The sun sets over the Louisiana forest this past Friday evening. This was the view from my bedroom in Vicksburg: I was staying at the Bazsinsky House, which sits on the bluff overlooking the Vicksburg Front. The water in the foreground is the Yazoo Cutoff, whose confluence with the Mississippi River is to the left of this picture.
I'm not about to pick up and move to Vicksburg--I'm not sure there's any place I want to live more than my hometown--but I sure enjoy visiting there.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Sunday, April 29, 2012
The Cutoff
The riverfront of Vicksburg, known as the "Vicksburg Front," sits on the Yazoo River. More precisely, it's the Yazoo Cutoff. Once upon a time, the Mississippi River flowed by the Vicksburg Front, but one of the big floods of the 20th century--'27 or '37, not sure which--shifted the Big Muddy's course to the west, leaving Vicksburg high and dry. To restore its access to the Mississippi, Vicksburg got out its shovels and redirected the Yazoo through the former riverbed of the big river.
Most of the time the Yazoo Cutoff has little or no flow, with water backing up from the Mississippi about a mile below the Vicksburg Front. In this way it is similar to Wolf River Harbor at Memphis. So I felt right at home as I put my boat in the water here this morning for a long recovery paddle. I paddled out onto the Mississippi and went down below the Interstate 20 bridge, then paddled up the Louisiana bank. The conditions were ideal: it was warm with just enough of a breeze to keep me cool, and the river was calm.
Physically I felt surprisingly good considering yesterday's tough trek downriver. My right pec felt better than it did before the race yesterday morning. I don't get it, but I'm not complaining.
I returned to the Yazoo Cutoff and took out an hour and forty minutes after putting in. I headed back up the bluff to where Martha and I were staying, and we prepared for the trip back to Memphis. And so I proceed from one phase of my season to the next, with a month of hard training planned to prepare for the year's most intense races in June.
Most of the time the Yazoo Cutoff has little or no flow, with water backing up from the Mississippi about a mile below the Vicksburg Front. In this way it is similar to Wolf River Harbor at Memphis. So I felt right at home as I put my boat in the water here this morning for a long recovery paddle. I paddled out onto the Mississippi and went down below the Interstate 20 bridge, then paddled up the Louisiana bank. The conditions were ideal: it was warm with just enough of a breeze to keep me cool, and the river was calm.
Physically I felt surprisingly good considering yesterday's tough trek downriver. My right pec felt better than it did before the race yesterday morning. I don't get it, but I'm not complaining.
I returned to the Yazoo Cutoff and took out an hour and forty minutes after putting in. I headed back up the bluff to where Martha and I were staying, and we prepared for the trip back to Memphis. And so I proceed from one phase of my season to the next, with a month of hard training planned to prepare for the year's most intense races in June.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
No reason for the "bluz" today
It seems like every year I'm tired to the point of catatonia after finishing the Bluz Cruz Marathon, but this year's installment seemed tougher than most. Part of it was simply the duration: whereas last year my time was 1 hour, 56 minutes and change, today it was just over 2:20. Low water, a pesky south wind, and numerous patches of choppy water slowed the race down considerably. Two hours is about my limit for subjecting myself to punishment in the boat, and I wasn't happy to have to stretch that out today.
But I won the race, and it's hard not to be pleased whenever that happens. I spent the early miles of the race in a pack with a couple of tandem kayaks. Once I had pulled away from them I paddled alone for the middle ten or so miles until the Arkansan Phil Capel, who had found a faster line around a bend than I had, pulled even with me.
The final mile of this 22-mile race is spent paddling up the Yazoo River to a finish line on Vicksburg's riverfront. Two of the previous three times I had done this race I had bonked as I entered the mouth of the Yazoo, holding on for the wins by virtue of the big leads I had built. Today I had no such luxury with Phil on my case, and I tried to paddle as efficiently as possible in the last six miles to avoid another bonking episode. I wasn't entirely confident of the outcome until I was within a half-mile of the finish, but it all worked out okay.
After the race Melissa Morrison, a paddler in one of the tandems I had raced with early on, asked me how I managed to control a tippy surf ski in conditions like we had today. I wasn't sure how to answer her question at the time, but after spending the rest of the day giving it some thought, I'd say my experience racing whitewater slalom has a lot to do with it. Slalom racers devote a huge chunk of their practice time to keeping their boats moving in every conceivable type of water condition. I've carried that idea into my training for open-water distance racing, doing balance and control drills in choppy or boily water whenever I can find it. I do one of my most simple drills in the harbor at home on windy days when there are small waves: I paddle my boat in beam waves (i.e., the waves are moving from my right to my left or vice-versa) and try to keep my deck perfectly level, without any rocking from side to side. Even on teeny little waves, I have developed a comfort level that carries over to bigger stuff that I sometimes encounter in races, and I encourage anybody reading this blog to try it. I'm not a particularly powerful or speedy paddler, and I'm also not getting any younger, so I think this technical stuff is my best hope for staying competitive.
But I won the race, and it's hard not to be pleased whenever that happens. I spent the early miles of the race in a pack with a couple of tandem kayaks. Once I had pulled away from them I paddled alone for the middle ten or so miles until the Arkansan Phil Capel, who had found a faster line around a bend than I had, pulled even with me.
The final mile of this 22-mile race is spent paddling up the Yazoo River to a finish line on Vicksburg's riverfront. Two of the previous three times I had done this race I had bonked as I entered the mouth of the Yazoo, holding on for the wins by virtue of the big leads I had built. Today I had no such luxury with Phil on my case, and I tried to paddle as efficiently as possible in the last six miles to avoid another bonking episode. I wasn't entirely confident of the outcome until I was within a half-mile of the finish, but it all worked out okay.
