Felix Baumgartner: The Man Who Taught Us to Share the Possible

Yesterday, Felix Baumgartner died in a paragliding accident in Italy. He was 56. When I read that this morning, my mind went to October 14, 2012. Baumgartner wasn’t someone I would remember as I’m not into extreme sports, but that day is etched in my memory forever.

I remember it clearly as if it were yesterday (and I have a terrible memory), watching his jump out of a space capsule 24 miles (39 kilometers) above the Earth. The reason I remember it so well was because at the time, I was flying at 42,000 feet cross-country, and way above me was Baumgartner saying, “I’m going home now” before he jumped.

The Courage to Leap

On that day, I was on a plane from New York to visit an out-of-state client. At the time, I was a fundraising consultant and road warrior. Typically, I was home for two days each week, and every Sunday or Monday, I would be back on a plane.

I remember being a little tired of leaving home again. Sometimes, being on the road so much gets exhausting, and I didn’t have enough recovery time. But that day, I was also going to miss the Stratos jump of Felix Baumgartner—or so I thought.

Once on the plane and airborne, I flipped the channels of the onboard TV to see if, by chance, I could find the jump live. It wouldn’t be ideal to see the jump on the back of a small airplane seat monitor, but it was the best I could do. I just had to see that jump because I understood that I would be watching history in the making.

Maybe it was the audacity of it that captured my imagination. Here was a guy who stood at the edge of space and thought, "I think I'll jump from there." In a world where we're taught to be practical and to color within the lines, Baumgartner was creating his own coloring book. During that freefall, he didn’t just break the sound barrier—he broke the idea of what one person could do. Wow! It was exhilarating to watch.

Still, for all of the courage, there was great vulnerability, and for a moment, he existed in what is, what will be, and what was. Despite all the planning, technology, and expertise, there was that fragile moment, those quiet seconds—the pause at the door—when he stood at the edge of everything and had to choose to step forward. Everything, in that moment, hung in the balance, the world held its collective breath…and then the jump.

We all have those moments in our lives when it hangs in the balance, you breathe, take a pause, and hope for the best outcome. However, admittedly, most of ours don't involve actual stratospheric jumps 24 miles above the ground. But those of us who watched recognized something in that choice—the courage it takes to leap when you can't see the landing.

12 Versus 127,852 Feet—Big Difference

As I flew across the country for hours at 42,000 feet, I had the privilege of watching Baumgartner ascend way past the level of my plane. I wondered what he thought and what he felt in that time of solitude.

On the flight next to me sat a twenty-something-year-old man who noticed what I was watching. It only took a brief moment before he, too, switched his video to the live jump.

Words will forever fail this writer in describing the feeling of flying high above Earth at the exact moment that Baumgartner ascended way above us and then jumped out of the space capsule. It was indescribable. It was a “you had to be there” kind of feeling because, in that moment, two strangers connected in a shared experience that acknowledged our shared humanity.

As my seatmate and I flew suspended in air, and Baumgartner hurtled through space with nothing more than a spacesuit and parachute, something happened that I will never forget. That young man and I eventually held each other's arms as we watched Baumgartner free-fall. We were strangers, but at that moment, we were human, and somehow, we both needed to share the incredibleness of what we witnessed.

I've thought about that moment countless times over the years. Two people who probably wouldn't have spoken to each other during a cross-country flight, clutching each other's arms as we watched someone who seemed superhuman do something that seemed impossible. What was it about witnessing someone push the boundaries of human possibility that made us reach for each other?

The Humanity in People

Felix Baumgartner taught us that day that some achievements are too big to witness alone. The entire world stopped to watch, and social media exploded. We all needed to share it because it expanded what we thought was possible. And when our sense of possibility grows, we need other people to confirm that, yes, we really did just see that.

Baumgartner spent his life doing things that pushed boundaries in extreme sports and human possibility. But maybe his greatest achievement wasn't conquering his own fear by challenging himself. Perhaps, it was helping the rest of us conquer our fears and self-limitations—if only for a moment. Fear of believing in the impossible. Fear of hoping that maybe, just maybe, we can do more than we think.

Yesterday, we lost someone who reminded us that the sky isn't the limit—it's just the beginning. Thank you, Felix Baumgartner. Thanks for showing us what's possible and for reminding us that sometimes the best way to come home is to first be brave enough to leave it and jump.

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