Why we dare: The mystery behind extreme sports

“Wuffo?” 

That’s what we skydivers call people who can’t understand why we risk everything for the thrill of our sport: “Wuffo,” as in “what for”?

Why would we jump out of airplanes and trust our lives to the whims of small mechanisms that can, and sometimes do, fail?

Why would we sail close to rocky cliffs in thin wingsuits, leaving little room for error between the wind and our ability to make snap judgments about speed and distance?

And why would we do it again and again, even after losing friends to the sport?

This week, one of the deadliest avalanches in recent American history took the lives of at least eight backcountry skiers near Lake Tahoe. 

A group of 15 set out on an annual adventure together over Presidents Day Weekend. Six survived, eight died, and one is still missing and presumed dead. 

It is a staggering toll. 

By all accounts, this was an experienced and well-prepared group. They knew the area, had professional guides, and carried emergency beacons. They were on their way back to the trailhead at the end of a three-day trip when they spotted the avalanche. 

Despite these details, some will question why people would risk their lives for a few days in the backcountry. It may seem inconceivable, and maybe even irresponsible, to take high-level risks for recreation — in fact, just for fun. 

Left in the wake are devastated families, children who have lost parents, and communities that will take a long time to heal. 

There are attendant risks faced by rescuers who, in this case, braved difficult conditions to follow the survivors’ emergency beacons and iPhone satellite S.O.S. signals. 

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Can the tragic outcomes for those left behind ever be worth whatever it is these skiers were chasing? 

Extreme athletes and those who love them ask this fundamental question differently. Instead of asking whether death is an acceptable outcome, one has to start from the understanding that death is the inevitable outcome, for all of us. 

Then, the question becomes: “What am I willing to risk for a life worth living?” And: “Will I dare to experience my most precious dreams with the time I have?”

The answers to these questions are different for everyone. Some get just the right amount of rush skiing groomers and sticking to the trails. 

For some, golf provides the level of outdoor engagement that defines “recreational fun.” 

For others, the feeling of truly being alive and in community requires being closer to the edge. 

There will always be explorers and pioneers among us, choosing to interact with nature in ways that look extreme to the uninitiated. Our differences don’t make anyone’s answers universal, or wrong. The bottom line is that we are free to choose. 

With the winter Olympic Games underway in Italy, many of us have been cheering on our country’s professional athletes as we marvel at their physical and emotional risk-taking and feats of glory. 

Imagine, if you can, the heroism inherent in a different kind of team: a group of women who made time in their busy lives, year after year, to bond over outdoor adventures. 

We can learn from their choices. 

We Americans prize our freedoms. While we will not all experience what it’s like to free climb, dive, parachute, or backcountry ski, we all have the opportunity to choose how intentionally we want to spend our time. 

We are free to seek out experiences that leave us feeling alive, and in awe. 

Ask yourself, “What am I willing to risk to create the life I dream of?” 

Then you’ll know “Wuffo.”

Taya Weiss holds national and world records in wingsuit skydiving. Now retired from full-time jumping, she writes and speaks about what she learned from her years spent immersed in risk.