Category: Activities

This coming Sunday, I have to go down to Owings Mills for work. The following Saturday, I leave for British Columbia. The Saturday after that I participate in the Canadian Surfski Championships in Squamish, British Columbia. The Saturday after that, I participate in the Blackburn Challenge in Glochester, Mass. I would not be exaggerating to say that these are the two most important and highest prestige surfski races of my life.

I obviously need some way to stay in shape while I’m down in Owings Mills, which is why I’m going to drive down with my bike on my roof rack. There are practically no paddle options within a reasonable distance of Owings Mills, except “Liberty Reservoir”. There are only two problems with Liberty Reservoir:

• I’d have to buy a yearly pass from the City of Baltimore. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve given enough money to the City of Baltimore and I would be happy if they never saw another cent from me.
• They require you to sign an affidavit that your boat will never be used anywhere except their reservoirs. I’m not about to sacrifice a boat for them, not even my ancient V10 Sport club which I haven’t paddled in two years.

Also, because I’ve got an early flight on Saturday morning, I’ve put my colleagues at Owings Mills on notice that I’m leaving no later than noon on Friday. I repeated this over and over again when we were planning this visit, and I’m still anticipating a fight when I need to leave, because 2 out of 3 times I go down there nothing actually gets done until the Friday afternoon. That’s going to be their problem, not mine.

My problem is that even if I leave on the stroke of noon, I probably won’t be home until nearly 8, and I’ve got a 6am flight the next morning. That doesn’t give much time to get all my kayaking and other shit together for the flight. And also I want to get some last training paddles in this weekend including the Sunday before I leave for Owings Mills, which means it’s going to be tricky pre-packing my kayaking gear *and* making sure it’s somewhat clean.

As well as the logistic problems of getting back from one trip and immediately leaving on the other with completely different packing parameters, I also worry about the fitness aspect.

I’ll probably get a couple of long paddles in before I leave for Owings Mills. Then when I get there, really the only option for fitness will be bike riding, as I’ve said before. Bike riding isn’t great preparation for paddling, but it will at least keep my cardio fitness up. I’ll bring some rubber bands and I think the fitness center at the hotel has some hand weights, so maybe I can do something for my core. I have this mental picture of me taking my paddle into the hotel pool and trying to do stationary paddling in the pool, but I doubt they’d allow it.

Then there are going to be two travelling days, Friday and Saturday. Then family visiting (and the fun and logistics of trying to visit two close family members who live an hour apart and refuse to get together at once place or the other) for several days. I pick up my rented surfski and have a short race on the Tuesday before the champs. Then I’ve been promised that there is some sort of down-wind paddle going on on the Wednesday in North Vancouver, and I’m hoping to scout some or all of the course on Thursday, then a rest day and then the race. Then Sunday I’ve signed up for a clinic with Sean “Prawn” Rice. Then Monday travel home, and get ready for Blackburn the following Saturday. Phew.

This morning a group of us met at Irondequoit Marine Park (which we refer to as “Seabreeze” because it’s near the Seabreeze amusement park) for a paddle on the lake. The forecast was for very light winds and very small waves, so I didn’t think it would matter if we headed east or west. We had a good group, Mike and I often paddle together and we’re pretty evenly matched, and Pete G has gotten really fast this year and he’s probably going to be blowing us away in not very much longer. John H is a really fit guy, mostly a runner and a SUP paddler but he’s taken to paddling a surfski this year and he’s picking it up fast. And Jim managed to get back from yesterday’s Madrid race to come with us as well.

It started out as expected, with very little wave action. But what there was was almost directly on our beams. By the time we got to the Genesee River outlet those waves had built up a bit, and so had at least one other source of waves, on top of the boat wakes and the reflections from shore and the pier. The problem is that all these waves were about 1 foot high – big enough to affect you, but because they were all the same size there was no one wave that was dominating and making it so you could ignore the others. If you have one foot waves coming from three different directions, that’s far worse than if you’ve got one foot waves coming from two directions and three foot waves coming from one. You end up with two waves stacked when something hits you from the third direction and it really throws you off.

By the time we decided to turn, we were getting straight beam waves and an exactly 180 degree off reflection from the shore, as well as at least one other set, and I was bracing more than I was paddling. When we turned 90 degrees to directly off-shore, it actually became way easier, and I actually started enjoying it. Except I didn’t want to go 90 degrees off shore, I wanted to go back along the shore to where we’d put in. After we’d gotten far enough from shore that the reflection from shore was much reduced, I turned as much as I dared putting the incoming waves about 45 degrees off my right bow. That was still heading us directly towards a sailboat race, which we probably didn’t want to do. But after a short time, we got a another wave set, this from about 30 degrees to my right, so I tried to angle a few more degrees off the first set so I was almost directly into the new set. That was actually giving me an angle that would allow me to pass further out from the horrible mess that Mike calls “the potato patch” at the mouth of the Genesee. John H seemed to not make that turn, and so he continued towards the sailboat race. Luckily Jim went with him so he was taken care of if he got into trouble. Mike and Pete somehow managed to cut further in shore, and were just skirting the end of the Genesee outlet right in the horrible stuff. I was completely alone, and hating every second of it. I found myself thinking “why did I ever think I had any talent at this? I’m completely useless.”

