West Coast, Baby

The first paragliding comp of the season starts in a few days, and I am planning to make it through without getting injured - after all, one needs goals right?

Last year, on the last day of the first comp of the season, I threw my reserve about a mile from goal and broke my pelvis when I landed. I didn't do another comp until seven month's later.

Five years ago, at my first comp, I experienced my first rush of tactical decision making. In the last thermal before goal, I waited for the only other pilot in the thermal to turn away from me before I left the thermal on full bar to do a final glide to goal - I had no idea where goal was, except it was a physical white line in a field somewhere ahead.

Dumb luck and a few minutes later, I was the first to cross the line. From that moment on, racing these nylon contraptions through the sky is one of the few things I do that makes me feel really alive.

Lately, I have been thinking a lot about why I compete, thinking really hard about what motivates me. I've found lots and lots of reason, but it wasn't until recently that I found a reason that is sustainable, a reason that is simple and timeless, and will keep me coming back for more no matter how well I do or no matter what happens - I race because I love playing the game.

See you in the Blue...