good enough to get sponsored. Why? Because up until somewhat recently, I dated a guy who told me I wasn’t good enough, that sponsors wouldn’t want me. He made it clear that he thought I wasn’t impactful enough in the sport. (He also made it clear that he thought I wasn’t a very good freeflyer and that my belly achievements were not worthy of much respect. Ugh. Boo him.) But unfortunately, I listened to him. I couldn’t see past his opinions to realize that I actually have a lot to bring to the table. Fortunately, I have amazing, encouraging friends (and a new supportive significant other) to see all the things I’ve already done for the sport, and accept that I totally deserve a sponsorship.

Since moving to SoCal, I’ve been welcomed into an awesome girl squad of talented flyers. Not only are they talented, they are kind and fun and accepting. They encourage me to keep stepping out of my comfort zone. They have made me feel at home in CA and at home in freeflying. Also, also, I can’t ever forget to mention my friend Eric Daniel from my team Kombucha Punch. He never misses an opportunity to tell me I’m a badass. He says he wants to be like me when he grows up. When I told him I decided to seek out sponsorship, he immediately responded with hearty, enthusiastic support. I have the very best friends. And while I shouldn’t need them to boost my self-confidence, I appreciate the way they always lift me up.

So why didn’t I have the nerve before?
I spent a lot of time thinking I wasn’t qualified to be sponsored. I thought that you have to have world records, that you have to win Open class medals at Nationals, that you have to run bigway camps and be tunnel coach and have a cult following. I thought that you had to be a big name load organizer. But that’s not the case. You just have to carve out your niche.

And, while I’m still figuring out my niche, I can say I’ve done quite a lot in the sport already. I have load organizing experience at Dropzones and boogies. I have a lot of competition experience, as well as experience on teams, training with teams, building teams. I spent a lot of time and energy running successful tunnel events in Colorado. I work to excel at the disciplines I do. In 7 years, I’ve done 1700 skydives, countless events, and already done a lot in the sport. I’ve done enough know the skydiving gear I like and to start building this relationship with my sponsors, to bring them along for the wild ride that is Everything-Else-I-Am-Going-to-Accomplish.

Mostly, I’m just so glad I’ve surrounded myself with people who support me and see me for who I am; I’m so grateful that my sponsors are excited to work with me.

So what now?!

I am still figuring it out. It’s taken me a couple weeks to even write this post and collect my thoughts here. There is so much opportunity here; I want to make the most of it!

With these sponsorships, I want to figure out how to use them to…

• support women in the sport
• encourage people to dip their toes into competition skydiving
• to share what I’ve learned in the sport
• to maybe get involved in USPA to help improve the association that enables our sport

If you have thoughts about how I can use my new platform to make strides in any of these areas, I want to chat!

I did Nationals! Man, I’m glad to be done. Whew. For an event that I tend to love, this year felt like… A slog? Yeah. A slog.

I love competition. This year didn’t exactly pan out how I thought: some things sparked joy! Some things left me a bit forlorn?

I really, really loved a few things about Nationals this year. I did MFS and VFS for the first time; now I’m obsessed. While I’m always shooting for podium finishes and we didn’t quit hit that, (solidly last in VFS, and mid-pack in MFS), I’d call it a success. It’s like the first year I flew 4way belly at a Nationals; despite the teams essentially being pickup teams, I got the bug for new disciplines.

MFS

For MFS, Richõ and I flew inside, trying our very best to hide all the grips from our camera flyer Hiley. Hiley crushed our dreams of getting donuts across the board, flying super excellent. His flying was especially impressive, considering that he doubled his jumps for the year on our warm-up day going from 7 jumps in 2021 to 14. Plus, this was his first Nationals! I love the excitement of a First Nationals; sharing the electric experience of oodles of competitive skydivers all at one DZ gets me giddy. I love competition and I relish the opportunity to get other skydivers addicted to Nationals and teams.

MFS really reinforced my attitudes about clean flying: It’s important, sometimes the difference between winning and losing. I generally aim for zero busts in competition. Some people find that attitude to be hard-nosed and unforgiving but I really, really value clean flying. However, for MFS, I had to reset my expectations. After one of the rounds, we got super psyched when we saw we got a seven as our score (our best score up to that point!), only to realize on watching our video that we also busted seven points. Whatever. This many busts seems fitting, considering one name we considered was All Power, No Finesse. But next year, I’m going to aim for a less than 50% bust rate in MFS. Shoot for the moon.

MFS might be the most fun discipline I’ve flown. The quirky transitions, like slamming vertical mixed accordions down to flat, are so fun. You can get creative and weird with it; it’s so much less prescriptive than the belly flying training I’ve done. I love that. Because it’s only two inside flyers, I’m realizing the personal dynamics are even more important than 4way. I’ve flown a couple days of MFS with someone that I don’t gel with and the results approximately equal screwing up a baking a delicious cake: It should be something that everyone enjoys, but it’s actually terrible. I have a lot more respect for the disciplines that involve only 2 inside flyers instead of 4 inside flyers now.