After the race Melissa Morrison, a paddler in one of the tandems I had raced with early on, asked me how I managed to control a tippy surf ski in conditions like we had today. I wasn't sure how to answer her question at the time, but after spending the rest of the day giving it some thought, I'd say my experience racing whitewater slalom has a lot to do with it. Slalom racers devote a huge chunk of their practice time to keeping their boats moving in every conceivable type of water condition. I've carried that idea into my training for open-water distance racing, doing balance and control drills in choppy or boily water whenever I can find it. I do one of my most simple drills in the harbor at home on windy days when there are small waves: I paddle my boat in beam waves (i.e., the waves are moving from my right to my left or vice-versa) and try to keep my deck perfectly level, without any rocking from side to side. Even on teeny little waves, I have developed a comfort level that carries over to bigger stuff that I sometimes encounter in races, and I encourage anybody reading this blog to try it. I'm not a particularly powerful or speedy paddler, and I'm also not getting any younger, so I think this technical stuff is my best hope for staying competitive.
Friday, April 27, 2012
Heading downriver
Martha and I went down and paddled for 70 minutes this morning, and I loaded my boat for the four-hour drive to Vicksburg. My pec is feeling pretty good--maybe just a hint remains of whatever is wrong with it--so I plan to go for it tomorrow.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Hoping to be race-ready
I did another stripped-down strength workout today, and another 75-minute paddling session in the harbor. My pec muscle is still bothering me a little--it's not really in pain, but it doesn't feel quite right. All I know to do at this point is go easy on it for a few days and then put it to the test in the race this Saturday.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Backing off
Well, I seem to have a little injury. I felt fine lifting weights and paddling Sunday morning, but by that afternoon I had some pain in my right pectoralis muscle. This is an injury I've had several times in the past; I think it's just a small tear. Having raced on top of a couple of pretty tough workouts last week, I was probably a little vulnerable, and I'll bet I hurt it lifting weights Sunday morning.
In my experience this sort of thing has healed after a few days of rest, so I'm trying to take it easy for several days. Today I eliminated the military press and pullups from my strength routine, and did only four laps of the circuit. Then I did an easy 75-minute paddle in the harbor rather than the interval workout that was on the schedule today.
I don't know an athlete at any level that doesn't have occasional training disruptions. You get sick, or you get injured, or you have a death in the family... one way or another, events conspire to make sure your training doesn't go right on schedule from start to finish. With any luck, several easy days will do me some good and I'll be ready to go again.
In my experience this sort of thing has healed after a few days of rest, so I'm trying to take it easy for several days. Today I eliminated the military press and pullups from my strength routine, and did only four laps of the circuit. Then I did an easy 75-minute paddle in the harbor rather than the interval workout that was on the schedule today.
I don't know an athlete at any level that doesn't have occasional training disruptions. You get sick, or you get injured, or you have a death in the family... one way or another, events conspire to make sure your training doesn't go right on schedule from start to finish. With any luck, several easy days will do me some good and I'll be ready to go again.
U.S. Olympic Team watch
This past weekend, Carrie Johnson of San Diego became the first paddler to make the U.S. Olympic team. By virtue of her strong performances in 2011, all Johnson had to do was win the women's 500-meter kayak race at the U.S. Team Trials at Oklahoma City, and she did just that, clocking 1 minute, 57.76 seconds. If another paddler had won the race, she would have had to beat Johnson again in the first World Cup race to claim the Olympic berth. But Johnson took care of business and is now a three-time Olympian.
The women's 500-meter kayak spot is one of only two berths the U.S. has qualified for the Olympic flatwater regatta this summer. The other is a spot in the men's 200-meter kayak race, and Ryan Dolan of Kailua, Hawaii, was in the same position as Johnson: if he won the 200 meters at Trials, he was on the Olympic team. But Tim Hornsby of Atlanta edged Dolan by eight tenths of a second, so now Dolan and Hornsby will move on to the first World Cup race to decide who goes to London. World Cup #1 will be May 19-20 at Poznan, Poland.
On the whitewater side, the U.S. National Team was selected in a Team Trials at Charlotte on April 13-15. The national team consists of three boats in each class, but only one boat in each of the four Olympic classes-- ladies' kayak, men's single canoe, men's double canoe, and men's kayak--will compete in London. The athletes who will fill those spots will be decided in the first World Cup race at Cardiff, Wales, on June 8-10.
The whitewater slalom competition for the London Olympics will take place from July 29 to August 2 at the Lee Valley White Water Centre in Hertfordshire. The Olympic flatwater sprint regatta will be August 6-11 at Eton Dorney, Buckinghamshire.
The women's 500-meter kayak spot is one of only two berths the U.S. has qualified for the Olympic flatwater regatta this summer. The other is a spot in the men's 200-meter kayak race, and Ryan Dolan of Kailua, Hawaii, was in the same position as Johnson: if he won the 200 meters at Trials, he was on the Olympic team. But Tim Hornsby of Atlanta edged Dolan by eight tenths of a second, so now Dolan and Hornsby will move on to the first World Cup race to decide who goes to London. World Cup #1 will be May 19-20 at Poznan, Poland.
On the whitewater side, the U.S. National Team was selected in a Team Trials at Charlotte on April 13-15. The national team consists of three boats in each class, but only one boat in each of the four Olympic classes-- ladies' kayak, men's single canoe, men's double canoe, and men's kayak--will compete in London. The athletes who will fill those spots will be decided in the first World Cup race at Cardiff, Wales, on June 8-10.
