Paul Litherland

PHOTOGRAPHIE
03.20–04.13.1997

One, two, three… Go!

And my feet didn’t move.

What could the problem be? The weather was good, there was no wind, my gear was as ready as it would ever be, and no one had seen me get this far. I suppose I was afraid—afraid that this might actually be the last thing I ever did. And that it was a stupid thing to do. But then, what did it matter if it was a stupid thing to do? I had wanted this since I was seventeen. (I’m thirty-four now.) What is a life worth if you don’t do the things you want to do?

I started the countdown again—without setting a specific moment to launch, though—trying to put my fear and unease far behind me so I could stay completely clear-headed. I would go only when I was truly ready—if I could ever bring myself to consider myself ready.

Another countdown…

One, two, three… Go!

One, two, three… Go!

ONE, TWO, THREE… GO!

And my feet moved forward.

I felt like I was floating on a sea of ​​adrenaline.

Text: Paul Litherland