VFS

VFS might be my favorite discipline now. It rewards measured, precise flying like 4way FS but is so much more challenging. Maybe I like it so much because it holds so much challenge for me. My transitions are floaty and my sit fly is slow. Hiley, Richõ and I grabbed Yanni, who flew camera for my tummy team, to make up the inside flyers and Wade Baird flew camera. (Richô would like you to know that he asked every person with a pulse to fly camera. And their dog)

VFS was incredibly fun. Since we were a pick-up team, there was no expectation to fly that well. We launched a G (mixed round) when the first point was an 11, just for funzies. We picked who got to do the fun bits of skydives (like the head up slot of the C, shoeshine or the solo flyer on the 1, arrowhead) based on who wanted to, not which slot conventionally flew that. It was fun to be unconstrained by “this is how we do it”; if I get more serious about VFS, I’ll buy into the dogma of doing things the right way. But it’s fun to just cobble it together too.

Another major perk of Nationals: Yanni and I were cross partners! Until this point, I’ve only flown with him as my camera flyer for 4way which is a really different relationship. Only recently have I tried to describe the relationship between 4way FS teams and camera flyers and I did a poor job at it. But trying to describe it caused me to appreciate how different flying inside with someone is. Anyway, Yanni starred in one of my favorite skydiving moments of Nationals: Hiley, flying center, slid backwards and Richò started chasing him. The whole VFS jump took on the personality of an angle and Yanni and I looked at each other, more and more confused. But before we could really get moving on our VFS angle, Yanni reach out and stiff-armed Richo. Our 35 seconds of working time ends perfectly with a freeze frame of it.

What happened to my VFS team, The Flying V? It didn’t pan out. Someone once made the comparison that skydiving teams function more like bands than like “sports teams”. That comparison seems appropriate here. Anyway, one member had to step out for work reasons (an understandable bummer). Which left us 3 to decide whether we should fly at Nationals as a pickup team, find someone to train with for a couple camps, or to just not fly at Nationals at all. The other two had heavily invested in MFS training this season and weren’t sure whether they wanted the distraction of a pick-up VFS team. How do you juggle priorities and time/money constraints? How do you have tricky conversations about that? I don’t have good answers. Believe it or not, sometimes I’m bad at voicing my needs and wants, so instead of pushing for a decision, I waited to hear what they were thinking for a couple months. I really wanted to fly VFS at Nationals, no matter what, and I should have said that from the outset. As Nationals crept up and registration day was just a few days away, I reverted to action and got on a pick-up team instead. I really wish The Flying V had gotten to fly together because we had such a fun time training together, but Nationals happens.

I think my take away is simply to just be comfortable asking for what I want: In this case, just asking for a decision within a certain time frame instead of being discontent in waiting.

4Way FS

Kombucha Punch, named after the black eye I had at our first team meeting, flew ten rounds and did our very best to have fun. I spent a lot of time hemming and hawing about 4way this year. I honestly felt like I’d spread myself too thin, trying to 4way FS, VFS, and Project 19 events. I kept feeling like I wasn’t giving my all to anything, and thus, flying poorly at everything. True or not, that’s an awful feeling. We aimed to have 100ish jumps by the end of this season but got closer to 80. Frankly, it’s mentally difficult for me to come to Nationals feeling under-trained and unprepared. I didn’t bring my very best, and I hate that. That’s exactly how I felt this year. At our last camp, our exits rolled over and died on us. The timing of the count seemed off. Indeed, the heartbeat of the team seemed weak and erratic. I realized that I don’t actually really like flying tail very much either. Quite honestly, I hate 10s and suck at them. But I love flying the back piece of the 8 and the 22. Long story short, I had fun but my personal 4way performance left me a little dismayed. I think I am going to take a break from 4way for a year or two to let my thoughts about what I want coagulate. (Unless someone some baby player-coach team needs a coach. That sounds fun.) Maybe I’ll do a pick-up 8way team or a slightly-trained 8way team next year, because 8way is my real, true love.

Welp, there it is. Nationals. Over and done. After having a really quiet 2020, getting back into the 2021 groove of teams and training drained me more than I expected. My stamina for travel and training is much diminished and I’m building it back up. In the mean time, lots of other excitements are happening! I’m going to the Women’s CA Vertical Sequential record next weekend, getting canopy coaching, going to try a CRW camp. I’m looking to go to 200way & P19 try-outs in Eloy and Sebastian probably. Hoping to keep paragliding and use my snowboard pass some this winter too.

ALSO: MY GO-FAST HOOLIGAN BOYFRIEND BROKE SOME RECORDS AT CP NATIONALS AND FLCPA. He also is very charming. Can you tell he noticed my omission of canopy nationals in the first draft?

I was worried ’bout forgetting so I tattooed it on my chest.