The whitewater slalom competition for the London Olympics will take place from July 29 to August 2 at the Lee Valley White Water Centre in Hertfordshire. The Olympic flatwater sprint regatta will be August 6-11 at Eton Dorney, Buckinghamshire.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Monday Photo Feature
For her first canoe and kayak race ever, Ocean Springs resident Dana Robertson chose the Bluz Cruz Marathon, a 22-mile race on the Mississippi River at Vicksburg, last year. The conditions were not ideal for a first-time racer--a violent storm front had come through the day before and a brisk northwest breeze made the river awfully bumpy--but Dana didn't seem too perturbed.
This Saturday, a much more seasoned Dana will return to Vicksburg. I'll be there too, along with a few dozen other racers. The river will be significantly lower this year, so I expect the times will be slower as we wind our way through the exposed sandbars. In any case, it's a beautiful section of river, and the people who put the race on are exceptionally nice. So I'm looking forward to this weekend.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Minimal post-race pain
Today I did six laps of the April strength circuit and paddled my boat for 90 minutes. I'm feeling not nearly as beat-up today as I usually do the day after a race. Yesterday's race was more about staying upright and negotiating the waves than it was about putting the hammer down. I'm glad to be recovering from it quickly with another race coming up this Saturday.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
A win for the boat today
I got up early today and made the three-hour drive down to the race on Ross Barnett Reservoir outside Jackson, Mississippi. When I got there the skies were overcast, the temperature was a cool 60 degrees, and a breeze was blowing.
One of the first people I saw in the parking lot was Christian Maßow (pronounced "massow"), the man who had beaten me down at Ocean Springs back on March 3. He had spanked me by about four minutes in that 9.5-mile race, and I figured I was in for more of the same in today's 9-miler.
But then the gun went off, and once we were a mile or so into the race it became clear that I, paddling my surf ski, was better equipped for the conditions than Christian was in his K-1. Out in the heart of the lake the waves were about as big as I've ever seen in non-coastal Mississippi. While my high-volume bow rose up and over each wave on the trip out into the wind, poor Christian was taking one gigantic splash after another in his chest, and throwing down a brace for almost every stroke he took. After making the buoy turn and heading back downwind toward the finish, I found many surfable waves and increased my lead. And so I won the race.
I've always been fond of the motto "It's not the boat; it's the motor." Having a good boat is important, of course, but I have little patience for people who say things like "So-and-so won that race because he had the fastest boat," as if the training so-and-so had done in that boat didn't count for anything.
Well, I have to admit that my win today was all about the boat. If conditions had been calm, or if Christian had had a more suitable craft for rough water, I'd probably be sitting here back home with a second-place medal instead of a first-place one.
But I'm not complaining. I'll take a win any way I can get it. Sometimes winning a race is simply a matter of being there to take advantage when the favorite is having unforseen problems.
One of the first people I saw in the parking lot was Christian Maßow (pronounced "massow"), the man who had beaten me down at Ocean Springs back on March 3. He had spanked me by about four minutes in that 9.5-mile race, and I figured I was in for more of the same in today's 9-miler.
But then the gun went off, and once we were a mile or so into the race it became clear that I, paddling my surf ski, was better equipped for the conditions than Christian was in his K-1. Out in the heart of the lake the waves were about as big as I've ever seen in non-coastal Mississippi. While my high-volume bow rose up and over each wave on the trip out into the wind, poor Christian was taking one gigantic splash after another in his chest, and throwing down a brace for almost every stroke he took. After making the buoy turn and heading back downwind toward the finish, I found many surfable waves and increased my lead. And so I won the race.
I've always been fond of the motto "It's not the boat; it's the motor." Having a good boat is important, of course, but I have little patience for people who say things like "So-and-so won that race because he had the fastest boat," as if the training so-and-so had done in that boat didn't count for anything.
Well, I have to admit that my win today was all about the boat. If conditions had been calm, or if Christian had had a more suitable craft for rough water, I'd probably be sitting here back home with a second-place medal instead of a first-place one.
But I'm not complaining. I'll take a win any way I can get it. Sometimes winning a race is simply a matter of being there to take advantage when the favorite is having unforseen problems.
Friday, April 20, 2012
Pre-race ritual
Today I did a light paddle in the harbor, then loaded my boat on the car for the trip to Ridgeland, Mississippi (a suburb of Jackson), site of tomorrow's Gator Bait Waterfest Regatta. It's about a three-hour drive from Memphis; I'll leave early tomorrow morning.
My pre-race routine is fairly straightforward. The day before the race I gather together the clothing and equipment I'll need. I grab my small toolbox in which I keep tools for making adjustments and minor repairs to my surf ski in case I need to. I try to pack sets of clothes for different weather conditions. I make sure my camel back is in good working order.
In the nutrition department, I don't deviate from my normal rule, which is to eat only what I can identify. In other words, if I look at the ingredients list and see a lot of stuff I don't recognize as food, I don't eat it. (Yes, I occasionally break this rule, but not that often. Sharing a home with a spouse who feels the same way is a big help.) Vegetables, meats, fruits, grains... I try to eat them all in good balance. If I do anything different in the day or two before a race, it's to make sure I eat plenty and store as much glycogen as I can, and also avoid anything that might upset my stomach.
On race day I try to arrive at the race site about 90 minutes before the start time. That gives me enough time to pick up my race packet, put my number on my boat, do a full systems check, do a little stretching, and get in a good warmup. I try not to be on site much earlier than that, because then I'm just standing around cooling my heels and wasting energy. And I should mention that racers like me are very grateful to race directors who make sure their race starts at the announced time. Sitting in the boat waiting for the start of a delayed race is another big energy-waster and concentration-buster.
Pre-race mode... that's the mode I'm in right now. I hope to have a good report posted here by tomorrow night.
