One minute at a time. It feels fast at first, even though a minute is a long time. Sixty seconds. It takes a while, a bunch of practice, before that minute feels like a long time. Then there's a beginning, middle, and end, all inside that sixty second timespan. And then comes the part where it feels like a long time, those same sixty seconds.
It's not a one-time thing, it can't be by definition. You get good at what you practice. What you practice becomes second nature. When second nature turns into muscle memory, it frees up the brain from thinking about what you are practicing, since it's now muscle memory. So it can't be a one time thing.
It is after the learning part and the shock of what is going on with all your senses firing and emotional high. It is after the practice part morphs to the arrogant knows it all part, sure they've been practicing enough, at least to teach. It is after the boredom part, when the ten thousand hours rule to master a skill make sense. It is after all that when you can close your eyes and see it all take place.
The beginning holds a relaxing rush of wind at hundred plus miles an hour, as you position you turn your head into the wind. One second. The plane getting smaller when you look up, and more bodies fall out of it. You just fall, let the forward momentum of the plane slowly start to change into gravity assisted fall. Two seconds. All are chasing the chunk of people coming out and huddled together. Three seconds. It's time to feel the power of the wind at your back, tighten up the leg muscles, point the toes on straight legs and lean back on a wall of air. Four seconds. Floating up towards the mass of people now hurdling faster towards you, you think about slowing down. Body stays in the same position as muscles relax their tension. Toes curl in, head changes position, arms readjust. Five seconds. Waiting on level, waiting for them to catch up. Legs extend and bend at the knees, like a bat hanging upside down. Arms are relaxed, hanging in front of your body, clasping each other in wait. Six seconds. Close the distance, time to move forward, arms move back, pushing on a column of air directly behind them that appears when it's needed. Legs extend back to push on the same air and it is pushing back propelling you forward. Seven seconds. The beginning is done, fun is about to start.
Eight seconds. The base is right there, almost in reach. Stop. If you come in too fast you risk the stability of the formation. Take a breath. Nine seconds. Exhale. Now you can touch the formation, add your hand and add stability. Extend your other hand for the next person behind you. Ten seconds. What is going on behind you? They should let go of your hand, shaking and pulling like that, not adding to the stability of the formation. Thirteen seconds. Breath. Focus. You have your hand on the people in front of you, and the other is extended back. Fourteen seconds. You feel a hand grab yours. It is a gentle touch this time, you feel it squeeze and pull in a bit. Fifteen seconds. You look forward to the center, towards the guy with a long yellow piece of tape tied to his shoe, as he gets surrounded by more people from other directions. You smile. You can't help it. The rush of people is exciting. The base makes up the inner circle of six people, and it adds three pods of five people each, like petals on flower. Sixteen seconds. All twenty-one people are here, the first point is complete, the guy in the middle shakes his head.
Seventeen seconds. On queue, the base opens up, letting go of each others hands. Your hand behind you is pulling you backwards as you resist its pull. You are not ready to back up just yet. The hand in front of you holds on to the last remnant of the base. Each one backs into a spot revealing itself as the pods inch backwards to make room for the large circle of people in the sky. Eighteen Seconds. Everyone take a second. Breath. Let the wave rushing through the formation pass. Remain calm. Find the streamer flapping after a show. Nineteen seconds. Head shake. Second point completed, moving right along to the next.
You let go of both hands. Legs kick back on the air, arms push back, your head pulls forward and you will yourself to move towards the people who seem far away across the sky, from the other end of the formation. Twenty Seconds. Legs kick forward. In your head the special effects play like tires skidding to a stop combined with a boat making a wave. Your arms shot forward, your knees bend down and your hips move just enough for a stop. Twenty-one seconds. You grab hands with the people who skid to a stop an inch away. Look right. Look left. Twenty-two seconds. You are now along for the ride, as more people face off with each other on both sides. Twenty-three seconds. Twenty-four seconds. Everyone is connected. Third point completed. The head shake this time means just you let go, and the group is split in two. You start flying sideways. You think “slide” as your body twists and moves in ways you can’t really put to words. The other ten people behind you all do the same, all working together. You can’t make the slowest person go too fast, you can’t pull too much or push too much. It has to work as a team. And the team slides inches away from the other team, heading in the opposite directions.Twenty-seven seconds. You see the last person on the other sliding train of people. You slam on the breaks, psychically communicating to the other ten to do the same, and you hope the other team is doing the same. Twenty-eight seconds. You lock hands. The other side does the same, and the oblong shape in the sky forms a complete circle once again. Twenty-nine seconds. Fourth point complete.
You now have the worst part. This is when you have to wait. The odd shaped circle needs to breath, it needs to grow, it needs to take up room. You inhale deeply. Your legs are hanging behind you, working hard to keep you cemented in position. Your hands loosely hold the hands of the people on either side of you, as they stare at you and you look past them to everyone else in the formation. Thirty-five seconds. The circle is almost a circle now. It’s almost time. Thirty-seven seconds. All hands start shaking, like a wave passing over. Every other person in the formation facing outside of the circle balls up and spins down, pushing their legs under them. Thirty-eight seconds.
Holding hands lets the wrist move freely as people turn from upside down to right-side up, as they switch from facing out to facing in. Holding hands makes it easier to change the level of the people in the formation, as the switch from head down flying to head-up flying. Feet first requires strength and stability much harder than head first, and sticking the transition from one to the other while holding both hands with other people is hard. It is too hard for some people in this formation. Hands let go, small groups of people float away. Forty seconds.
The end is here. Time to run away from all these people. Time to fly like your life depends on it, because it does. Turn around. Find clear sky, without anyone in sight. Forty-one seconds. Start moving forward. Legs, arms, head. Forty-two seconds. Faster. No one can catch up to you. Forty-three seconds. You get a little flatter, back more parallel to the earth. Your whole body is straight and tight and fixed as an arrow piercing the wind. Forty-four seconds. You turn your body around to face the ground. You cup a little to make sure your pushing on the air as hard as you can, holding it and squeezing every bit of energy out of it to get you into safety. Forty-five seconds. Quick look right, side glance left. Check below. All clear. Forty-six seconds. Quick roll to check above. All clear. Roll back. Forty-seven seconds. Deep breath. Forty-nine seconds. Exhale. Wave both arms above your head. Fifty seconds. Your right hand slowly reaches back towards your right hip. It feels for the small ball flapping around your ass. The familiar touch when your hand closes around the little hacky sack. Fifty-one seconds. The anticipation of the next sixty seconds under parachute, on route to the ground. Fifty two seconds. You pull. This time it didn’t even last the whole sixty seconds.
