Standing near the top of Lookout Mountain with a harness wrapped around my body, I was instructed to look down the hill towards the town until I saw the red-roofed house. This roof was the direction in which I had to run, with all my might, down the steep mountainside, with full trust that the paraglide wing would lift us up into the air before we ran off the really steep part of the hill. No problem. . . read more.