My pre-race routine is fairly straightforward. The day before the race I gather together the clothing and equipment I'll need. I grab my small toolbox in which I keep tools for making adjustments and minor repairs to my surf ski in case I need to. I try to pack sets of clothes for different weather conditions. I make sure my camel back is in good working order.
In the nutrition department, I don't deviate from my normal rule, which is to eat only what I can identify. In other words, if I look at the ingredients list and see a lot of stuff I don't recognize as food, I don't eat it. (Yes, I occasionally break this rule, but not that often. Sharing a home with a spouse who feels the same way is a big help.) Vegetables, meats, fruits, grains... I try to eat them all in good balance. If I do anything different in the day or two before a race, it's to make sure I eat plenty and store as much glycogen as I can, and also avoid anything that might upset my stomach.
On race day I try to arrive at the race site about 90 minutes before the start time. That gives me enough time to pick up my race packet, put my number on my boat, do a full systems check, do a little stretching, and get in a good warmup. I try not to be on site much earlier than that, because then I'm just standing around cooling my heels and wasting energy. And I should mention that racers like me are very grateful to race directors who make sure their race starts at the announced time. Sitting in the boat waiting for the start of a delayed race is another big energy-waster and concentration-buster.
Pre-race mode... that's the mode I'm in right now. I hope to have a good report posted here by tomorrow night.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Outfitting the tandem kayak, Part 8: Making the neoprene hatch covers
I'm sorry I've taken so long to get another project post up, but this phase of the project, which I figured to be relatively easy, has been a little frustrating.
Making these hatch covers is like making a sprayskirt, only simpler because hatch covers don't require any tunnel for a paddler's waist and torso.
So I found an article on sprayskirt construction here, and I made a pair of hatch covers for the tandem kayak following the method described. But in the end, I wasn't happy with the results.
I expect this failure is due largely to my inexperience with this kind of work. But at the same time, I've always preferred skirts whose shock cord is sewn directly onto the neoprene, and I have decided to try to make my hatch covers that way. I have found an online article describing a method I think is within my ability, so I will post the results as soon as I produce them. Maybe I can manage not to waste any more neoprene.
Thank you for your patience!
Making these hatch covers is like making a sprayskirt, only simpler because hatch covers don't require any tunnel for a paddler's waist and torso.
So I found an article on sprayskirt construction here, and I made a pair of hatch covers for the tandem kayak following the method described. But in the end, I wasn't happy with the results.
I expect this failure is due largely to my inexperience with this kind of work. But at the same time, I've always preferred skirts whose shock cord is sewn directly onto the neoprene, and I have decided to try to make my hatch covers that way. I have found an online article describing a method I think is within my ability, so I will post the results as soon as I produce them. Maybe I can manage not to waste any more neoprene.
Thank you for your patience!
Spike workout
Today I did five laps of the April strength circuit and paddled for 110 minutes.
Joe and I did what I call a "spike" workout: pieces of 3 minutes, 2 minutes, 2 minutes, 6 minutes, 2 minutes, 2 minutes, 6 minutes, 2 minutes, 2 minutes, and 3 minutes, with 2 minutes recovery. I crushed the 2-minute pieces pretty hard, and the 6-minute pieces, though I pushed them hard too, felt like part of the recovery by comparison, because of the lesser intensity. When I'm in really good shape I can get an occasional "rest" during the course of a race by backing off the intensity just a tiny bit, such as when I'm riding a competitor's wake.
Yesterday I did an easy recovery paddle of 40 minutes. Also yesterday I registered for the Gator Bait Waterfest Regatta, so I guess I'm officially going to that now. With that race this Saturday and another race the following Saturday, this two-week period is shaping up to be pretty high volume and intensity.
Joe and I did what I call a "spike" workout: pieces of 3 minutes, 2 minutes, 2 minutes, 6 minutes, 2 minutes, 2 minutes, 6 minutes, 2 minutes, 2 minutes, and 3 minutes, with 2 minutes recovery. I crushed the 2-minute pieces pretty hard, and the 6-minute pieces, though I pushed them hard too, felt like part of the recovery by comparison, because of the lesser intensity. When I'm in really good shape I can get an occasional "rest" during the course of a race by backing off the intensity just a tiny bit, such as when I'm riding a competitor's wake.
Yesterday I did an easy recovery paddle of 40 minutes. Also yesterday I registered for the Gator Bait Waterfest Regatta, so I guess I'm officially going to that now. With that race this Saturday and another race the following Saturday, this two-week period is shaping up to be pretty high volume and intensity.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Intervals
Today I did five laps of the April strength circuit and paddled for 110 minutes. Joe and I did eight three-minute pieces with three minutes recovery. After feeling sort of tired and crummy for a few days, I felt stronger today.
There's a nice easy-to-understand article on the benefits of interval training here.
There's a nice easy-to-understand article on the benefits of interval training here.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Busy week ahead
Today I did five laps of the April strength circuit and paddled for 80 minutes.
I'm about 95 percent sure I'm going to enter a race this Saturday--a 9-miler on Ross Barnett Reservoir near Jackson, Mississippi. But I've got a couple of hard in-the-boat workouts scheduled this week, so I'll have to see how I'm feeling before I make the final decision. Since I'll be "training through" this race, I'll have to take full advantage of all my rest opportunities this week.
I'm about 95 percent sure I'm going to enter a race this Saturday--a 9-miler on Ross Barnett Reservoir near Jackson, Mississippi. But I've got a couple of hard in-the-boat workouts scheduled this week, so I'll have to see how I'm feeling before I make the final decision. Since I'll be "training through" this race, I'll have to take full advantage of all my rest opportunities this week.
