My niece Rachel minds the paddles while my nephew Ben and I prepare to go canoeing on the Snake River. Rachel didn't paddle that day, but went rafting with us on the Yellowstone River a few days later. Photo by Sally Thomas.
Monday, July 28, 2014
Monday photo feature
My niece Rachel minds the paddles while my nephew Ben and I prepare to go canoeing on the Snake River. Rachel didn't paddle that day, but went rafting with us on the Yellowstone River a few days later. Photo by Sally Thomas.
Sunday, July 27, 2014
Back to the K1
After my light stretching and strength exercise this morning, I went downtown and paddled the K1 for 60 minutes. In my post two weeks ago I mentioned that I should do some untimed sprints in which I focused strictly on good form and technique, and I did a few of those today. The foot strap was helpful again today... thank you, Mike Herbert.
I also did a few stroke drills I hadn't done in a while: some backpaddling and some one-sided paddling.
I'm afraid I've lost some fitness in the last few weeks of reduced activity. I felt really tired by the end of the hour of paddling.
I also did a few stroke drills I hadn't done in a while: some backpaddling and some one-sided paddling.
I'm afraid I've lost some fitness in the last few weeks of reduced activity. I felt really tired by the end of the hour of paddling.
Settling back in
We spent the first half of this past week in the town of Gardiner, Montana, at the north entrance to Yellowstone. On Tuesday I went rafting on the Yellowstone River with my sister and my niece and nephew. We put in just downstream of the park boundary (river boating is illegal inside the park) and floated some eight miles. The kids had a great time, mostly by getting splashed by big waves and taking part in our guide's plot to pull the guide of another raft into the water. But I took every opportunity I could to share with them a few of the finer points of paddling... somebody's got to make sure those kids get raised right.
We flew home Thursday, and as lovely as the American West is, I'm glad to be back in my place, following my own schedule, getting back on my own diet, abiding by my own rules.
I would really like to get back into a strength routine, and this morning I took a baby-step in that direction. There's a post on Ron Lugbill's blog that lays out a "5P" workout (the 5 Ps are plyometrics, pushups, pullups, planks, and prehab). This morning I did a couple of sets of fifteen pushups, just to ease my muscles into it, and several of the prehab exercises (in my case they were actually rehab, since they targeted my ailing back). We're moving into the dog days of summer and I'm busy with all kinds of other things, but I hope I can build up a decent strength routine over the next couple of weeks.
We flew home Thursday, and as lovely as the American West is, I'm glad to be back in my place, following my own schedule, getting back on my own diet, abiding by my own rules.
I would really like to get back into a strength routine, and this morning I took a baby-step in that direction. There's a post on Ron Lugbill's blog that lays out a "5P" workout (the 5 Ps are plyometrics, pushups, pullups, planks, and prehab). This morning I did a couple of sets of fifteen pushups, just to ease my muscles into it, and several of the prehab exercises (in my case they were actually rehab, since they targeted my ailing back). We're moving into the dog days of summer and I'm busy with all kinds of other things, but I hope I can build up a decent strength routine over the next couple of weeks.
Monday, July 21, 2014
Monday photo feature
It's important for the paddler to wear his PFD with a nice snug fit so it doesn't ride up over his head when he's in the water. I help my nephew Ben get properly outfitted prior to our outing on the Snake River this past Thursday. Photo by Sally Thomas.
Sunday, July 20, 2014
I love wood, but not in the rivers I paddle
My family and I have moved north from the Jackson Hole area to Yellowstone National Park. Our motel in West Yellowstone has a hot tub, and it's motivated me to get back into a little rehab work on my back. My back has continued to cause me discomfort during this trip, and I'm starting to think about seeking more serious medical help for it when I get back home. For now I'm soaking and doing some stretching exercises that target that area.
So far I haven't paddled any since Thursday, but we've seen lots of rivers and lakes and the thought is never far from my mind. On Friday we ate lunch next to Cottonwood Creek in Grand Teton National Park, and the creek brought back memories of things that spooked me when I paddled a lot of Rocky Mountain whitewater in the 1990s. The creek had a healthy flow (the snowpack in the Rockies was pretty big this year), and even though the whitewater was no bigger than Class II, it was moving fast, there were practically no eddies, and downstream of our picnic spot I could see piles of logs here and there in the creek bed.
