Yesterday I did my annual time trial over one full loop of the harbor. I discuss this ritual in more detail in this post I wrote last year.
I went into it yesterday not expecting any miracles. I wasn't feeling particularly rested: I was still quite sore from the new strength routine, and I'd slept poorly for a couple of nights because of a professional problem I'm having to deal with.
Furthermore, I'm almost never in peak racing form at this time of year. One reason I do this at this point in the season is so I won't be going into my first race completely cold in two weeks. And I never use my nicest racing gear for this time trial; I use my old beat-up training paddle and an older surf ski that I still use for training but don't take to races anymore. I guess that's just a way of reminding myself that this is, in fact, a training exercise, and not something I should take any more seriously than that.
The weather was not terrible but not the best either. It was sunny and beautiful, actually, but there was a swirling wind from the northeast. On the plus side, the Mississippi was up to 36.9 feet on the Memphis gauge, meaning that I could paddle more direct lines. (The harbor is quite a bit more sinuous at low water.)
I warmed up paddling from the marina to the harbor's north end, and did three 8-stroke sprints before settling into the usual starting gate between two submerged trees. I sprinted hard for about 45 seconds before settling into a pace I hoped I could maintain. As I noted last year, 7.2 miles per hour is about what my average speed would have to be to achieve my sub-50-minute wish-list item. Because of the squirrelly winds there were moments when I exceeded this speed and moments when I fell well short even though I was maintaining a pretty consistent intensity.
When I reached the turnaround point at a predetermined location next to the Beale Street Landing dock, I was somewhat surprised to see that my time was about 25:15--not far off the pace for a sub-50. But I knew that a negative split in the second half would be a tall order because of the mostly-north winds as well as my mounting fatigue. Sure enough, my G.P.S. device was reporting speeds around 6.5 mph a lot more often than speeds at or above the magic 7.2.
I tried to stay relaxed and take the best strokes I could. One thing I focused on was keeping the stroke rate a bit lower than I'm used to: in the stroke clinic I took last fall, Morgan House emphasized hesitation between strokes to avail oneself of that extra half-second of glide. I've always been a bit overeager to take that next stroke.
As the finish line came into view I knew a sub-50 wasn't going to happen, but I tried to finish strong. I crossed the line in 51:47, and that was a bit of a moral victory because it had been several years since I'd last broken 52 minutes. My G.P.S. device measured the course at 5.92 miles... interestingly, that's a hundredth of a mile more than the measurement I got last year when the water level was 11.3 feet. Maybe high water doesn't make as much difference as I thought it did.
Glad to have this time trial over for another year, I relished the lovely day as I paddled the mile and a half or so back to the marina. I ate the apple and drank the water I'd left on the dock and went home and had a nourishing lunch. Then I took a nap.
I slept better last night and woke up to another lovely morning today. I headed down to the river with the intention of doing nothing but enjoying the nice weather and the high water on the river, now up to 37.8 feet.
Things didn't quite go according to plan, and in fact one should never count on everything going according to plan when doing things outdoors. Shortly after I'd paddled out of the harbor and headed up the Mississippi, one of my boat's foot pedals broke. I wasn't terribly surprised, as my boat is eight years old and the pedal broke in a place that gets a lot of routine wear and tear. I paddled up into the flooded Greenbelt Park and found a place to get out of my boat to inspect the damage, and I decided that the pedal should still be functional enough for me to continue.
I ferried across the river and did a loop through some of the flooded bottomland on the Arkansas side. Once I'd had enough of that I ferried back across and re-entered the harbor. I immediately encountered a boat from the Memphis Police Harbor Patrol. One of the men on board asked me if I'd seen any other kayakers out on the river. I said I hadn't. He told me the Coast Guard had gotten a report of a "kayaker in distress" and passed it on to them. I repeated that I hadn't seen anything and continued on my way. Moments later a cop on the bank waved me over and asked me again if I'd seen anybody in trouble. I replied that I hadn't. He asked me if I had flipped my boat at any time. "Not today," I told him.
I continued paddling north, back toward the dock. I noticed a police helicopter circling overhead. I had a feeling somebody had seen me out on the river, thought I was in distress, and reported me. I figured I'd better just get back to the marina and put my boat away before any other law enforcement types ran me down and tried to accuse me of raising a false alarm or setting a poor example for my fellow citizens or something like that.
As I approached the marina, I was hailed by an officer at the Coast Guard station directly across the harbor. I paddled over to him and was relieved to be greeted in a friendly manner. It was he who had taken the original report, and he asked me if I had paddled across the river. I told him I had. He felt certain that the caller had mistakenly thought I was in some sort of trouble, and that he would call off the search.
It's actually not the first time somebody has mistakenly thought I was in trouble. And I try so hard to look competent out there. Oh well.
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