Flying Again: What Getting Back on My Paraglider Taught Me
Four years ago, I crashed into a tree while paragliding. It wasn’t a small mishap, it was one of those moments that sears itself into your body and memory. I can still remember the sound of the branches breaking, the sudden stop, the shock, and the slow realization that what I loved had also just hurt me. Oh yeah, and my mom was there for the first time seeing me fly and I can still hear her screams!
In the months after the crash, I told myself I wanted to fly again but part of me was fine not flying again. I leaned into other hobbies and even convinced myself that maybe it was just a phase in my life. But deep down, every time I saw a paraglider floating across the sky, I felt something stir inside me part awe, part ache.
The truth is: fear has a sneaky way of disguising itself as logic. It says, “You’re being smart by staying away.” It sounds reasonable, even protective. “Remember Ryan, you now have kids!”
But often, fear’s true intention isn’t to keep us safe, it’s to keep us small.
The Day I Decided to Fly Again
Recently, I decided it was time because my courageous wife was with our kiddos at the playground and she went up to a guy who was practicing his glider in our neighborhood park and asked for his phone number so I could reach out. I texted him that night and we met up to practice grounding techniques (It is where you pull your glider up while still on the ground and practice controlling it).
“Want to go fly this week?” He says, and realized it was my invitation to say yes to the thing I love and have feared for more than four years. So I realized… time to get back up, strap in, and face the very thing that once broke me. The moment we hiked up the mountain and I stepped onto the launch site, my heart was pounding. My hands were sweaty, and I could feel that old memory trying to take over… the crash, the fear, the what-ifs.
But then I looked out at the horizon with the sky blue and the tress all the fall colors you could imagine. The same sky I used to chase was waiting there, open and patient. And I remembered why I ever did this in the first place: freedom. The kind of freedom that comes only when you let go of what’s holding you back and trust yourself again and you can fly like a bird.
As the wind lifted my glider, my body wanted to resist, but my soul said yes. And within seconds I was flying again.
The Lesson in the Air
Up there, fear transformed. It didn’t vanish, but it softened. It turned from something that blocked me into something that guided me. I realized fear isn’t the enemy, it’s the doorway. The presence of fear often means we’re standing right on the edge of something meaningful.
Doing what we love, especially after pain, loss, or failure, requires us to redefine what courage means. Courage isn’t the absence of fear; it’s the decision to move with it. It’s looking at what once hurt us and saying, You don’t get to define me anymore.
Why We Need to Do the Things That Scare Us
Sometimes when we avoid what scares us, we trade growth for comfort. We miss the version of ourselves that exists on the other side of fear, the one that’s stronger, wiser, more whole.
If something once brought you joy, if something used to make you come alive, don’t let fear (or in my case one bad experience) steal it from you. Healing isn’t about avoiding the things that broke us; it’s about finding our way back to them, with more awareness and appreciation than before.
Flying again reminded me that love and fear often coexist. We can’t feel deep joy without risking deep vulnerability. And that’s the beautiful, terrifying truth of being human.
So whatever your “paragliding” is… whatever thing you’ve avoided because it once went wrong or felt too risky… I hope you give yourself the chance to rise again. Not because it’s easy. Not because it’s safe. But because we are worth the freedom that waits beyond fear.
Because sometimes, the most powerful way to heal is to fly again.