Friday, April 13, 2012
Feeling like a workhorse
Today I paddled for 85 minutes. I paddled easy, recovering from yesterday's workout. My back is stiff and sore today, as it often is.
Tomorrow I plan to participate in a litter pickup on Workhorse Bayou, a tributary of the Wolf River in North Memphis. Seeing as how I not only paddle downstream of Workhorse Bayou but also own a house in North Memphis, it's not such an imposition on my time. Thanks to the Chickasaw Chapter of the Sierra Club for organizing this activity.
Tomorrow I plan to participate in a litter pickup on Workhorse Bayou, a tributary of the Wolf River in North Memphis. Seeing as how I not only paddle downstream of Workhorse Bayou but also own a house in North Memphis, it's not such an imposition on my time. Thanks to the Chickasaw Chapter of the Sierra Club for organizing this activity.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Sluggish off the start
Today I did four laps of the April strength circuit and paddled for 130 minutes.
Joe and I paddled up to the mouth of the Wolf and did a workout that we try to do a couple of times each season. Starting at the power lines that mark the starting line of the Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race, we did five pieces out onto the Mississippi and down to the boat ramp about a quarter-mile down the course. The recovery was the paddle back up to the start.
I didn't feel at my best today. I normally try to do these pieces at sub-maximum intensity (i.e., not quite all-out, but pretty darn close), but today I was struggling with my balance a little and just couldn't paddle as hard as I would have liked. The river, though smooth, felt awfully squirrelly, and we had a breeze swirling around from multiple directions. On top of that my digestion was a little off this morning, and it all added up to a less-than-satisfying workout.
Oh well... there will be days like this. I haven't done many workouts at this point and I don't yet have the "pop" off the starting line that I hope to have later on. In June I'll have a couple of short (5.5 miles or less) races with strong competition where getting good position early will be very important, and the purpose of this workout is to develop the ability to paddle hard off the starting line for 60-90 seconds.
Joe and I paddled up to the mouth of the Wolf and did a workout that we try to do a couple of times each season. Starting at the power lines that mark the starting line of the Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race, we did five pieces out onto the Mississippi and down to the boat ramp about a quarter-mile down the course. The recovery was the paddle back up to the start.
I didn't feel at my best today. I normally try to do these pieces at sub-maximum intensity (i.e., not quite all-out, but pretty darn close), but today I was struggling with my balance a little and just couldn't paddle as hard as I would have liked. The river, though smooth, felt awfully squirrelly, and we had a breeze swirling around from multiple directions. On top of that my digestion was a little off this morning, and it all added up to a less-than-satisfying workout.
Oh well... there will be days like this. I haven't done many workouts at this point and I don't yet have the "pop" off the starting line that I hope to have later on. In June I'll have a couple of short (5.5 miles or less) races with strong competition where getting good position early will be very important, and the purpose of this workout is to develop the ability to paddle hard off the starting line for 60-90 seconds.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Outfitting the tandem kayak, Part 7: Making the hatch rims
Now, I move on to what is probably the hardest (or at least the messiest and most time-consuming) part of this project: making the hatch rims. The hatch openings will be sealed with neoprene covers, so the rims will be just like cockpit coamings.
The first step is to glue pieces of plastic tubing around the perimeter of each cockpit opening; these will serve as a "mold" over which I can form the coamings. Like the Rubbermaid garbage can, the plastic tubing will not bond with epoxy resin, so I'll be able to pull it away once a couple of layers of the coaming have hardened. I use a hot glue gun to glue the tubing to the deck; later, when I remove the tubing, I can peel off the glue. (I got the idea to make the hatch rims this way while reading Bill Kirby's boatbuilding project, here.)
As for the coaming material itself, my first thought was to use fiberglass and Kevlar seam tape, but fortunately I sought Davey Hearn's advice before going through with that idea. Seam tape is difficult to persuade into the shape of the rim, Davey said, because of the way its fibers are oriented: the warp fibers run in alignment with the rim, while the weft fibers are orthogonal to the rim's curve. Davey went on to say that Kevlar is not a good material for a cockpit rim because it fuzzes along the trimmed edge and wears on the neoprene sprayskirt or hatch cover. He recommended making the hatch rims from ordinary fiberglass cloth cut along the bias.
Cutting fabric along the bias is a trick that's little-known outside the fashion industry. Designers of ladies' fashions often use bias-cut fabric because it conforms better to the curves of a woman's body. "Cutting along the bias" simply means cutting the fabric at a 45-degree angle to the warp and weft fibers, as shown at right. Fiberglass fabric that has been cut this way will "lie down" better on unusual surfaces like a cockpit or hatch rim. Many years ago I read something about using bias-cut fabric for tight curves and other unusual shapes, but I never really understood it before now. If patching a boat is a topic of FRP 101 in prestigious universities, then the clever manipulation of fibers is the stuff of FRP 235 or something like that.
Here's the stern hatch rim with a layer of fiberglass applied with epoxy resin. Building the rims is a tedious process that involves laying on several fragments of cloth, letting the resin harden, trimming/scraping/sanding off the jagged edges of the hardened laminate, laying on some more cloth, letting that harden, and so on. The tight-radiused corners of the hatch openings require me to reposition the plastic tubing several times.
Here's one instance where I have repositioned the tubing at a corner, using both spring clamps and glue to keep it in place. Note that I have cut away a previously laid-up section of coaming because I wasn't happy with how it looked.
Once enough glass is in place to hold the desired form, I yank out the plastic tubing.
Here's the stern hatch once its rim is finished except for some final trimming and cleaning up.
Here's the nearly-finished rim for the bow hatch. This blog post doesn't really convey just how messy and tedious this job has been. I'm ready to move on to the next thing.
