This past Sunday, I jumped out of an airplane at 18,000 feet. I didn’t enjoy it. As we packed into this old, single prop airplane - I thought to myself, “what the fuck am I doing??”. I had skydived once before (albeit at 13,000 feet), and I recall enjoying the experience. The adrenaline. The rush. The novelty. But this time felt different - all I could think about as this rickety plane took off is how I would rather be at home, having a nice cup of coffee, enjoying a good conversation with my partner.