Every article I've read about intensive instrument training describes a period when the protagonist realizes that what he's attempting is actually not possible. Well, reading it and living it are not the same. My thoughts this morning are of delaying the exam one day... delaying it two days... coming back in a month to complete the training... giving up flying altogether and becoming a monk, etc. Of course, every article I've read also includes a last-minute rally and triumph. I don't know that I'm up to it. Besides, I suspect that the folks who wash out don't write articles. But on the other hand, John isn't ready to write me off just yet, and he's done over 100 of these. Perhaps I should trust his judgement more than my own.

I do about 0.8 hours on the simulator - two ILSapproaches, and I'm stumbling all over the place. I misread the altimeter by 1000 feet, and get lost on the way in. I stop the sim, and sit there for a while and sulk. John shows up as I'm working on another approach, and this one comes up a bit better. I describe to him my exhaustion and dismay with the sim, and he replies by reminding me how *he* misread the altimeter by 1000 ft yesterday at Nantucket. Its obvious that he's trying to cheer me up, but it also seems to help somewhat, so we decide to go out for a simulated check ride. We home on an NDB, track outbound, and do a simulated NDB approach. Then we head over to Manchester for two ILSs (the second one by my request for another try) and one VOR. We get back and debrief. I only failed 5 times - four altitude busts and one descent before established. Better than I expected, but not very encouraging. We mutually agree to postpone the check ride, which was scheduled for tomorrow. Tuesday turns out not to be available, so the exam will be Wednesday morning. John has some unrelated business to take care of this afternoon and I desperately need the rest, so we decide to continue into the evening after a break.

I take a real break by having lunch in the park, and then a 'busman's holiday' break on the sim, shooting ILSs and the NDB procedure turns contained therein. The results are improving. Soon we'll see if it gets any better in the plane.

The afternoon ride goes somewhat better. I still bust altitude one or twice, and blow an MDA, but in general, my control is better. We go back to that same AM radio station to practice NDB work (today the talk show is about finance), and I do fairly well, after first misinterpreting a heading. Then to Manchester for some ILSs. They vector me on for the first time at a spot where both the localizer and glide slope come active at the same time, and I chase them both all the way down to about 500 feet, where I lose the glide slope and declare a missed. We go around a second time, and John decides to do a demonstration approach. They stick us in at the same spot, where John abandons the glide slope and does a localizer approach. This confuses the heck out of me as I try to figure out what he's doing with the glide slope indicator. Then I get another try at it, and I do somewhat better. I come within inches of busting decision height before beginning the climb, which must have looked pretty scary out the window. On the climbout, I comment to John "Your're a brave man". We do a VOR at Manchester as well, and it goes pretty nicely. Then we turn back to Bedford, and John asks me if I'd like to do the VOR 23. Its started to rain and though its still VFR visibility is pretty crummy, especially through the rain on the windshield, so John lets me take off the hood. For the first time, I get to fly an approach to an airport, look out the window, and land the airplane, and its very satisfying. I haven't passed this mock test either, but I feel better about it than the first.

I eat dinner, and break the sad news to my wife that this is going to take a bit longer than anticipated. A few more ILSs on the sim after dinner, with results that are consistently inconsistent. Some sleep is certainly called for.