Growing up, I used to say, “One thing I never want to die without doing is skydiving.” It felt like a far-off dream; the one big adventure I believed would be enough, because growing up in sickness taught me not to expect more. 

As my health improved after finally getting a correct diagnosis of cystic fibrosis at the age of 19, something unexpected happened. I began living moments I had never once imagined would be possible. I reclaimed control over my life in ways my body had long denied me. Slowly, I realized that I had both the ability and the opportunity to dream big. Ironically, that childhood skydiving dream shifted into the background, replaced by new goals and a future that finally felt reachable. 

Then, one morning in June 2024, everything changed…on a whim. 

A close friend of mine spam-texted me saying she felt like going skydiving that very day. I asked, half-joking, “Can I join?” 

That same day, we got ready, drove through traffic, and arrived at GoJump Oceanside. A few hours later, we jumped from 13,000 feet. 

It was exciting. It was freeing. But it wasn’t quite what I expected. It felt less like a defining moment and more like a quiet checkmark on a list I had carried for years. 

Then came 2025, when even enough was not enough. Seven hospital visits, including four hospitalizations. And then, the loss of my friend Jacob Venditti—31 years old, living with cystic fibrosis, the founder of the Live Fearlessly Foundation, and one of my biggest inspirations. After a month on ECMO and life support, Jacob passed away on August 16, 2025. 

In September, I traveled to Wilmington, North Carolina, for his memorial and celebration of life. His family had created a beautiful exhibition of photos and videos, with memories playing on screens and pages from his sketches and journal on display. One line stopped me cold. 

Among all his goals to change the lives of people with cystic fibrosis, he had written a simple dream: tandem skydiving. 

A strange feeling…like some kind of guilt, washed over me. My mind rewound to November 2024, when Jacob visited me in San Diego. As I talked about my skydiving adventure and mentioned that I had done it not far from where he was staying, his eyes lit up. He wanted to do it too, that very day! But as much as we connected on our crazy adrenaline, I couldn’t let him take that risk—especially with 30% lung capacity and a flight back to North Carolina the next morning. 

So, in October 2025, during the week of Jacob’s birthday, I jumped again. 

This time, not for adrenaline. Not for excitement. But for him.

For my close friend Gautam, who also lives with cystic fibrosis. For every person with CF who has ever felt their body hold them back, who dreamed of flying while their lungs drowned them instead. 

I jumped with purpose, grief, and fearlessness—the kind Jacob lived by, and the kind every person with cystic fibrosis inspires me to carry forward. 

And somehow, that made it mean even more. 

But skydiving no longer feels like the accomplishment itself. It was never meant to be the finish line. What matters more is what comes next. My next adventure is the NYC 2026 Half Marathon, where I’ll carry Jacob’s fearlessness forward with every mile. I’ll run for him, for my friends living with cystic fibrosis, for myself, and for every person with CF who keeps choosing courage even when their body makes it hard. The goal is no longer just to fly—it’s to keep moving forward. 

By: Devanshi Dubey