My First Skydiving Experience

"What have I gotten myself into?" I thought as I scribbled my initials for the thirtieth time on the longest waiver I'd ever seen. I hadn't been nervous at all in the week leading up to my first tandem skydive, until the moment I read through the extremely thorough legal document that forces you to acknowledge over and over again how your decision to jump could result in your injury or death. It was a little unnerving to say the least. 

I've always wanted to try skydiving, so when my cousin, Savannah, told me she was going for her birthday, I eagerly agreed to jump with her. Our first appointment was canceled due to cloudy weather, but we rescheduled for the next day and I'm so glad we did. It was a beautiful, sunny day with blue cloudless skies and perfect visibility.

Dallas Skydive Center is about 45 minutes northeast of downtown Dallas. We arrived and checked in at the hangar, where we met the staff and our instructors, the people we were ultimately entrusting with our lives. They helped us into our harnesses and quickly went over the rules and instructions for executing a safe jump. My mind was hardly in a calm enough state to remember the order and timing of each thing I was supposed to do in the air. But there was no time to hesitate or back out. We were both ushered into the back of what looked like a miniature toy plane.

My instructor looked very young, like he could have been 29 or 19. His electric blue mohawk made me wonder if it was the latter. As we ducked into the plane, I asked him, "So Ben, how many times have you done this?"

"How many times would make you feel comfortable?" he replied.

"I don't know, somewhere in the triple digits at least."

"Well then let's go with exactly 100."

Okay, cool. He might be new. It's totally fine. I'm totally fine. It's gonna be fine.

The plane took off and we began to make wide circles as we climbed to higher altitudes. My cousin pointed out downtown Dallas far off in the distance. I smiled and nodded, trying not to reveal how much I was freaking out internally. Once we reached 13,500 feet, it was time to jump. The door flew open to a deafening rush of cold wind and I watched as Savannah and her instructor stepped out and disappeared. That's when the reality of it hit me. This was really happening!

As we prepared to go next, Ben turned to me and said, "I was just messing with you earlier. I've been doing this for nine years and have over a thousand jumps logged." Oh, thank God! We scooted to the ledge. I put on my goggles. Ben placed his left foot on the rail and I followed suit. I then couldn't remember whose right foot was supposed to go out first, but I didn't have long to think about it. The next thing I knew, we were jumping and falling at hundreds of feet per second. During the 50 second free fall, the wind pushed against my face, giving me massive chipmunk cheeks and chapped lips and I knew there was no way any of the GoPro photos that were being snapped were going to be flattering. And I was definitely right about that.

Suddenly the parachute released, bringing an instant sense of relief. I thanked God as we slowly drifted back to safe ground. The houses and backyards and tiny swimming pools moved in slow motion like a film sequence beneath my feet. It was surreal and exhilarating and I felt fully alive in that moment.

A video posted by leah richardson (@leahrichardson) on Jun 8, 2016 at 1:45pm PDT

I can't help but marvel at the timing of this skydiving experience. On the Tuesday before my jump, I received some pretty big news about my company that ordinarily would have caused me to stress and worry and be anxious. But if I've learned anything in the last three years, it's that God is good and His timing is perfect and I can fully trust in Him. When I reflect on other times in my life that were marked my uncertainty and doubt, I'm able to now see God's faithfulness in bringing me through those situations and out of fear and into greater joy.

I know that I could very well be in for a bumpy road ahead. Between job searching and preparing for a big trip abroad, a lot could go wrong in the next month or two. But I know that there are good things in store for me and I've been blessed with a wonderful community who will help support me along the way.

For God doesn't give us a spirit of fear, but one of power and love and self control (2 Timothy 1:7). Beginning a new chapter may be terrifying, but as I step out into the unknown, I know that the parachute will eventually open, the clouds will part, and I'll land safely on my feet again.

