In one corner, the peregrine falcon, nature’s greatest athlete, able to swoop down on unsuspecting prey at lightning speed. In the other, 82-year-old Joe Kittinger from Tampa, Fla.

Who’s faster?

You’ve probably guessed that it isn’t the peregrine falcon, even though, according to the Guinness Book of World Records, it is the world’s fastest animal. The peregrine is limited by terminal velocity. The quicker it plummets, the greater the air resistance. When it reaches a speed of approximately 200 mph, further acceleration is physically impossible.

On Aug. 16, 1960, propelled by nothing more than gravity, Joe Kittinger, then 32, reached a speed of 614 mph. He evaded the limitations of terminal velocity by leaping from a balloon in perilously thin air at a height of 102,800 feet. After freefalling for more than 85,000 feet, he opened his parachute and floated to a soft landing in the New Mexico desert. The entire descent took 13 minutes, 45 seconds, establishing several skydiving records (including for speed, duration and altitude) that still stand half a century later.

That is not to say that skydiving has failed to progress in the decades since Kittinger’s epic jump. In fact, it has been transformed from an almost exclusively military activity into a sport open to anyone with the nerve for it.

Modern skydiving has come a long way since Leonardo da Vinci sketched an idea for a wooden-framed parachute in 1485. By trial and, mainly, error, the first pioneers honed the design, flinging themselves off towers or cliffs in blind faith that their homemade, umbrella-like canopies would allow them to land without injury. The first parachute jump from an aircraft was made in 1797 by a Frenchman, André-Jacques Ganerin, who cast himself loose from a hot air balloon and survived unscathed.

Parachuting from fixed-wing aircraft was honed by two world wars. As military planes flew ever higher, the U.S. Air Force conducted research into high-altitude parachuting, which led to Kittinger’s jump from the edge of space on that historic day in 1960.

Most civilian jumps are made from aircraft at a height of around 13,000 feet. The skydiver typically freefalls in a prone position with arms and legs splayed, reaching a speed of 120 mph. At approximately 2,500 feet, the ripcord is pulled, and (hopefully) the parachute blossoms.

Simply jumping and landing is no longer challenge enough for competitive skydivers. Several disciplines have evolved to test parachuting skills to the limit, including competitions for artistry, accuracy of landing and formation skydiving.

For first-timers, there are two basic options for the initial jump. One is static-line parachuting, which involves leaping from a relatively low height with a parachute primed to deploy immediately. The second option is to make a tandem jump harnessed to an experienced skydiver.

Regardless of the chosen method, the first jump is a formidable milestone that requires the conquering of fears and phobias. As the aircraft climbs to the assigned altitude, novice jumpers invariably sit pale-faced and silent, each wrestling with his own demons.

When the time comes for them to shuffle cautiously to the exit, they face a hurdle equal to one that confronted Joe Kittinger all those years ago. When he stood at the open gate of the balloon gondola, he looked down at a plaque that had been attached to the floor by his colleagues. The words inscribed on it ring true for everyone who has ever poised himself to leap into the void, pinning his life on the parachute strapped to his back. The plaque read, “This is the highest step in the world.”