I wonder how it works, maybe it's just me. But when I don't dedicate a whole day towards flying, there is something missing. As if there would need to be a certain ceremony of a flying lesson. As if one or a little bit more than one hour wouldn't be enough.
I arrived at the airport from hours of sailing. Greeted Princess who was still warm from previous flying, and sat inside. I still felt like on the boat and couldn't really feel the rhythm. But there I was, in my Princess, again, in the one that I missed so much. There I was and it made me so happy again. "I missed you, little girl" I whispered so that my instructor couldn't hear. He would think I'm crazy talking to the airplane. I put on my headset and... flew. Nothing new, nothing unusual, the same old beloved routine. Well, ok, not that old, after all I did it just like a ten times. It's nothing. But even though, it feels as if I did it all my life. As if I was meant to do that all my life.
The first landing was really nice. I sat Princess nice and slow.
The second approach.... turned out to be learning how to get up from a failed approach... But I was very happy to learn it, actually.
Every next landing was done but crummy, heavily, and so on. Nothing pretty, Princess hurting, me not very happy as I still couldn't get close enough, low enough, slow enough or most of all - I never landed on the number that was supposed to be my destination.
And?
That wasn't my day, that's all. I felt distracted, worried, somehow I wasn't really there, not all of me at least. And I think I should plan it better, prepare better, celebrate it more. Dedicate a day for flying.
After all, it's always worth it.
