After the first year of the pandemic and 2020 came to an end, it felt as if 2021 would be the return of some normalcy. I was fortunate to travel, for both work and play, multiple times. I continued my pursuit of a Daily Vacation at home and on the road. However, I still felt off.

Travel felt less electric, not as exciting as it once had. My typical research into places to see, eat and drink became a search for what was allowed, what was still open and how long could I stay. Being at home was starting to feel stale, or mundane. It was like being stuck in a loop, with no tell of when the track would change.

When I traveled to California in December for a work trip, I remember feeling a familiar wave of excitement as I stepped off the plane into the airport. I hadn't encountered this feeling in a long time.

I took part in my normal travel activities; getting coffee at local coffee shops, checking out local markets, walking and wandering through neighborhoods and along the beach. I was enjoying myself and the December California sun as I drove along the winding road of La Jolla Shores Drive near the Scripps Institution of Oceanography when I spotted them - colorful wings soaring above the cliff.

What I had spotted were paragliders at Torrey Pines Gliderport, perched on the coastal cliffs above Blacks Beach. I'd read about the gliderport during my search for things to do near La Jolla, and had shrugged it off as something I wasn't necessarily interested in. But as soon as I spotted them, prominent against the blue sky and sun, my stomach started doing backflips.

I googled the gliderport later that night, furthering my research. For $200, you could paraglide with a pilot for 30-40 minutes along the La Jolla coastline. Still not quite convinced I needed to do it, I continued with my weekend and work duties.

It wasn't until my final afternoon in California, as I was driving with the windows down on my way to pick up lunch, that the urge really hit me. Was I really going to leave without doing the one thing that made me feel full of excitement at the possibility? Was I really going to spend $200 for 30 minutes of something I had never desired to do before?

There was only one way to find out.

I scooped up my to go order and started driving towards Torrey Pines. About halfway there, I picked up the phone and called to inquire; if they weren't flying or didn't have availability, that would be my sign it wasn't meant to be.

"Are you flying tandem today?"

"We sure are," said the man on the phone. "All you need to do is show up and sign the waiver and we'll have you in the air."

I was shocked. I think I was honestly expecting them to tell me there was no availability. I parked my car and grabbed my lunch, planning to walk out towards the cliffs and the nearby hiking trail. I stopped along the entrance to the trail down the cliffs to the beach and dug into my lunch. As I sat there, I watched multiple gliders take off and soar gracefully above the beach. It was magnificent, I was in awe. And suddenly I had the feeling that I needed to get in that queue RIGHT. NOW.

I ran my lunch back to the car and hurried towards the shop. Using the QR code, I pulled up the waiver and completed my information. The staff member working the desk printed my forms, explained the risks and took my payment. There were two people technically in front of me, but I completed everything before they had so she whisked me out to the pilots waiting for riders.

In less than a minute I was strapped into a harness and connected to the parachute and pilot. He instructed me that we were going to start walking toward the edge of the cliff while he pulled up the wings, doing our best to lean away from the pull of the parachute and hold it down. It was a wild feeling, the force of the wind on the chute wanting to take off while the two of us walked ever so awkwardly as heavy as we could make ourselves towards the edge.

When we got within 5 feet, he exclaimed that we should start moving faster and jump when he said. In the blink of an eye we were over the edge of the cliffs, feet no longer in contact with the ground. It was enthralling, and it happened so quickly but felt like slow motion.

I couldn't believe I had actually done it. We were hundreds of feet above the beach, soaring along the cliffs and the magnificent houses that occupied them. I could see for miles, and I couldn't stop smiling.

As our time was nearing the end, our glider dipped below the edge of the cliff where we had taken off. "How do we get back up?" I asked, my fiftieth question of the ride. "We may have to land on the beach," my pilot explained. I had read about this on the website, so it didn't come as a complete surprise, but once we landed he explained that the wind had completely died down, and that was probably his last flight of the day. Seconds later, another glider landed steps away from us; it was the woman who was in front of me in line for the waivers.

"Ugh, I am so disappointed!" she exclaimed. "We were only up for 5 minutes. My friend hasn't even taken off."

I had gotten so lucky, had I taken any more time to eat my lunch or fill out the forms, I would have missed my opportunity. Still on cloud nine, I couldn't fathom not having had the experience. I took in my surroundings before following the pilot to the trail leading back up to the cliffs.

There is a quote I love that reads: "if it's both terrifying and exciting, then you should definitely pursue it." The experience of paragliding that day made me feel just that. I was terrified to jump off that cliff, but the thought of not doing it terrified me even more. I knew that life was meant for living and taking (calculated) risks. I just needed a little push (to jump off a cliff) to remind me.