Wie trainieren wir?

Most of us strive for control and safety. We don't want stress with the wing. And for many, launching and/or landing is stress.

Why might that be? Here come a few wild hypotheses. The first: we haven't quite grasped yet that the wing together with its pilot is a pendulum. In the air, every one of us has experienced this, consciously or not. Up there, depending on gear and situation, the wing saves us. Or we learn to control the pendulum in the air (safety training, radio and experience).

On the ground, at launch and landing, on the other hand, we often think we're the boss. Standing and moving on the ground are, after all, a firm part of our everyday lives. In doing so we suppress the fact that here, too, the wing forms a pendulum with us, whether it's above, beside, in front of or behind us. And that we should use our bodies here, either intuitively or learned and then consciously. Only then does the stress disappear and we really have the situation under control. Because just because I didn't get hurt or the situation turned out fine once more doesn't automatically mean I'm in control.

Another hypothesis: we don't yet quite have a feel for when the wing builds up pressure exactly where, and how I play into that. That too goes back to the pendulum. Above all, it has to do with our body's motor skills. And of course, once again, with the gear.

Who has ever thought about why the karabiners on the harness sit where they sit? Do the straps and struts have an influence? And if so, when and how? Could it be that not only the size of harness and wing influences my movements, but also the other way round?

And one more: do you really know how you use your body when handling and flying? Or do you “only” have a picture in your head of how you think you look (pretty and stylish, of course)?

That takes me straight back to my beginnings. Harness on (I just thought it looked nice, and it fitted too). Wing above me (because that's the only place a paraglider belongs). Eyes up at the canopy (because: how else am I supposed to know what's happening up there?).

From the outside, Kai saw: straight knees, arched spine, unloaded karabiners, no buffer for a gust. And a braked wing, because looking up and back pulled the hands and brake lines slightly downwards. To him it was clear that I felt uncomfortable.

For me it meant: shit, I'm going backwards and I can't hold against it. The result: I tensed up, ran backwards with it and pulled even more. And whoosh, off I went backwards, unintentionally. Or someone next to me had to shout that I'd been dancing further and further in one direction without meaning to. All total crap.

That's why where you look makes double sense. Your body is in a much better starting position, and you can orient yourself by your surroundings. What the canopy is doing, you can learn to feel. That's what the exercises are for.

And one more thing: the wing only belongs above you for flying. Otherwise we always park it at the edge of the wind window. That's much more relaxed. And, by the way: you can even see the canopy there.

And this is where we get to the point. On the coast you can not only fly beautifully, you also have the conditions to practise a lot and do many repetitions. Everyone needs a great many repetitions before old movement patterns are overwritten. And there's room for that here. Plenty of it. As much and as long as you need. The training can be steered and supported very individually.

Kai shows you what happens in different situations and how you can or should act instead. Then he gives you suitable exercises. Whether you do them is up to you. Many shy away from really practising the exit strategy. (I get it. But it's so liberating once you've consciously dared to go through with it a few times.) So: if you do the individual exercises, it gets easier.

If you've made it this far, we come to the next hurdle. Dear Rüdiger (a psychologist) once told Kai that there are different kinds of people: the greys, like almost all of us, and the black-and-whites, like Kai. That doesn't say who's better or worse, but how someone usually ticks in everyday life. For Kai with the wing it means: if I practise something in a certain way and it becomes second nature, then that's the only way I'll do it. If the wing wants to pull me even 30 cm off my line, I steer against it consistently until I'm exactly where I want to be again.

We greys are different. And please don't get this wrong: we don't actively think the following (that would be easy to switch off). But it goes roughly like this: I'd like to walk or fly over there. Oh, but the wing is pulling me over there. Hmm. I'll hold against it a bit. Or I'll brake a bit to hold my position. Sh… now I'm going backwards. Or: whoa, whoa, whoa, now it's going sideways fast. I'd better run with it so I don't fall. And because I'm almost falling, I hold on tight.

What happens next always looks the same from the outside. Everyone who's been through it knows: Kai throws his hands up in despair, and you're frustrated. Thanks to Rüdiger we all understand this process better now and can tell you: this phase passes too. Do the exercises the way Kai shows and explains them to you. Have trust and give yourself some time.

Some of the helper gulls are always there to support you. And promise: once you're over this cliff, you'll ask yourself why you didn't do it this way from the start. The path is always the same, just more or less pronounced. The most important thing is: it works and is constantly being developed further.