The first step is to glue pieces of plastic tubing around the perimeter of each cockpit opening; these will serve as a "mold" over which I can form the coamings. Like the Rubbermaid garbage can, the plastic tubing will not bond with epoxy resin, so I'll be able to pull it away once a couple of layers of the coaming have hardened. I use a hot glue gun to glue the tubing to the deck; later, when I remove the tubing, I can peel off the glue. (I got the idea to make the hatch rims this way while reading Bill Kirby's boatbuilding project, here.)
As for the coaming material itself, my first thought was to use fiberglass and Kevlar seam tape, but fortunately I sought Davey Hearn's advice before going through with that idea. Seam tape is difficult to persuade into the shape of the rim, Davey said, because of the way its fibers are oriented: the warp fibers run in alignment with the rim, while the weft fibers are orthogonal to the rim's curve. Davey went on to say that Kevlar is not a good material for a cockpit rim because it fuzzes along the trimmed edge and wears on the neoprene sprayskirt or hatch cover. He recommended making the hatch rims from ordinary fiberglass cloth cut along the bias.
Cutting fabric along the bias is a trick that's little-known outside the fashion industry. Designers of ladies' fashions often use bias-cut fabric because it conforms better to the curves of a woman's body. "Cutting along the bias" simply means cutting the fabric at a 45-degree angle to the warp and weft fibers, as shown at right. Fiberglass fabric that has been cut this way will "lie down" better on unusual surfaces like a cockpit or hatch rim. Many years ago I read something about using bias-cut fabric for tight curves and other unusual shapes, but I never really understood it before now. If patching a boat is a topic of FRP 101 in prestigious universities, then the clever manipulation of fibers is the stuff of FRP 235 or something like that.
Here's the stern hatch rim with a layer of fiberglass applied with epoxy resin. Building the rims is a tedious process that involves laying on several fragments of cloth, letting the resin harden, trimming/scraping/sanding off the jagged edges of the hardened laminate, laying on some more cloth, letting that harden, and so on. The tight-radiused corners of the hatch openings require me to reposition the plastic tubing several times.
Here's one instance where I have repositioned the tubing at a corner, using both spring clamps and glue to keep it in place. Note that I have cut away a previously laid-up section of coaming because I wasn't happy with how it looked.
Once enough glass is in place to hold the desired form, I yank out the plastic tubing.
Here's the stern hatch once its rim is finished except for some final trimming and cleaning up.
Here's the nearly-finished rim for the bow hatch. This blog post doesn't really convey just how messy and tedious this job has been. I'm ready to move on to the next thing.
Maintaining good form
Today I did four laps of the April strength circuit and paddled for 130 minutes. Joe and I stayed in the harbor and did a workout of four eight-minute buildup tempo pieces, with four-minute recovery intervals.
One thing I always strive for in all my workouts is to maintain good form even as I get deep into the workout. Even if I have to back off the intensity a little because of fatigue late in a workout, I try to continue taking the best strokes I can. If I do have to ease up, I'll do so by pulling on the paddle a little less while keeping the stroke rate the same.
One thing I always strive for in all my workouts is to maintain good form even as I get deep into the workout. Even if I have to back off the intensity a little because of fatigue late in a workout, I try to continue taking the best strokes I can. If I do have to ease up, I'll do so by pulling on the paddle a little less while keeping the stroke rate the same.
Monday, April 9, 2012
A "hard" easy day
Today I paddled in the harbor for 35 minutes with the same friend Martha and I paddled with last Monday.
She's one of a few friends Martha and I have encouraged to come paddle with us on the riverfront. With most such friends, I have to paddle almost uncomfortably slow just so they can keep up. That's not because I'm some world class talent, but simply because these people are novice paddlers who often have very little athletic background. So even my easy pace is a little too fast for them.
Not so with this girl today. Strong and not afraid to push herself, she stayed right there with me and even pushed the pace a little. I was paddling pretty easy--I wasn't breathing hard or anything--but I was taking good solid strokes and not intentionally "waiting up" for her. She really wants to get back in shape after her pregnancy, and I'm looking forward to accompanying her on some of that journey.
She's one of a few friends Martha and I have encouraged to come paddle with us on the riverfront. With most such friends, I have to paddle almost uncomfortably slow just so they can keep up. That's not because I'm some world class talent, but simply because these people are novice paddlers who often have very little athletic background. So even my easy pace is a little too fast for them.
Not so with this girl today. Strong and not afraid to push herself, she stayed right there with me and even pushed the pace a little. I was paddling pretty easy--I wasn't breathing hard or anything--but I was taking good solid strokes and not intentionally "waiting up" for her. She really wants to get back in shape after her pregnancy, and I'm looking forward to accompanying her on some of that journey.
Monday Photo Feature
This Thursday, the U.S. Team Trials for whitewater slalom racing begins at Charlotte, North Carolina. The event will determine the U.S. national team for World Cup competition in June, and is also an important step for athletes hoping to make the Olympic team. Only one boat in each of the four Olympic classes--men's single canoe, men's double canoe, women's kayak, and men's kayak--will be allowed to compete in the Games, and the athletes' World Cup performances will be the final factor in deciding who gets to paddle up to the starting gate in London.
Twelve years ago, I participated in the Olympic selection process myself. Back then, the three-day team trials, held on the Ocoee River near Ducktown, Tennessee, was the only step in the Olympic team selection--if you won your class, you were going to the Olympics. So the event was in fact the Olympic Trials and had all the fanfare and drama you might expect to go along with that.
Here I am racing on the first day of the 2000 Olympic Trials, competing in men's single canoe (C-1). I was basically a wide-eyed bumpkin among the confident, debonair, globetrotting stars of U.S. slalom, the nerdy kid stammering as he tries to ask the homecoming queen for a date. Nobody expected me to challenge for a spot on the team, and I didn't provide any surprises.