In the eastern U.S., mountain rivers tend to have pools between the drops, so that a paddler scouting from his boat can pause and look downriver for hazards without being swept into them. Furthermore, eastern rivers are fed mainly by rain and can be paddled at any time of year when there's been enough precipitation. If there's been a concentration of rain in, say, the Cumberland Plateau region, paddlers from all over the Southeast will converge there, and word will quickly get out if a river is blocked by a tree or a logjam.
Rivers and creeks in the much younger Rocky Mountain chain tend to be much more continuous, cutting fast courses into the slopes with few eddies or pools. And in a typical year, the peak snowmelt season lasts for only three or four weeks from late May through early July. A group of paddlers that ventures to one of the more obscure, remote creeks might be the only party to run that creek that year, and they will have no information on what wood might have become lodged in the creek bed.
For several summers in the 90s I traveled to the Rockies and ran with a group of aggressive boaters who sought out some of these hidden gems. I saw some of the most beautiful places I've ever seen and honed my whitewater skills to a fine polish. But I also remember a few days where I was frightened for the entire duration of a run and gave thanks to the heavens when I arrived at the takeout unharmed.
Now, with my ten-year-old niece and twelve-year-old nephew in tow, I'll be sticking to the easy stuff in whatever paddling I do. And here in Yellowstone National Park, boating on moving water is illegal anyway (some backstory on that here). But it's interesting to gaze at the Rocky Mountain whitewater, reliving past experiences and perhaps pondering future ones.
So far I haven't paddled any since Thursday, but we've seen lots of rivers and lakes and the thought is never far from my mind. On Friday we ate lunch next to Cottonwood Creek in Grand Teton National Park, and the creek brought back memories of things that spooked me when I paddled a lot of Rocky Mountain whitewater in the 1990s. The creek had a healthy flow (the snowpack in the Rockies was pretty big this year), and even though the whitewater was no bigger than Class II, it was moving fast, there were practically no eddies, and downstream of our picnic spot I could see piles of logs here and there in the creek bed.
In the eastern U.S., mountain rivers tend to have pools between the drops, so that a paddler scouting from his boat can pause and look downriver for hazards without being swept into them. Furthermore, eastern rivers are fed mainly by rain and can be paddled at any time of year when there's been enough precipitation. If there's been a concentration of rain in, say, the Cumberland Plateau region, paddlers from all over the Southeast will converge there, and word will quickly get out if a river is blocked by a tree or a logjam.
Rivers and creeks in the much younger Rocky Mountain chain tend to be much more continuous, cutting fast courses into the slopes with few eddies or pools. And in a typical year, the peak snowmelt season lasts for only three or four weeks from late May through early July. A group of paddlers that ventures to one of the more obscure, remote creeks might be the only party to run that creek that year, and they will have no information on what wood might have become lodged in the creek bed.
For several summers in the 90s I traveled to the Rockies and ran with a group of aggressive boaters who sought out some of these hidden gems. I saw some of the most beautiful places I've ever seen and honed my whitewater skills to a fine polish. But I also remember a few days where I was frightened for the entire duration of a run and gave thanks to the heavens when I arrived at the takeout unharmed.
Now, with my ten-year-old niece and twelve-year-old nephew in tow, I'll be sticking to the easy stuff in whatever paddling I do. And here in Yellowstone National Park, boating on moving water is illegal anyway (some backstory on that here). But it's interesting to gaze at the Rocky Mountain whitewater, reliving past experiences and perhaps pondering future ones.
Thursday, July 17, 2014
The Snake
I'm a couple of days into my vacation out West, and mostly I've been tired. I don't know if it was the jet plane or the change in my diet or just the general shove out of my normal routine, but I haven't felt all that energetic so far.
But I'm here, so I've got to do what I can. Today I had a lovely canoe trip down a section of the Snake River with my 12-year-old nephew Ben. We put in just below the Jackson Lake dam and took out at Pacific Creek. The section was not at all difficult, but had enough moving water for me to teach Ben a little about ferries and eddy turns and peel outs. Before today I don't think I had ever taken Ben on anything but the flatwater of Wolf River Harbor at home.
We had a great view of Mount Moran for much of the trip. We also saw a bald eagle, an otter, several white pelicans, lots of ducks, and lots of fish.
We're spending one more night in Jackson, and then tomorrow we'll head north through Grand Teton National Park and arrive in West Yellowstone by the end of the day. Like I said before, if an opportunity to paddle presents itself I'll jump on it, but otherwise I'll flow along with whatever the family is doing. I hope I can get some more pep in my step soon.
