Skydiver's quest is more than 100 adrenaline rushes

Tanner Kent WASECA, Minn. -- A small-engine airplane cruises 2,500 feet above the ground when the door flies open. Little can be done to prepare for this moment, when the sky fills the cabin with wind. Even veteran skydivers say the first adrenaline rush comes when the door opens.



The second rush is jumping. That’s what Cory Hanna is here to do - for the 32nd time.



Hanna, 42, positions himself under the wing to make a last check of wind direction. He dives for the ground.



Viewed from above, his figure becomes terrifyingly small, even as his chute opens and feathers him toward an endless expanse of corn, townscape and trees. His landing is soft. Someone helps remove his parachute and strap on a new one.



The airplane has landed and is moving into place for another run. Jump No. 32 is in the books. Only 68 jumps to go.



“The stamina part won’t be so bad,” Hanna said at the airfield the day prior, as he was wrapping up nine months of preparation for his record-breaking feat. “It’s more of a mental thing.”



One hundred jumps in one day was his goal. And when his feet finally touched ground for the 100th time around 7:45 p.m. to a roaring wave of applause, he became Minnesota's record-holder for skydives in a 24-hour period.



Hanna, a member of the Waseca-based Minnesota Skydivers Club, had another goal in mind.



Not long ago, his ex-wife and the mother of his 20-year-old daughter committed suicide. To relieve the guilt and depression, his daughter suggested they jump out of an airplane together.



Hanna thought it might be therapeutic, so he agreed. Hundreds of jumps later, he said skydiving has changed his life.



“It’s a very empowering sport,” Hanna said.



Each of Hanna's jumps was sponsored by a corporate donor or a family memorializing a loved one lost to suicide. The proceeds were donated to a suicide prevention group.



“As I started talking about this, people just came out of the woodwork telling me their stories,” Hanna said. “Everybody, it seems, has been touched by this issue.”



The skydiving club helped with the logistics.



Several members helped with the repetitive task of packing 30-pound parachutes. Others tracked jumps, trying to keep Hanna on pace. A few were on-hand to catch Hanna when he landed, lest the wind catch his chute. Another conducted safety checks before and after each dive.



Two pilots rotated two small airplanes. A spotter offered constant radio advisements.



“We’re doing all the real work,” said Teddy Hoehn, club president, only half-kidding.



Meanwhile, Hanna and his custom Sabre2 parachute glide again toward the drop zone. With just a few feet left in his half-mile descent, he pulls on his parachute cords and comes to a gentle rest on terra firma.



With an unclip and a skip, he’s into a new chute and striding toward the waiting airplane.



He’s ready for another jump.



Tanner Kent writes for The Free Press in Mankato, Minn.