But I was there, adding my six runs to the books. Here's a photo to prove it.
Photo by Harrison Shull.
Twelve years ago, I participated in the Olympic selection process myself. Back then, the three-day team trials, held on the Ocoee River near Ducktown, Tennessee, was the only step in the Olympic team selection--if you won your class, you were going to the Olympics. So the event was in fact the Olympic Trials and had all the fanfare and drama you might expect to go along with that.
Here I am racing on the first day of the 2000 Olympic Trials, competing in men's single canoe (C-1). I was basically a wide-eyed bumpkin among the confident, debonair, globetrotting stars of U.S. slalom, the nerdy kid stammering as he tries to ask the homecoming queen for a date. Nobody expected me to challenge for a spot on the team, and I didn't provide any surprises.
But I was there, adding my six runs to the books. Here's a photo to prove it.
Photo by Harrison Shull.
Sunday, April 8, 2012
More pep in my step
Today I did four laps of the April strength circuit and paddled for 100 minutes. Feeling more energetic today, I pushed the pace for a good chunk of the session.
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Paddlin' sunshine
Today I paddled for 90 minutes. I was still feeling tired, both from Thursday's workout and from a really lousy, frustrating day yesterday. I won't bore you with the details of that, but I will say that I kept the intensity moderate today.
Friday, April 6, 2012
Outfitting the tandem kayak, Part 6: The seat backs
Sorry to keep you waiting... I hope my technical difficulties are over for a while. Thanks to Pickle IT for getting my laptop up and running again.
Now that the bulkheads are in place, I turn my attention to the seats.
Touring kayaks typically have some sort of backrests on their seats like the one in Martha's solo kayak pictured at right. Our tandem kayak came with no such backrests. I tend to live with such things--I'm a racer, after all, and racers train to sit up straight in their boats--but Martha doesn't like it at all. And she's right, for a long day of touring is different from the two-hour-or-less races that I mostly do, and it's nice to have some back support in that situation. So I am going to see what sort of backrests I can fabricate.
My first challenge is to find some sort of a mold. I have several of these Rubbermaid garbage cans in and around my shop, and it has occurred to me that they are about the right radius for a seat-back. And the plastic these things are made of won't bond with epoxy resin, so I can lay something up directly on it.
The lamination includes three layers of fiberglass with two layers of Kevlar interspersed. My technique is to lay the cloth down a layer at a time, pour a small pool of resin on it...
...and then use a piece of minicell like a squeegee, spreading the resin out until it has been absorbed by the cloth. I keep adding resin a small bit at a time until the cloth is fully saturated.
Here's the backrest lamination after it has been fully wetted-out. I'll trim off the rough edges after the resin has hardened and I've popped the piece off its garbage-can mold.
If you look back at the picture of Martha's kayak seat above, you'll see a piece of 6-mm rope running behind the backrest. This rope controls the "recline" of the backrest; it attaches to a cleat up under the cockpit rim. The tandem boat is already equipped with such cleats, so all I need to do is include some sort of passage for a rope on the backs of these backrests I'm making. I cut a piece of plastic tubing, hold it where I want it with a clamp, and attach it to the back of the backrest with pieces of Kevlar.
And here it is... a seat back! I'll be gluing the piece of blue foam onto it. The foam is cut just a hair larger than the laminate to prevent any sharp edges from digging in.
I pondered several ways of attaching the seat back to the existing seat, but in the end I just stitched it on with some 4-mm rope. It'll be a while yet before this boat is back on the water, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed for seat-back success.
Now that the bulkheads are in place, I turn my attention to the seats.
My first challenge is to find some sort of a mold. I have several of these Rubbermaid garbage cans in and around my shop, and it has occurred to me that they are about the right radius for a seat-back. And the plastic these things are made of won't bond with epoxy resin, so I can lay something up directly on it.
The lamination includes three layers of fiberglass with two layers of Kevlar interspersed. My technique is to lay the cloth down a layer at a time, pour a small pool of resin on it...
...and then use a piece of minicell like a squeegee, spreading the resin out until it has been absorbed by the cloth. I keep adding resin a small bit at a time until the cloth is fully saturated.
Here's the backrest lamination after it has been fully wetted-out. I'll trim off the rough edges after the resin has hardened and I've popped the piece off its garbage-can mold.
If you look back at the picture of Martha's kayak seat above, you'll see a piece of 6-mm rope running behind the backrest. This rope controls the "recline" of the backrest; it attaches to a cleat up under the cockpit rim. The tandem boat is already equipped with such cleats, so all I need to do is include some sort of passage for a rope on the backs of these backrests I'm making. I cut a piece of plastic tubing, hold it where I want it with a clamp, and attach it to the back of the backrest with pieces of Kevlar.
And here it is... a seat back! I'll be gluing the piece of blue foam onto it. The foam is cut just a hair larger than the laminate to prevent any sharp edges from digging in.
I pondered several ways of attaching the seat back to the existing seat, but in the end I just stitched it on with some 4-mm rope. It'll be a while yet before this boat is back on the water, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed for seat-back success.
Recovery day
Today I went down to the river and paddled easy in the harbor for 40 minutes. I think a session like this is the best way to recover from a hard workout like I did yesterday. It's better than doing nothing at all, because by paddling I'm getting some blood flowing in all the relevant muscles, cleaning out any lactic acid that might be lingering there and facilitating the repair of damaged tissue.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
April showers
Today I did three laps of the April strength circuit and paddled for 100 minutes.