But I'm here, so I've got to do what I can. Today I had a lovely canoe trip down a section of the Snake River with my 12-year-old nephew Ben. We put in just below the Jackson Lake dam and took out at Pacific Creek. The section was not at all difficult, but had enough moving water for me to teach Ben a little about ferries and eddy turns and peel outs. Before today I don't think I had ever taken Ben on anything but the flatwater of Wolf River Harbor at home.
We had a great view of Mount Moran for much of the trip. We also saw a bald eagle, an otter, several white pelicans, lots of ducks, and lots of fish.
We're spending one more night in Jackson, and then tomorrow we'll head north through Grand Teton National Park and arrive in West Yellowstone by the end of the day. Like I said before, if an opportunity to paddle presents itself I'll jump on it, but otherwise I'll flow along with whatever the family is doing. I hope I can get some more pep in my step soon.
Monday, July 14, 2014
Monday photo feature
I'm headed to Yellowstone tomorrow. I expect I'll mostly be doing tourist stuff with the family. We're flying, so I won't be taking any boats or gear, but I suppose it's possible I could rent such things if a golden opportunity presents itself.
I've never been inside Yellowstone National Park before, but I've been in the vicinity a time or two. I've made a couple of interesting trips to the neighboring state of Idaho, and in this 1996 self-portrait I show off my housekeeping skills along the East Fork of the South Fork of the Salmon River. It's really not all that close to Yellowstone, but it's probably the closest photo I've got.
Sunday, July 13, 2014
Offseason tinkering
I've been mostly out of the boat this week, trying to tie up all kinds of loose ends before I leave this Tuesday on a trip to Yellowstone National Park with my sister's family and my mother. The layoff has probably not been such a bad thing, as it's allowed me to let last Sunday's frustration wear off a bit. My back is feeling better as well, though there's still that sore spot in the upper left quadrant that I just can't shake. I'm afraid it's just waiting to flare up again as soon as I put some stress on it.
I paddled with Joe last Tuesday for 70 minutes. It was quite windy, so I paddled the surf ski. Today it was calm, and I got in a 40-minute session in the K1. Heeding Mike Herbert's advice, I put a foot strap in my K1 today--actually just a nylon-webbing belt that I've had for years and never wear. And I could definitely see how this feature will make a positive difference. That old Mike knows a thing or two.
I spent much of the 40 minutes experimenting with the added control the strap gives me over my boat. Then I did a couple of timed pieces: from the monorail bridge to the Hernando DeSoto Bridge (for which my PR is about 1:59) and from one set of pilings to the other beneath the A.W. Willis (formerly the Auction Avenue) Bridge (for which my PR is about 0:29). I tried to concern myself less with my times than with good form in the boat. Though I did not feel especially fluid or relaxed, my times ended up being decent: 2:03 and 0:30.
I think a good plan for the rest of this summer is to do a lot of untimed short, fast pieces, trying to achieve a higher comfort level at high intensity.
I paddled with Joe last Tuesday for 70 minutes. It was quite windy, so I paddled the surf ski. Today it was calm, and I got in a 40-minute session in the K1. Heeding Mike Herbert's advice, I put a foot strap in my K1 today--actually just a nylon-webbing belt that I've had for years and never wear. And I could definitely see how this feature will make a positive difference. That old Mike knows a thing or two.
I spent much of the 40 minutes experimenting with the added control the strap gives me over my boat. Then I did a couple of timed pieces: from the monorail bridge to the Hernando DeSoto Bridge (for which my PR is about 1:59) and from one set of pilings to the other beneath the A.W. Willis (formerly the Auction Avenue) Bridge (for which my PR is about 0:29). I tried to concern myself less with my times than with good form in the boat. Though I did not feel especially fluid or relaxed, my times ended up being decent: 2:03 and 0:30.
I think a good plan for the rest of this summer is to do a lot of untimed short, fast pieces, trying to achieve a higher comfort level at high intensity.
Monday, July 7, 2014
Post-trip: feeling like a mental case
On Saturday I paddled the K1 in the harbor for 30 minutes before loading up and heading for southern Missouri. I traveled by way of Hardy, Arkansas, where my family took trips when I was a child. I loved those vacations more than anything. I took my time Saturday as I revisited the route that once got me so excited: the flat-as-a-board Arkansas Delta giving way to the eastern foothills of the Ozarks; the Santa Fe Railroad tracks running alongside the highway; familiar town names like Hoxie, Walnut Ridge, Pocahontas, Ravenden, and Imboden; the lovely clear Spring River, where I got in a canoe for the first time.