After getting out of the worst of the potato patch, I managed to work my way inshore enough that I was beside and then slightly ahead of Pete, but Mike was literally a mile ahead of us. He didn’t seem to slow down at all. Being in with Pete made me more comfortable, both because I now knew I wasn’t going to have to go completely beam on for the rest of the paddle in order to get home, and also for the comfort of knowing that somebody would notice and possibly be able to help if I fell in and had trouble remounting. John and Jim were still miles off shore, but heading in quickly. I was getting a bit more confidence, and getting a bit more speed, but the number of boat wakes was getting more and more problematic. At one point I got hit by two sets of boat wakes that were more than 2 feet high and exactly 90 degrees apart, so instead of getting something I could surf, I just got pyramids of water.

After the paddle was over, the unenjoyable part of the day wasn’t over. When I’d set off, I’d decided to carry my Mocke PFD instead of wearing it, and I’d put my phone and car key in the big pocket on the front. I’d previously realized that the pocket has a bit of a flaw in that the velcro that closes it is much shorter than the width of the mouth of the pocket. I’d decided that I should go to Home Depot and pick up some a couple of snap rings or mini-carabiners or something so I could attach the keys and phone securely to the PFD, but I figured just for today it would be fine if I just made sure the bungees that hold the PFD to the boat were laid between the keys and phone and the mouth of the pocket so things couldn’t fall out. It seemed like a perfect plan. Once I got the boat out of the water, I discovered that somehow the key had managed to sneak out. I have no idea how, I have no idea where. I just know it was gone.

This lead to an hour or so of the whole group of us scouring the sand to see if just possibly it dropped out when I’d been carrying the boat to or from the water while back home Vicki searched to see if she could find the other copy of the key. We both thought we knew where the other copy was, but it wasn’t in any of those locations. So I called AAA and settled in for a long wait. I had my phone, and it was pretty fully charged, but unfortunately my spare reading glasses were in the car. But with a bit of squinting and pinching, I was able to keep myself amused for the first hour or two. But then it started to sprinkle. Since the only shelter at the boat launch was a really stinky public toilet, I called Vicki and she came so we could sit together in her car for a few hours while we waited for the locksmith to come, and them while he attempted to get a key made for the car.

We eventually got home just before 5pm. Not a great way to spend the day.

The first race of the season is in two days, and I have to admit I’m worried. On the surface, I probably shouldn’t be – I’ve put in a ton of training this season. According to Garmin Connect, I’ve done 335.3km in my Thunderbolt, 75.3km in the V12, and 16.7km in my favourite boat, the V10 Sport Ultra.

But one of the things that worries me is that I’ve done most of that training cruising along with a heart rate around 120 or so. Even in interval training, I’ve almost never exceeded 150 bpm. In races in the past, I’ve *averaged* over 150 bpm. How will I be able to keep my heart rate over 160bpm for 90+ minutes if I’ve never had it that high for even 8 minutes? Does that mean I should shoot for a lower heart rate this time? What heart rate should I shoot for?

Another thing that worries me is that my shoulder started to hurt a week or two ago, and it hasn’t been getting any better. And yes, it’s the same shoulder that’s had two surgeries, each of which cost me a year off paddling and then another year of trying to recover my form (basically no races between Sept 2010 and Sept 2013). I’ve been trying to take it a bit easier this week and stretch more and take something for the pain, and it’s a little better, but what if I completely blow it at this race? What if I blow it so bad I have to stop racing? What if I don’t blow it, but it never recovers completely? Will I have incentive to keep fit and paddle with my friends if I can’t race?

Another thing that worries me is that I never sleep well before a race, and due to scheduling problems we’re probably not even going to get to the place we’re sleeping that night until after my usual bed time. Knowing me, the slight shortening of my sleep time will be minuscule compared to how much sleep I’ll lose obsessing over my lack of sleep. One of the first books I read about competitive cross country skiing said that lack of sleep before a race is normal, and the trick is to make sure your muscles aren’t tired by holding very still when you can’t sleep, so you’ll show up at the start with a fried brain but rested muscles with is better than fried muscles and fried brain. I’m not sure if that is really what the author intended, or if making you hold still instead of tossing and turning is just a good strategy to make you fall asleep. But I’ve tried to practice it whenever I race.

I’m going to race my Thunderbolt this weekend. The Thunderbolt is old, it’s beat up to shit, and I just had to put a big strip of fiberglass under the seat because the seat was wearing through the outer skin. And it looks like this is the second time it’s been patched there. The foam “beams” that are supposed to keep the back from flexing too much are broken. Also one of the screws that holds in the seat wears a hole in my hip. I’m much rather use my V10 Sport for this race, but it has some shallow water so an overstern rudder is a bit of a plus, and it has a portage – last year I slipped on the muddy hillside and dropped my boat. If I’d been carrying my V10 Sport instead of the Thunderbolt, I probably would have put a hole in it. That Thunderbolt is a tank. I’d love to buy a new one (and Roger Gocking has a new one for sale that he’s barely paddled) but since I basically stop paddling it after this race every year, I can’t really justify it to myself. Actually I’m kind of hoping that I’ll get good enough at paddling the V12 that I can use it next year, because it’s got an overstern rudder and it’s Performance layup so it’s more robust than the V10 Sport’s Ultra layup.

I guess my strategy this race will be to go out at a more moderate pace than usual, monitor both my heart rate and the condition of my shoulder, and if I feel up to it, increase the pace after a while. And hope that nothing horrible happens.