-The Weeks, Brother in the Night

I really love the song Brother in the Night by The Weeks. I love a whole lot about it, but that lyric above is something I’ve been thinking about recently. Why? I got a chest tattoo. Wait, just kidding.

No, that lyric makes me think about my helmet and, specifically, the side plates on my G4. I wonder if people notice that I still rock side plates from the team that holds the distinction of being far and away the most miserable experience of my skydiving career, a team experience that completely killed my interest in formation skydiving and 4way belly. Surprise! Mostly people don’t notice at all. Or if they do, the significance is lost on them. A very few people have asked me about it.

So why do I still rock a helmet and side plates from a team that taught me a lot in the same way that touching a hot stove teaches you never to do that again? Wait, I just explained right there. For me, choosing to use this helmet every skydive is my version of ‘tattooing it on my chest’. Every single jump I’m reminded of something incredibly important, something I learned from that team.

That helmet reminds me to be very, very intentional about who I spend my time with.

Why this blog now? Because I am actually on a 4way FS team again, Kombucha Punch. Wait, didn’t I just say I had called it quits on belly? Oh yes, I did. But I got an offer I couldn’t refuse; I got an offer to spend a handful of weekends training this year with some great friends, working collaboratively and thoughtfully with each other to improve as skydivers. And by that, I mean, I get on a team that actively cares about each other.

Before I had the offer to be on XPG4, I’d put together a 4way FS team with one of my previous teammates on Stockholm Syndrome. We carefully selected the other 2 and were off to the races. Then I got the invite to try out for XPG4. Because my team really did want what is best for me, they saw XPG4 as an opportunity I couldn’t/shouldn’t pass up. I didn’t quit the team; the guys urged me to go and take the opportunity fate had dropped in my lap because they wanted to see me succeed. So I helped them find my replacement, and we said goodbye.

Fast-forward a bit: XPG4 and I parted ways. I started freeflying and moved to CA. Then I got a phone call from the team. My substitute had moved on and my slot was open again. Did I want my slot back? Hell yes, I did. I wanted to spend time with these peeps.

Our rule for scheduling was simple: Whoever could do the least, that’s what we did. I’m on a VFS team and chasing P19 dreams. Bob, our point, is heavily into tandems. Eric, our OC is trying to get his AFFI rating this year and is coaching a number of CO 4way teams. Ian is full up to the brim too with other teams and big way commitments. Our team is booked. But we decided that doing this team in a way that kept everyone sane was the only way we wanted to do it.

In the end, we’ll have 4 camps. I went into the first one in a bad head space. Due to other complicated goings-on in my life, I didn’t even know if I wanted to do the other camps. I was just in a bummed-out place. But in expressing that to Eric, he said “I want you to be happy. If this team isn’t going to make you happy this season, I understand. I want to fly with you. But more importantly, I want you to be happy.” There is something so freeing, knowing that you can truly express yourself to your teammates without worry of judgement.

After that camp, I got my head on straight and realized, of course, that I wanted to continue. We’ve had 2 camps since and I’ve loved them. Our flying is improving. We’re moving more in sync and communicating better. We work through problems and hiccups as a team, being supportive and open and honest. We come to solutions that work for everyone because we care about each other and I think that shows in our flying. Supporting each other, lifting each other up, will get us farther in the end.

So how’s that working for us? Pretty well. We’ve had a couple come-to-jesus moments. I’ve struggled being too torn across disciplines to feel like I’m giving this team my all, and I’ve recommitted to visualizing and meditation to get me competition ready for Nationals (and sworn off drinking until after Nationals as well, to keep my head clear and keep me getting good sleep). We’ve had to talk about productive ways to communicate frustrations about jumping keys. We’ve debated strongly about what exits to take to Nationals and how we handle our camps to make sure everyone feels like we’re getting the most benefit in the short time we have. (1’s and 20’s? More creeping? Quads? Extra tunnel?) But we have all these discussions with the team in mind. And you know what? We’re having fun. Team goal number 1: Have fun.

We do have some decent goals for ourselves for Nationals too. I’d love to see us come away with zero busts because clean flying is a point of pride for me. I want double digit scores on the board every round. I want no exploded exits, which means we’re probably only taking out a couple of randoms, instead of exiting the gamut. I want to see us achieving a 14 point average too. Lofty isn’t the right word, but I’d say these goals will push us sufficiently.

I’m grateful for these folks every day and I will say it again and again to people joining a team: Be smart about who you choose to spend your time with. My mentor, Christy Frikken, once described her teammates as ‘Ride or Die’ and I’m taking that to heart. These are my Ride-or-Die Peeps. Kombucha Punch 4eva.

(Really, ditto for my 4way VFS team, The Flying V. I love those ladies a lot and I just ran out of blog space. They’ll get a whole ‘nother blog to themselves sometime.)

[This is v2 of this blog. In v1, I realized I was a little dickish in some of my phrasing. So if you were offended, I’m sorry.]