I was past Hardy before I realized that I had a pretty bad "trucker burn" going. The weather was nice so I had my window open, and I had on a tank top, and heading north and west I was exposed to the afternoon sun. So I got burned on my entire left arm from the shoulder down, on my left thigh, and on the left side of my face and neck.
I arrived at Sunburst Ranch campground on the North Fork of the White River in the late afternoon, and was reminded of why camping on Fourth of July weekend is not as pleasant as it should be. There are people in our society who treat this holiday as a license to be as loud and obnoxious as they wish, and if you dare call them out on it then of course you must hate America. Thankfully, the jerks at Sunburst Ranch were relatively tame this time around--their incredibly loud fireworks ceased around ten o'clock.
Yesterday morning the racers began to arrive for the first event, a race to Dawt Mill some seven or eight miles down the North Fork. Most of them were paddling aluminum canoes: fabled tandems like Don Walls/Dale Burris and Jim Short/Doug Pennington, along with younger crews like Nathan White/Josh Sayger. My competition in the kayak class was three-time Olympian Mike Herbert, who, to be honest, inhabits a different competitive universe from mine. But somehow I managed to have a faster start than he did, possibly with the help of some faster water. I led him by a nose for some ten seconds before he took the lead and began to pull away.
I always forget how pretty this stretch of the North Fork is. I can't remember when I had last been on water that was clear enough to reveal the river bottom. I also forget that it has a generous offering of Class II rapids; if there were any more whitewater here I would opt for a sure-enough wildwater boat rather than my lighter, tippier Apple Turnover.
I managed to overtake all of the canoes, who had started about five minutes before Mike and me, so I was the second boat across the line. Burris/Walls took the aluminum win, and Short/Pennington won a furious sprint to the finish to claim second place over White/Sayger.
We had about an hour break before the event that had really gotten me up here in the first place: a race of about six miles on Norfork Reservoir in which I would compete in my K1 for the first time. Mike was entered in the K1 he'll be racing in the world marathon championships this September, and Don Walls was nice enough to enter in his surf ski so I wouldn't be all alone out there once Mike had left me in the dust.
The gun went off, and Mike sprinted into the lead as expected. As I've mentioned numerous times before, I lack the confidence in my stability to sprint all-out in the K1, so I found myself in third place behind Don. Once the pace settled down I managed to pull even with Don, though I suspect he might have waited up for me so we could trade wake rides--he's a nice guy that way. But I was actually feeling pretty good and was able to relax my body and rotate fully.
Then a motorboat came zooming past us on our right, and that was the beginning of the end for me. As the wakes began to undulate beneath me, my concentration was badly disrupted and I reverted to stiff, tentative strokes with a lot of braces. Don quickly opened several boat lengths on me and even as the water calmed back down, I felt flustered and unable to relax. I wasted a bunch of energy trying to get myself refocused, and by the time we reached the turnaround point, the combined effects of this mental fatigue and my fatigue from the morning race began to take their toll. I made several attempts to cut into Don's lead, but Don, a fit, strong athlete in his own right, wasn't going to let me have it. With a mile to go I was about ready to raise the white flag.
As I approached the finish under the U.S. 160 bridge, Mike, who's as nice a guy as you'll ever meet, paddled alongside me and urged me to finish strong. I was truly exhausted but I didn't want to let Mike down, and I paddled as hard as I could. Afterward, Mike advised me on things I already knew: I needed to sit more erect and relax and allow my body to open up fully for maximum stroke power. He noticed that my K1 lacks a foot strap and said it would make a big difference if I installed one. In the boats I have paddled that have foot straps, I have not found the strap to be something I rely on, but I am going to defer to Mike's expertise and install one in my K1 as soon as I get a chance.
Today I am feeling as sore as ever and a bit demoralized after this race in which I was unable to perform like the paddler I know I can be. I've always sort of scoffed at guys who are constantly changing boats with the belief that a different boat will make them better, but I am beginning to question whether this particular K1, designed for world-class races of 1000 meters or less, is really the right one for me. I've always had sort of a brash attitude toward such things--"I may not be as fast as the top guys, but by golly, I can paddle any boat they can!"--but something a little bit more stable and fit to cruise over a longer distance might be what I need. But I'm not ready to go out and get a new boat just now, so I'll keep playing around with this one and learning whatever I can about it and about myself.
