Supplied

Columnist Che' Baker wants to be like Pukekohe great-great-grandmother Mary Manssen when she is older, who at the age of 91, claimed the title of the 'Oldest Female Bungy Jumper' in 2015.

When I was younger I was fearless. F.E.A.R.L.E.S.S.

I used to jump from 20-metre cliffs into water, rollerblade down steep hills and pretty much take any opportunity that was presented to me for a bit of adventure.

This has without a doubt left me with some amazing experiences. I truly believe that to live, you cannot live in fear.

But we all know, as we grow older and we gain more responsibilities, we have more people in our lives to care for, we can't handle the hangovers or we just don't like dealing with the injuries we could bounce back from so much easier when we were younger - something changes.

Now the thought of doing some of the things I use to do in everyday life scares the sh*t out of me.

I have become cautiously responsible, an (almost) law-abiding citizen and somewhat of a "fun sponge" around people, making sure they have their seatbelt on even before they jump in the car.

I know I am not the only person who has experienced this feeling.

It must be what many first time parents go through.

What I am making a conscious effort to do though, is make sure I push myself to something crazy every now and then.

Like going bungy jumping.

For some reason it was something I never really wanted to do.

But I was becoming to complacent and needed the challenge.

Wow, what a wuss I was. Standing on the edge with a close friend, yes I couldn't even do it alone, she convinced me to jump.

All I could say was "we are bloody idiots. Let's not do this. LET'S NOT DO THIS".

Were we going to be the first people in New Zealand to die bungy jumping? Someone has to be.

The crew went through the motions of getting us to jump. (It's too easy for them with some of the tourists taking the plunge - they jump off that ledge like smiling lemmings).

Their motivation: "Oh you chicks are New Zealanders - this should be a piece of p*** for you guys".

We jumped. As soon as we dropped my fear left. (As a platform diver in my earlier years, seeing water rush before me was a common feeling.)

My friend, however, who was the strength and voice of reason at the top to get me to jump, started screaming on the third bounce.

When I asked why she started screaming only at that point, she informed me that she was in so much shock she could only get the air out to scream after those three bounces. 

I'm not sure I'm ever going to be able to completely bring back my former self, who lived carelessly on the edge, but I'm going to do what I can to ensure I still become that 82-year-old who goes skydiving over shark-infested waters.

For motivation I can use one of Mother darling's often talked-about childhood memories of me.

It involves her hysterically running from the house after noticing I – at the ripe old age of two – was standing on top of the chicken coop, put there by my older brothers of course, preparing to jump on to the trampoline below.

My father was able to casually stop her to say "wait, let's just see what she does".

I was either going to start screaming bloody murder myself or jump.

I'm pleased to say that without a flinch – it was the latter.

What a freak.

 - Stuff