I usually have my most profound thoughts whilst showering or walking the dog.
Today’s thought was to reflect on the number of good summers that I probably still have available to me …
For me this means the number of paragliding summers left in my life.
I don’t have religion; we are already in heaven because we have paragliding, skiing, snowboarding and mountain biking duh.
The oldest paragliding pilot I met (at a high cross country – not boring ridge soaring – level) was at an informal competition a few years back, called the Chabre Open; in fact a competition that is so much fun that getting tickets to it is harder than getting tickets to Glastonbury.
Ron Don (that’s as closest to a name as I have – he was also an old Geordie for any sleuths reading (tall order I know)) would not give me his age as he said that age was a label.
To look at him then – he was a strong 65 year old.
Except I had met him a few years earlier in Annecy, France when he had told me he was 77.
So, this guy was in his 80’s!
And he did much better than me!
I’m 55. I hope I’m still paragliding at 80; this is my aim!
So for me, that’s 25 good summers.
How many do you have left do you think?
