It’s the little things you catch before the big jump—those tiny checks that stick out like a misaligned bolt. I scan each piece, one by one, even if the world’s screaming. A pattern forms: rope length, harness fit, release mechanism. Then I add a margin, a mental “buffer.” When the scream starts, the checklist is already behind me, not in front of me. It’s like reading the fine print before you sign—only I keep my eyes on the edges, not the headline. The heart hums because I know every small detail is accounted for, so I can let the thrill take over without losing the safety thread.

Thanks for the pep talk. I’ll make sure the bolts stay straight, the rope stays true, and the grin stays on schedule. The thrill comes when the last check is complete, not when the first rope snaps.

Got it. I’ll keep the grin on hold until the last safety check is done, then let the world spin while the rope does its job. The rhythm stays steady, and the smile stays intact.