Look, I’m a normal guy trying to do difficult things. The idea is in reaction to the “that guy’s got hollow bones” comment that paragliders will say when they see a really good pilot, especially one doing better than them*. It’s the same kind of thing you’ll hear with climbers talking about Honnold’s amygdala, or …
I hit the ground (again) the other day flying, took a 50% collapse (half the wing just faded away) about 75 feet above ground. Managed it well enough to land without injury, but it definitely wasn’t a planned landing and certainly could have been much worse. The 2 other guys who were on site at …
This is in response to a friend asking me about my recent crash on a paraglider. He talked about his reason for walking away from paragliding as well as asked the questions you’ll see at the bottom.
I’ve been thinking about networks lately, inspired by recently reading Joshua Cooper Ramo’s The Seventh Sense. The driving takeaway is that developing a sense for understanding the networks in any given situation gives an advantage over an understanding based on older frameworks.
“Sometimes it’s just as valuable knowing what you don’t want to do.” ‑Dr. Amy Kruse, former DARPA program manager Look, excellence doesn’t transfer. It’s a common mistake to think it does, and one that many SOF vets make.
The people I like most share two things in common: First, they have open minds. Second, while they appear normal, they are in at least one aspect of their lives, utterly bat shit crazy.
In the vein of continually getting better, I just started sending out a “pre-interview” request for the Paleo Treats podcast. This one went out to Gavin McClurg, a paraglider. They’ll probably change as I go along, but I thought you’d enjoy it.
Man stands in an empty ball field at home plate. It’s night, half a moon, maybe less. A few clouds scud across the sky. A dull glow on the horizon, some distant city. Enough light to see, but barely. The wind moans through the batting cages. Lonely.
No, it wasn’t on purpose. I went to go pick up dry ice in my little car. I paid for it in the office while a nice fellow loaded 100 lbs of it into the back of the hatchback.
As usual, success doesn’t teach as many lessons as failure. After two years of failure, (2013 & 2014) I made it this year in 28:46:45 (that’s 28 hours, 46 minutes, and 45 seconds), or about an hour and 15 minutes ahead of the 30 hour cut off.