Aside from the “whee” factor, most of these sports are exciting because of the fear. Overcoming great fear is an incredible rush. Just think about all the people riding rollercoasters and going to see horror! And physically speaking, fear and excitement are actually pretty similar, the main difference being simply that fear involves resistance and excitement involves anticipation.
I think at least part of it is a cost-benefit analysis. For example, right now I’m just learning progressively larger jumps on a snowboard. A couple months ago I did something funny at the top of a jump and ended up sideways in the air. My ribs hurt for about 6 weeks. Now that’s always at the back of my mind when I approach a jump, but the exhiliration of flying through the air far outweighs the possibility of hurting myself again. I’m willing to risk my safety for the benefit of learning this skill.
Are there people who are fearless? Maybe not, but there are certainly people who have less fear than other people. The question is whether they just don’t have as clear of an idea of the consequences of their actions. Do those Jackass kids actually have any concept of the repercussions of having a finger blown off? Do they have an understanding of what that means at all? Maybe they don’t, and that’s why they’ll hold firecrackers (or whatever the christ it is they do).
They’re not fearless, they just have different reactions to stress than other people. Whether that’s an innate or acquired trait remains an open question. Risk-averse individuals obviously aren’t likely to participate in activities like these, so there is unquestionably a high level of self-selection involved.
People who have undergone high-stress activities in a relatively controlled environment seem to have some advantages in their reactions to extreme stress over those who have not undergone such training or indoctrination. I found a study on soldiers in the special forces, who had already undergone very stressful training, and regular soldiers’ reactions to survival training stress. I don’t believe they explicitly say so in the article, but the training they reference is probably SERE.
Basically, guys who had done SF training already were able to think more clearly during high stress situations and experienced faster recovery after stress. They were also less likely to disassociate during or after, which inoculated them somewhat against PTSD, and also boosted their performance under duress. They released higher levels of neuropeptide Y during stress, and the levels returned to normal faster than the regular soldiers. How much of this difference was due to selection processes vs. training is still being investigated.
I’ve done some fairly dangerous sports, like rock climbing and scuba diving, and I’ve done some things that are stressful even if they’re objectively not particularly dangerous, like gymnastics and springboard diving. One of the guys on the football team who saw me attempt a difficult dive off the 3 m board — and fail — once said, “Goddamn, you’ve got brass balls the size of my head! I’d have trouble even getting myself to walk off the end of the board.” This was coming from a guy at least a head taller and about 50% heavier than me who willingly hurled himself full-force at another guy at least as big as him over and over again during practice. While I haven’t done skydiving or really out-there stuff, I’d be willing to bet that it’s just an amplified version of what I’ve done.
If you’re willing to take the risk at all, you’re already committed. After that, all you have to deal with is execution. Risks are minimized if you do it right. Screw up, and you get hurt, even if you take precautions. It might be a minor injury that resolves after a few seconds, or it might be life-threatening. You don’t really think about that while you’re doing it, you just concentrate on doing it as well as you possibly can, so you don’t get hurt.
When you’re in the right state of mind, you know it’s going to be good before you finish. It’s very Zen. Great performance feels effortless in a way, even when you’re making an extreme physical effort. Before, you might be shaky and fearful, afterward you might be ecstatic or abnormally calm, but during, there’s no attention to spare for anxiety.
I’m not an extreme sports person as I barely have the dexterity it takes to work a can opener.
I do know this about myself tho’. The more I fear something the greater the compulsive urge I have to face it. Because I know if I don’t; my self esteem will take a nose dive.
When I was a teenager this caused me to get in a lot of fights. I remember in my head I would try to rationalize it as “Well the bigger thing to do is walk away because violence isn’t the answer, blah, blah blah.” but a louder voice in my head would say “BULLSHIT! you just don’t want to fight the guy because your afraid of getting your ass kicked! What a pussy you are!”
So I would wind up fighting the guy. Sadly, I was the dolt that usually got his ass kicked because like I said, I barely have the dexterity it takes to work a can opener.
(Sigh…) I wasn’t exactly the brightest of kids.
Thing is, fear can be a pleasant or an unpleasant feeling. People—at least some people—like being scared, as long as they know deep down they’re safe. That’s why some people enjoy scary movies, and Halloween-type spookhouses, and amusement park thrill rides. I don’t like many carnival rides, because to me, the sensation of falling or of being thrown around is just too unpleasant to be compatible with fun, but I can see why other people do enjoy them.
Pain is a very subjective thing, even to the same person. For example, if I get my instep stepped on during rugby practice in the early part of the season, if hurts pretty bad, and I have to sit out a play or two. However, after a few games of getting stepped on all over the place with the adrenaline flowing, I think my body just stops sending pain signals to my brain, or my brain just ignores them. A couple days ago in practice we were going full speed, and I went eye to head with a guy. I knew it should hurt, but it just… didn’t. I mean, I could tell something wasn’t quite right, but it wasn’t really painful.
I can imagine the guys on Jackass knowing that something hurts, and reacting to it, but not actually feeling pain. Adrenaline and endorphines are a big part of it, sure, but it gets to the point where you don’t really care that something hurts. Until the next day, of course, but that’s more stiffness than impact pain, I’d say.
And then there’s The Human Probe (a fellow with whom I used to paddle and ski) who actually likes pain.