You can do it, Marla!

I made it through 26 of the 27 waterfalls without a hitch. Cold water, steep walls, narrow openings: no problem. First in line, all it took was walking up and “Un. Dos. Tres.” Then pushing off into air, and a sudden rush of cold deep water.

Until almost at the end, after a steep muddy path, leaning into the side of the hill, holding a thin rope to ease our fears of sliding down into the little canyon carved by the river below. I got to the ledge, edging out so everyone would fit, facing the gap we’d jump into.  First again, I bent my legs. Un. Dos. Tres.

And I froze.

My legs were supposed to extend at three, launching me forward into the space that seemed barely wide enough to fit me, over the water that now looked miles below.

“Just jump.” I told myself, then bent my knees again, and again they refused to straighten. I looked down at my legs; it felt as if they had been disconnected from my brain. They began to shake.

“Jump now before it’s too late.” I thought. But it was. I was breathing fast, unable to get enough air, my life vest felt smothering. It began to drizzle.

“Jump, c’mon jump!” I hopped on the spot, hoping to loosen up, but every time I bent my knees in earnest they lost all strength, shaking, threatening to collapse beneath my weight if I tried to push off. It began to rain in earnest. I felt my heart pick up as I heard the impatience in the guide’s voice “Just jump, not high, just do it, go!” I bent my legs, tensed to leap, and a wave of nausea made me close my eyes.

The canyon would get dangerous if it stormed; falling rock could fall onto us from the walls, and the rain was cold. I needed to do it now, everyone was waiting, I couldn’t stand on the side of the cliff forever; why not just jump? I had done the rest, this one was no bigger. The walls were far enough apart, the water was deep enough; what was there to be scared of? I rattled off every reason to jump I could think of.

“JUMP! GO!” I bent my legs and they shook hard. I tried to focus on them to stop. Un. Dos. Tres. Another wave of nausea. Closed eyes. Open. Un. Dos. TRES. Nausea. Closed. “JUST JUMP.” Un. Dos. TRES. Open. Shaking.

It wasn’t getting better. Every time I tried to stop, slow my breathing and still my legs, it came back worse, till I was on the edge in the rain, everyone yelling, my pulse loud in my ears, shaking, simultaneously hyper-aware but out of control, UN DOS TRES.

Then I jumped.