I spent the first fifty minutes paddling from Harbortown Marina up to the mouth of the Wolf River. Then I did a "pyramid" workout: pieces of 1 minute, 2 minutes, 3 minutes, 4 minutes, 5 minutes, 4 minutes, 3 minutes, 2 minutes, and 1 minute, with 2 minutes recovery between pieces. I did the first four pieces on the flatwater in the bottom mile of the Wolf. The 5-minute piece took me back out onto the Mississippi, where I did the 4-minute and 3 minute pieces as well. I was back in the harbor for the last two pieces.
Today was a beautiful day in a different way from what we've had: I paddled the first half hour or so in a light rain; up on the Wolf, there was a thin mist hanging over the water. By the time I was heading back down the Mississippi, the southwestern sky was clearing. When I reached the harbor and turned back north, the northern sky was still as dark as oil shale. Very interesting. Some of the prettiest moments of paddling I've ever had have occurred on these days of so-called "inclement weather."
I spent the first fifty minutes paddling from Harbortown Marina up to the mouth of the Wolf River. Then I did a "pyramid" workout: pieces of 1 minute, 2 minutes, 3 minutes, 4 minutes, 5 minutes, 4 minutes, 3 minutes, 2 minutes, and 1 minute, with 2 minutes recovery between pieces. I did the first four pieces on the flatwater in the bottom mile of the Wolf. The 5-minute piece took me back out onto the Mississippi, where I did the 4-minute and 3 minute pieces as well. I was back in the harbor for the last two pieces.
Today was a beautiful day in a different way from what we've had: I paddled the first half hour or so in a light rain; up on the Wolf, there was a thin mist hanging over the water. By the time I was heading back down the Mississippi, the southwestern sky was clearing. When I reached the harbor and turned back north, the northern sky was still as dark as oil shale. Very interesting. Some of the prettiest moments of paddling I've ever had have occurred on these days of so-called "inclement weather."
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
The beat goes on
Today I did three laps of the April strength circuit and paddled for 100 minutes. It was another perfect day for paddling... I'm almost getting tired of saying that.
Monday, April 2, 2012
Outfitting the tandem kayak: Please stand by
This morning I did a very easy 40-minute paddle in the harbor. Martha and I went down there and paddled with a friend of ours who has been mostly out of her boat while going through a pregnancy and getting the hang of motherhood. She's ready to start paddling again, and Martha and I are delighted to have her back on the water and we hope to meet her each Monday for a while.
For those of you who are following the outfitting project, the reason I haven't posted an update in a few days is that I'm experiencing some technical difficulty: some photos I had planned to post are saved on my laptop's hard drive, and that hard drive has decided to crash. My Training Blog by Elmore takes its commitment to its readers very seriously, and I assure you that a top expert is working to resolve the problem. I hope to have a new post up soon.
For those of you who are following the outfitting project, the reason I haven't posted an update in a few days is that I'm experiencing some technical difficulty: some photos I had planned to post are saved on my laptop's hard drive, and that hard drive has decided to crash. My Training Blog by Elmore takes its commitment to its readers very seriously, and I assure you that a top expert is working to resolve the problem. I hope to have a new post up soon.
Monday Photo Feature
This is me getting back in my boat after taking a break on Egmont Key, near the mouth of Tampa Bay, in 2010. Here in Memphis we just had our warmest March ever, making me wonder if I'll ever have to go to Florida to flee cold weather anymore.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
No fooling
Another month has arrived, and with it a new strength circuit:
Military press: 8 reps with a pair of 20-lb. dumbbells, then 5 reps with a pair of 25-lb. dumbbells
Torso twists with medicine ball: 10 reps each direction
Pullups: 6 reps
Leg raises while hanging from pullup bar: 10 reps
Bicep curls: 8 reps with 20-lb. dumbbells
I'm starting with three laps of this circuit, and I can already tell this one is quite a bit more taxing than last month's. Could be bringin' the pain once I get up into five and six laps later this month.
Then I went down to the river and paddled for 100 minutes. After a 25-minute warmup, I did four 8-minute tempo pieces with 4-minute recovery periods. In each piece, I spent the first several minutes building up to anaerobic threshold and stayed there for the remainder. Throughout, I tried to remain aware of all the technical things I've been working on while paddling easier: keeping the boat quiet (not bobbing up and down or rolling left and right), immersing the blade fully on every stroke, sitting up straight.
It all added up to a pretty exhausting day. Fortunately, it was the latest in a string of incredibly beautiful days we've been having. It's been sunny and warm, the harbor has been smooth as glass, and there's been just enough of a breeze to keep me pleasantly cool.
Military press: 8 reps with a pair of 20-lb. dumbbells, then 5 reps with a pair of 25-lb. dumbbells
Torso twists with medicine ball: 10 reps each direction
Pullups: 6 reps
Leg raises while hanging from pullup bar: 10 reps
Bicep curls: 8 reps with 20-lb. dumbbells
I'm starting with three laps of this circuit, and I can already tell this one is quite a bit more taxing than last month's. Could be bringin' the pain once I get up into five and six laps later this month.
Then I went down to the river and paddled for 100 minutes. After a 25-minute warmup, I did four 8-minute tempo pieces with 4-minute recovery periods. In each piece, I spent the first several minutes building up to anaerobic threshold and stayed there for the remainder. Throughout, I tried to remain aware of all the technical things I've been working on while paddling easier: keeping the boat quiet (not bobbing up and down or rolling left and right), immersing the blade fully on every stroke, sitting up straight.
It all added up to a pretty exhausting day. Fortunately, it was the latest in a string of incredibly beautiful days we've been having. It's been sunny and warm, the harbor has been smooth as glass, and there's been just enough of a breeze to keep me pleasantly cool.
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