Unbelievable some of the adrenaline-pumping antics I see on social media.
These would be great if they were completely artificially generated on a computer somewhere, but this is real.
Jumping off mountain cliffs through clouds blanketing the lush green slopes below. Above and around iconic landmarks, buildings, and temples to name but a few.
Dropping into a fifty-foot barrel in a monster wave. Trying to sneak a lie past your wife.
Terrifying stuff (see how I sneaked that in?).
Leaping off skyscrapers in the middle of a metropolis. I have been atop some of the world’s tallest buildings, and not once did it ever remotely enter my mind to wonder what it would be like to put a parachute on my back, climb over the retaining barrier, and jump the fuck off? I am glad to see that there aren’t any gory “fail” videos of these perilous leaps, as I don’t think they would be very pretty.
Now, it did cross my mind to wonder what if the structure I was in were to crumble to the ground? It never once crossed my mind that a military action or act of war would bring the tower down, even though it was only 15 years earlier that the United States dropped atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
After 9/11 all bets are off. Apparently nothing is sacred or safe.
I do remember adrenaline blasting me off a couch in central Los Angeles in 1971 when a big earthquake hit San Fernando. I saw explosions of white, red, and grey and I honestly thought it was a legitimate attack on the United States by Russia. I remember my heart beating so fast that I had to catch my breath to slow down.
I remember adrenalin taking over when I played an entire football season with a dislocated shoulder.
I had finally worked my way onto the first-string and I did not want to lose my starting position, so, after each of our opponents’ offensive plays, our defense would huddle and I would get in the center. Someone, usually my friend Josh, would pull on my left arm until it “popped” back into the socket. It hurt like hell, but I played the entire season on a team that went 0-12 which meant we played a LOT of defense.
My refusal to address the broken shoulder cost me dearly as years later, I was subjected to several lengthy reconstructive surgeries and a frustratingly-slow recovery process. I still have issues trying to do military presses, or anything that stresses the repaired socket.
But I stayed in the game.
I didn’t puss out.
I showed nobody nothing except that I let macho male pride and ego dictate my actions and even before my left leg amputation, I had limited mobility of my left leg from other sports (read ego)-related activities. So with exactly ZERO championships achieved athletically after the seventh grade, I showed the scars of a six-time All-Pro.
Kinda makes you wonder if my time would have been better spent jumping off a mountain or building somewhere.
Check out my next-to-last reading from my book Emotions: Not your Mama’s ABC’s!