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:6-7

Learning How to Surf

If signing a four-month lease on an apartment in the eastern suburbs when I didn't have a job wasn't stupid impulsive enough, immediately afterwards, I registered for a week-long surfing camp. I've always wanted to know how to surf, and I knew it was something I had to do when I came to Australia. By learning at the beginning of my trip, I would never have to turn down an opportunity to catch some waves. I also realized that once I started working as a casual employee, it would be virtually impossible to ask off for five days in a row. So for the week, I cast aside my troubles about job hunting and money, and lived the Aussie saying of "no worries."

Surf Camp was everything that I imagined life in Australia would be like. I lived in a cabin at a campsite in a tiny village called Gerroa, several hours south of Sydney. In my room were three bunk beds that were shared between me and five other guys (two from Sweden, two from Germany, and one from England). The campsite was only a short walk away from Seven Mile Beach, which offers the perfect conditions for beginning surfers--small waves, sandy ocean floors, and minimal wind. For five days I lived on the beach. I didn't wear makeup, fix my hair, or have to worry about what I was going to wear, because we were all there for one purpose-- to learn how to surf.

I would love to say that Surf Camp was the perfect relaxing holiday, but that would be a far cry from the truth. Our daily schedule was as follows:

Breakfast 8:00-9:00

Wetsuits on by 9:00

1st lesson 9:30-11:30

Lunch 12:30-1:30

Wetsuits on by 2:30

2nd lesson 3:00-5:00

Dinner 6:30-7:30

As it turns out, surfing is really difficult. I naively believed that by being a decent swimmer and spending years of summer vacations in the ocean, I would inherently be good at it. I couldn't have  been more wrong. Surfing is definitely an extreme sport, and I'm no extreme athlete. Each two hour lesson began with a run along the beach and a series of stretches. I struggled to carry my heavy, nine-foot surf board the quarter-mile stretch from the main road to the beach. By the end of the day, I was exhausted and curled up in my bed by 10:00 pm.

Winter was still ending in NSW so the water was anything but warm. I'm convinced my wetsuit (which was tight, uncomfortable & made me look like a seal) had a hole in it, because no matter what I did, it always seemed to let the cold water inside. It usually took me about ten minutes to adjust to the water temperature at the beginning of each lesson. I remember one morning in particular when the sun was masked by thick layers of clouds, and I couldn't manage to get warm. I spent half the lesson lying helplessly on my board, too frozen to move, wondering if this is how Rose felt at the end of The Titantic. 

Surf Camp is good for serving your ego a healthy dose of humility. Not only were my small group members and instructors able to watch the glory of me falling off the board and nosediving repetitively, there was also a photographer on site to capture the moments on film so that all 70 campers could see at our daily slideshows after lunch & dinner. On multiple occasions the slideshow was paused so that I could be made an example of "what not to do" or just so everyone could laugh which was actually less painful than the prior. My favorite day was our last lesson during which we were divided into teams for a relay competition. Each team member had to run into the cold surf, ride a wave, standing for more than three seconds, pick up the heavy board and run back to the beach and tag the next in line. Our team came in last place. It brought back haunting P.E. memories of elementary school.

{all images via Surf Camp Australia}

Despite being the worst wannabe surfer that ever lived, I'm really glad I attended Surf Camp. I learned a lot about the types of waves, currents, winds and tides, and I actually stood up on my board multiple times.  I crossed an item off my bucket list and came back to Sydney with new friends, new knowledge, sand on everything I own, and a lovely wetsuit tan line. 

The Unexpected Twists and Turns

I was honored when I was approached by an editor of the campus newspaper, The Daily Skiff, and asked if I would write a reflection piece on my college experience for the graduation issue. How does one sum up a life-changing four-year experience into 500 words or less? Well, I didn't exactly meet the 500 word requirement, but here's a link to my very first published story: http://www.tcu360.com/opinions/2012/04/15338.college-years-present-many-pleasant-surprises. I have to admit, I kind of like seeing my words neatly printed upon paper in black ink. One of my goals in life is to have my writing published, and although this is a tiny feat, I think it counts enough to cross it off my list for the time being.