So many 'Why?'s

I am a jumper. A skydiver. At weekends, when the weather is sunny and my bank account is in the black, I like nothing better than to drive to a small airfield 70 miles away, strap a bag full of nylon onto my back, sit on the floor of an ancient, cramped aircraft as it climbs to 12000 feet then open the door and throw myself out. The majority of people consider this stupid, reckless or crazy. Something for suicidal adrenaline junkies only, or to be experienced once under the control of a tame suicidal adrenaline junkie and then left well alone before the numbers catch up with you. In a lot of ways they're right.

So why do I do it? In a word - boredom. Not the "I've got nothing to do today, hmm, skydiving" kind of boredom but a slow realisation that modern day life is so sanitised and safe that it's lacking a primal excitement, an integral element shared by all life. Human beings don't ever have to run from something trying to eat them any more, and whilst this is probably a good thing the downside is we miss the rush of getting away. When you skydive that changes. From 12,000 feet you find yourself heading towards the ground at 120mph, and you have less than 2 minutes before gravity turns you into a statistic. Saving yourself is easy, but you still have to do it. Jumping takes me closer to death, and I've never felt more alive.

So why write a blog? We have a log book to record jumps. It's a legal requirement, with more advanced parts of the sport requiring certain numbers of signed jumps. I fill out my log book as soon as I get down, when the memories are most vivid. However, my handwriting, which is terrible at the best of times, is not aided by the adrenaline coursing through my veins, a state which I can find maintained for hours after a jump. My mental faculties are similarly reduced, so there would be little chance of any eloquent prose (less than now, anyway). I also want to share these experiences, and most of my nearest and dearest are too busy or too terrified to come to the drop zone.

So why the title? Well, I consider myself a mediocre-to-good jumper, for my numbers. I have a pilot's licence, something that aids me under canopy as I understand how bodies move through the air, I'm good at spotting other objects in the sky and I can judge distances to the ground and fly neat landing patterns. My freefall isn't bad either. Of the seven training levels you have to complete to be allowed to jump solo, I failed once, a record I am led to believe is very strong. However, my exit, the moment at which I leave the plane, is shocking.

Looks good doesn't it? Well, the asymmetric legs are going to cost me in the next few seconds. And the old student jumpsuit is hideous

Even after 27 (and counting) exits I think I'm still completely overwhelmed by the experience. The first few seconds all my brain can yell is "This is amazing!" and "What the hell am I doing?!" Soon enough I sort myself out, but before that there's a bit of tumbling. This is referred to as being unstable. I'm good at it.