I was past Hardy before I realized that I had a pretty bad "trucker burn" going. The weather was nice so I had my window open, and I had on a tank top, and heading north and west I was exposed to the afternoon sun. So I got burned on my entire left arm from the shoulder down, on my left thigh, and on the left side of my face and neck.
I arrived at Sunburst Ranch campground on the North Fork of the White River in the late afternoon, and was reminded of why camping on Fourth of July weekend is not as pleasant as it should be. There are people in our society who treat this holiday as a license to be as loud and obnoxious as they wish, and if you dare call them out on it then of course you must hate America. Thankfully, the jerks at Sunburst Ranch were relatively tame this time around--their incredibly loud fireworks ceased around ten o'clock.
Yesterday morning the racers began to arrive for the first event, a race to Dawt Mill some seven or eight miles down the North Fork. Most of them were paddling aluminum canoes: fabled tandems like Don Walls/Dale Burris and Jim Short/Doug Pennington, along with younger crews like Nathan White/Josh Sayger. My competition in the kayak class was three-time Olympian Mike Herbert, who, to be honest, inhabits a different competitive universe from mine. But somehow I managed to have a faster start than he did, possibly with the help of some faster water. I led him by a nose for some ten seconds before he took the lead and began to pull away.
I always forget how pretty this stretch of the North Fork is. I can't remember when I had last been on water that was clear enough to reveal the river bottom. I also forget that it has a generous offering of Class II rapids; if there were any more whitewater here I would opt for a sure-enough wildwater boat rather than my lighter, tippier Apple Turnover.
I managed to overtake all of the canoes, who had started about five minutes before Mike and me, so I was the second boat across the line. Burris/Walls took the aluminum win, and Short/Pennington won a furious sprint to the finish to claim second place over White/Sayger.
We had about an hour break before the event that had really gotten me up here in the first place: a race of about six miles on Norfork Reservoir in which I would compete in my K1 for the first time. Mike was entered in the K1 he'll be racing in the world marathon championships this September, and Don Walls was nice enough to enter in his surf ski so I wouldn't be all alone out there once Mike had left me in the dust.
The gun went off, and Mike sprinted into the lead as expected. As I've mentioned numerous times before, I lack the confidence in my stability to sprint all-out in the K1, so I found myself in third place behind Don. Once the pace settled down I managed to pull even with Don, though I suspect he might have waited up for me so we could trade wake rides--he's a nice guy that way. But I was actually feeling pretty good and was able to relax my body and rotate fully.
Then a motorboat came zooming past us on our right, and that was the beginning of the end for me. As the wakes began to undulate beneath me, my concentration was badly disrupted and I reverted to stiff, tentative strokes with a lot of braces. Don quickly opened several boat lengths on me and even as the water calmed back down, I felt flustered and unable to relax. I wasted a bunch of energy trying to get myself refocused, and by the time we reached the turnaround point, the combined effects of this mental fatigue and my fatigue from the morning race began to take their toll. I made several attempts to cut into Don's lead, but Don, a fit, strong athlete in his own right, wasn't going to let me have it. With a mile to go I was about ready to raise the white flag.
As I approached the finish under the U.S. 160 bridge, Mike, who's as nice a guy as you'll ever meet, paddled alongside me and urged me to finish strong. I was truly exhausted but I didn't want to let Mike down, and I paddled as hard as I could. Afterward, Mike advised me on things I already knew: I needed to sit more erect and relax and allow my body to open up fully for maximum stroke power. He noticed that my K1 lacks a foot strap and said it would make a big difference if I installed one. In the boats I have paddled that have foot straps, I have not found the strap to be something I rely on, but I am going to defer to Mike's expertise and install one in my K1 as soon as I get a chance.
Today I am feeling as sore as ever and a bit demoralized after this race in which I was unable to perform like the paddler I know I can be. I've always sort of scoffed at guys who are constantly changing boats with the belief that a different boat will make them better, but I am beginning to question whether this particular K1, designed for world-class races of 1000 meters or less, is really the right one for me. I've always had sort of a brash attitude toward such things--"I may not be as fast as the top guys, but by golly, I can paddle any boat they can!"--but something a little bit more stable and fit to cruise over a longer distance might be what I need. But I'm not ready to go out and get a new boat just now, so I'll keep playing around with this one and learning whatever I can about it and about myself.
