10/31/2022
On a recent trip to Cisco, I had time to check out the park and the newly renovated hiking trails. This was my first stop.
As a youngster, I remember this platform as being 25 feet, 30, or, more likely, 15 feet high. Desiring to be like the cool kids, I was driven to make that death defying dive off the platform. For me, just making it up the sketchy ladder was a major accomplishment.
I peered over the edge of the platform, working up nerve to make the dive. With just about zero diving experience, I was confident of hitting the water but any greater accomplishment would be the product of luck more than skill.
Finally, with peer pressure pushing from behind, I made the plunge into the dark waters below. I hit the water head first, gliding towards the murky bottom.
I ran out of momentum before I reached the muddy goo below. In order to prove my manliness, I had to grab a hand full of that sedimentary slop, surfacing through a glorious cloud like all the cool guys were doing.
I poured my energy into swimming to the bottom, finally getting there after considerable effort. Kicking off, I rocketed towards the surface, 20 feet, 25 feet, maybe even a dozen feet above me.
About 10 minutes (or, maybe, seconds) of frantic swimming, my oxygen was spent. I had no idea how much further I had to rise, or if I was even rising at all. My lungs were bursting, demanding that I take a breath immediately.
Suddenly, and totally out of my control, having blown out every bit of stale air I had in my body, I took a huge breath. At that same instant, my face broke the surface so what could have been my last gasp became a huge relief. If that breath had occurred just a second sooner, I seriously doubt I'd be here today.
I struggled to the side wall, completing my first and last platform dive and nobody even cared. These days, I don't worry too much about peer pressure. It's not worth drowning for. ;-)
