But it's the math, the endless calculations that kill me in this crazy hobby of mine!
Behold Exhibit A, above, my planning sheet for the west cross country. This gal who dropped math -- much to my mother's chagrin -- in Grade 10, and swore up and down she'd never again play any sort of numbers game unless absolutely necessary, now spends hours and hours and HOURS filling in columns and calculating magnetic variation, weight and balance charts, wind corrections and other such nonsense, just so she can go on a wee, little flight to two nearby airports and back.
My brain is just not set up to work that way. Those muscles are not fit, haven't been used in decades, are cobwebby and hidden away in dark corners.
But somehow I do it... and each time I do, it becomes marginally less mysterious to me, and increasingly, I begin to see links, and am able to notice logical errors without my instructor screaming, "Whaaaaat?!" like I'm some kind of idiot.
And if I keep it up, I'll eventually have a real pilot licence. Amazing!