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.