Post Nationals Thoughts

When I have a really bad day, I don't look at the scores - that would be like stabbing yourself with a pencil.

All you comp pilots know what I mean. Flying comps can be really stressful, but most of the pressure is pressure we put on ourselves.

I used to take comps way to seriously, back then I felt like I needed to prove something, as if my self-worth was on the line - stupid thoughts, I know, and it wasn't all that much fun. Then I began to realize that nobody gives a shit about my score, and that it doesn't matter anyway because scores come and go, they are temporary, just like everything else...

So lately I have been trying a new approach to calm my pre-launch anxiety, I call it the "I don't give a fuck" approach.

If I feel the pressure starting to build, I tell myself that "I am just going for a fly..." which is more truth that fiction, and I focus on launching and getting up, like it was just another weekend boat-around session.

That works pretty well, except it fails if you have a task like the last task of the US Nationals at Inspo. On that day, the absolute crux of the task was the first 20 minutes spent scratching along the steep rock wall to the south and way below launch, using every trick in the book just to maintain my position on the wall. It would have been so easy to give up, on safety grounds alone - No terrain clearance, flying a comp glider with solid rock below, tiny thermals bubbling through, and to top it off, droves of wings landing just below me in a deep green football field - proving how futile the whole effort really was.

But it wasn't futile - I watched Brad Gunn ridge surfing just above me, patiently waiting for a little bubble to come through and when it did, he didn't let once ounce of hot air get by him, - he did figure 8's and keeping his wing in the tiny chimney of lift. He managed to slowly gain altitude and leave the rest of us scrabbling below like desperate guppies trying to find the way out of the tiny fish tank. I held on, and kept scratching as if my life depended on it. Sure enough, a small bubble came through, and after gaining some height and seeing it was a real thermal, I moved out front slowly to find the stronger center and it was my ticket out of hell and away from the hot cliff below...

Once we got above 1000 meters, the thermals were good, predictable, and reliable, and the rest of the day was easy, cheesy, and a lot of fun. Well, easy until the final glide which I mis-judged and landed 1.5 km short of goal, giving up almost 200 points because I left the last thermal early to beat a couple gliders in - man, where is that pencil...