Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Jump 43-Rick's Skydiving, Petersburg, OH

Suck-pop
Once again, I found myself 10,000 feet above earth, left arm hanging limply from my body, flapping in the wind as I plummeted towards the ground at 120 miles per hour. I never wanted skydiving with a dislocated shoulder to become a familiar feeling; I never wanted to spend 3 days a week in the gym just to be able to do the activities my friends do; I never wanted to be disappointed in my body for failing me when I need it the most.

I watched Chris and Larry in the air as I tried in vain to reduce my shoulder into the socket. Chris looked at me playfully, beckoning me to come and join their skydiving games. Our eyes met; his, shining and jovial; mine, serious and somber. As I waved Chris away, Larry buzzed by him, and Chris's attention diverted to Larry as they played high speed cat and mouse games. I locked onto my altimeter,waiting for it to show 5000 feet so I could open my 'chute and end the bad dream...

I was 8, back in Milwaukee. I was in the backyard of a nameless friend of my mom. Late summer; lush green grass; barbecue fired up; the smell of charcoal; picnic table covered with a red gingham tablecloth held down with plates of watermelon, Lay's, pasta salad; children running around. 
     "Wanna see me dislocate my shoulder?" my mom's friend asked me through his wide smile. I nodded at him shyly as he rolled up his left sleeve. My eyes grew wide as his shoulder joint seemed to sink deep into the socket.


...8000 feet...


I was 12, now in West Virginia. I was the new kid. New school, new friends, new classrooms plastered with new inspirational posters. "Knowledge is Power!" "An Education can take you Anywhere!" I sat next to Ross in the back of English class. I leaned over, head still turned to the chalk board, feigning attention to the teacher.
     "Wanna see me dislocate my shoulder?" I whispered beneath my breath, just audible to Ross. He nodded at me, attention diverted from class. His eyes grew wide as my shoulder joint sunk deep into the socket.


...5500 feet. I reached for my pilot 'chute. 5000 feet. I pitched it into the wind. I felt no pain as the parachute stood me up and my arms snapped to my sides. Maybe it was because I expected the pain to be worse. Maybe it was because my shoulder had been out of the socket so many times before. Maybe it was because my mind was somewhere else...

I was17. Crack! The softball rebounded hard and fast off of the bat in my direction. I sprang up, but it was just out of reach. The tipped ball landed just inside of the outfield. I swooped low in full sprint as I scooped the ball. I turned to first base as I skidded to a stop. The earth gave way beneath my feet. The sound of tearing blades of grass and the loss of friction led to my first Suck-pop. I grunted as I heaved the ball to first base and grabbed my left shoulder as I rolled in the grass, unable to stand.


...3500 feet. I steered my canopy towards the landing zone, making only right turns. I grabbed my left toggle in an attempt to reduce my shoulder. I relaxed my mind, then relaxed my left shoulder, and pulled hard. All an effort in vain. I stared at Chris on the ground and spiraled down slowly towards the target...

I was 18. It was early January in the first winter after that fateful softball game. My shoulder had already Suck-popped a month earlier at Snowshoe Mountain. It had become weak ever since I stopped physical therapy. Today was the tryouts for the WVU Snowboard team. 
     "We know you're good on the rails; let's see you hit some jumps," the president of the team said. I rolled my eyes and flew towards the lone jump in the park. I landed hard with an annoyingly familiar suck-pop. Without saying a word, I unstrapped my board and walked to the car. Dejected and embarrassed, I sped off.

...600 feet. I held both steering toggles in my right hand. Chris stared up from the ground, finally grasping what was wrong. Unable to turn, I leaned hard in my harness. The 'chute hesitated and turned slowly over my harness. 300 feet. Chris was in a half run towards the landing zone...

"Just like jump 39," I thought.

...100 feet. I prepared for the hard landing...