It has not always been like this. On my first flights I was surely scared to death and could feel the adrenaline running through me, but with time I learned to take full control of my feelings, my body and to a lower extent, of my wing. (I saw Andrea flying with my wing in strong condition, the wing seemed to be an extended part of his body, it was beautiful to see. I am not closely this expert).
Inspired by different whitewater kayakers that I met in 2008, since the start of this year I have been longing for some excitement. Returning to the sky flying was maybe a physical gesture that symbolized I am back to myself, strong and alive.
When flying I am in a zen status. Nothing exists outside that moment, there is no past and no future (interrupted by few automatic nearly unconscious calculations on where to land, the height from the ground in relation of my vertical and horizontal speed…), and at the same time I am part of the whole world, I am suspended thousand of foot above the ground by an invisible mixture of gasses. It is magical. The air plays with my wing shifting my weight, lifting me up or pulling me down, and I react to it to keep the control.
Mother nature is playing with me and I am playing back.
Maybe this is why I love and crave for flying so much. And surely there is much more, but that, you will only know when you fly!