When me and my teammate first started our skydiving journey, we were just like every other overly–excited beginner: full of energy, dreams, and absolutely no idea what we were doing. So when we saw that there was a 2-way relative work competition happening in the tunnel, our enthusiasm made the decision for us. We trained for maybe half an hour, laughed about it, and signed up. We were so hyped that questions like “What if we embarrass ourselves?” or “What if we’re last?” didn’t even cross our minds. We honestly thought we were cool just for showing up.

And then… we were dead last.

But here’s the thing: we actually scored way higher than expected and learned so much, even from that half an hour of practice. We figured out what it means to train with purpose instead of just winging it, and during the competition itself, we learned that it’s not just about skill but about teamwork, focus, stress management, and what to do when you completely forget your draw mid-round (it happens, trust me).

Even though we ended up last, we felt super cool. Look at us, actually going to a competition. Two newbies with barely an hour and a half of tunnel time, actually flying, competing, getting points?! Unreal.

People kept asking if we weren’t scared of embarrassing ourselves. To us, that was such a strange question. How can you be embarrassed for showing up to learn? Especially as a beginner?

The birth of AirIK

That’s actually how the idea of AirIK started. Faris and I were joking around about how we’d definitely end up last again, while our coach Erik is always first in his category. So we made a joke Erik first, AirIK last. It was just a funny team name at the time, but on the drive home, we started talking seriously about forming a club. And when we did the name was obvious. To register the club with the national federation, we needed results, so we signed up for another competition. This time, we weren’t last. Not even close. With just a bit more structured training, we climbed to the middle of the ranking list.

Freestyle and the art of being terrible at something new

Then I decided to sign up for freestyle and ahh yezz, I was very dead last there. But I have never learned so much in such a short time. I competed against three other flyers: one of them being Erik, and the other two instructors. Meanwhile, I had maybe four hours of tunnel time total. For the first time I faced barrel rolls, backflips, weird transitions, kneeflying, and a half–made routine we threw together in two quick sessions. I tried compulsory moves for the first time ever week before the competition.

And yes, during my round I felt a little embarrassed for a second. But then I reminded myself that this is how learning works. After the rounds, the experienced flyers, the ones who actually win things, came to me, smiling and full of support. They were genuinely happy that I showed up and tried. Of course, there were also a few random comments from the sidelines, but I realized something: it’s never the people with real results who make fun of beginners. It’s always the ones who never had the courage to try themselves.

From last place to building a club

That experience changed everything. It made me fall in love with freestyle, and it sparked something bigger. The actual desire to help others feel brave enough to try too. Not long after that, Faris and I, together with Erik, organized a beginner–friendly competition. We even created a special discipline called Belly Numbers, where only flyers with less than two hours of tunnel time were eligible to compete for the first prize of a full hour of tunnel time. We wanted people to see that competition isn’t scary but rather fun, supportive, and one of the fastest ways to grow.

More about our first competition you can read here

And that’s how AirIK slowly started to grow too. Not just in members, but in purpose. There were events that we couldn’t afford and sometimes we weren't able to form a team for some competitions. But someday, we’ll stand behind the organization of national competitions too, maybe the first freestyle nationals we’re currently planning in Croatia.

What being “last” really means

Being last taught me more than winning ever could. It taught me humility, discipline, and how to love the process instead of the outcome. It taught me that the real support in this sport comes from people who understand effort, not ego. So next time you’re wondering whether to sign up for a competition, race, or event -> just do it. Because even showing up already puts you ahead of everyone who didn’t. No one who truly knows what they’re doing will ever mock you for trying. They’ll be proud that you’re pushing your skill forward. And one day, you’ll be proud too. Not because you won, but because you showed up.

*For the record at the 2024 Slovenian Open Nationals in freestyle, I was the first amateur ever to compete among instructors. Dead last, but first of my kind. I’ll take that any day.