“Three.” The voice came from behind, startling me out of my gaping. I stood frozen to the spot, 80 metres above the shallow creek far, far below me. What was I doing here? I couldn’t do this. It was easy to watch another person take the leap, arms outstretched and reaching for the walls of the canyon. It hadn’t been until my toes were on the edge of the platform that the building nervousness exploded out of me. It felt like every part of me was frozen in this second, screaming inside my immobile body. I just couldn’t will myself to move.
I had promised myself I would do this. I wanted to follow through with the promise, so badly. Of course, this was easier said than done. I had never felt such paralysing fear before and it felt like I wouldn’t be able to push myself to do this. A smaller part of me was excited, rearing at the challenge to move out of my comfort zone. It was too small to be heard above my more insistent, terrified side.
“Two.” The instructor continued his countdown from behind me. No, I’m not ready, I can’t. Please, stop! I took a slow, shaky breath. In. Out. I wondered what would happen if I just didn’t move. Would they push me? Let me back out? I looked up to the viewing platform on the side of the suspension bridge. My parents and sister were all waving, and my brother cheered and hooted, his typical demeanour slightly easing my nerves. I couldn’t let them down either, but I was still frozen in fear.
“Okay,” I whispered more to myself, my words leaping away with the lightly buffeting wind. I could die doing this. I wouldn’t be the first, and certainly not the last. It was always a possibility with these sorts of adrenalin trips. I had been given an introduction of sorts, and they had explained the frequency in which they changed their ropes and the strength that lay in the strands interwoven within these cords. Those explanations and confidence in the ropes was what kept me stationary on the platform, not yet backing away. I wouldn’t give up.
“One.” I breathed out sharply, any remaining confidence flying out with my exhale.
I looked down at creek again, so far below my bare toes and strapped feet. The instructor’s words reverberated in my mind. “Don’t hesitate. I’ll count down from three and when I say zero, that’s when you jump.” He had calmly reassured me, obviously used to the fearful participants that frequented this activity. I’m still stuck. I can’t move. I can’t jump. I can’t…
“Zero.” There’s no hesitation. I jump. It hit me that I was going to die. Before I could stop it a scream clawed its way out of my throat. Then with a pull on my legs, I was up again and laughing. I had jumped. I was flying in the most beautiful place in the world.
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