Monday photo feature
Mike Herbert (left) and I sprint off the starting line for yesterday's downriver race on the North Fork of the White River. The race started at Sunburst Ranch and finished at Dawt Mill, upriver from the town of Tecumseh, Missouri. I offer this photo as proof that at least for a few seconds, I led Mike Herbert in a race. Photo by Nathan White's girlfriend.
Saturday, July 5, 2014
Road trip
I've had two or three tough days in the pain department this week. I woke up Wednesday with incredible discomfort in my neck and left shoulder, and I suspect that Tuesday's K1 paddling in unstable conditions had a lot to do with it. I think it was also the result of my being stressed out over some of life's minutiae.
By yesterday the area was finally starting to feel better. Right now I've got that little bit of soreness or knottiness in my left shoulder that I just can't seem to get rid of. I had a fairly uneventful Independence Day, and now I'm getting ready to drive up to the southern Missouri hamlet of Tecumseh for some racing tomorrow. There's actually some racing going on up there today in the USCA C1 and C2 classes, but the events I plan to do are tomorrow: in the morning I will race my old "Apple Turnover" rudderless kayak on the North Fork of the White River from Sunburst Ranch to Dawt Mill, and in the afternoon I'll go downriver to Norfork Reservoir and race my K1. The distance of the latter event is about seven and a half miles; I can't remember the mileage of the river race, but it's something less than ten miles.
It'll be my first time paddling the K1 in a competitive situation, and I'm going in with no particular expectations. I just hope to have some fun with it, and I'm also looking forward to getting away from the worries of home for a short while and seeing some friends I don't see all that often.
By yesterday the area was finally starting to feel better. Right now I've got that little bit of soreness or knottiness in my left shoulder that I just can't seem to get rid of. I had a fairly uneventful Independence Day, and now I'm getting ready to drive up to the southern Missouri hamlet of Tecumseh for some racing tomorrow. There's actually some racing going on up there today in the USCA C1 and C2 classes, but the events I plan to do are tomorrow: in the morning I will race my old "Apple Turnover" rudderless kayak on the North Fork of the White River from Sunburst Ranch to Dawt Mill, and in the afternoon I'll go downriver to Norfork Reservoir and race my K1. The distance of the latter event is about seven and a half miles; I can't remember the mileage of the river race, but it's something less than ten miles.
It'll be my first time paddling the K1 in a competitive situation, and I'm going in with no particular expectations. I just hope to have some fun with it, and I'm also looking forward to getting away from the worries of home for a short while and seeing some friends I don't see all that often.
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
Keeping at it in the K1
The hot, humid Memphis summer that we all know and love is beginning to assert itself. One of the things I liked about that rainy weather pattern we had throughout June was how beautiful the sky was, the combination of storm clouds and sunlight doing all kinds of neat things. Today we've got the sort of sky that I associate with the dog days of summer: hazy, washed out, not really cloudy but not a clear blue sky either.
Joe and I usually paddle together on Tuesdays, but he got caught up at work today and I paddled by myself for 60 minutes. Down at the river it was much windier than I was expecting on a hot day like today, so it was time for some stability practice in the K1. A drill I've been doing for years in the surf ski is to paddle in beam waves while trying to maintain as close to good flatwater form as possible. In the K1 today I felt totally awkward doing this.
I think I'll be doing some racing this weekend: the North Fork Canoe Race and Show-Me State Championships are taking place up at Tecumseh, Missouri. Most of the races take place on Norfork Lake, and I think that'll be a good place to try out the K1 in a competitive situation for the first time. It's a very low-key event that racers in that region use as a tune-up for the USCA nationals; the format mimics that of the USCAs. If I swim, I swim... it's usually plenty hot up there, so I'll relish the chance to cool off.
Joe and I usually paddle together on Tuesdays, but he got caught up at work today and I paddled by myself for 60 minutes. Down at the river it was much windier than I was expecting on a hot day like today, so it was time for some stability practice in the K1. A drill I've been doing for years in the surf ski is to paddle in beam waves while trying to maintain as close to good flatwater form as possible. In the K1 today I felt totally awkward doing this.
I think I'll be doing some racing this weekend: the North Fork Canoe Race and Show-Me State Championships are taking place up at Tecumseh, Missouri. Most of the races take place on Norfork Lake, and I think that'll be a good place to try out the K1 in a competitive situation for the first time. It's a very low-key event that racers in that region use as a tune-up for the USCA nationals; the format mimics that of the USCAs. If I swim, I swim... it's usually plenty hot up there, so I'll relish the chance to cool off.
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