Monday photo feature

I see lots and lots of pictures of paddlers in my Face Book feed.  Whitewater paddlers, flatwater paddlers, ocean paddlers, racers, explorers, daredevils, floaters... you name it, I see it.  For today's photo feature I just picked a photo at random off my feed.  This is a guy named David Dehart doing a high-flyin' boof on Roaring Creek.

Trying to stay the course amid distractions

Though I did manage to paddle on my normal schedule in the last week, my mind was occupied with out-of-the-boat concerns.  I don't want to bore you with all the details, but basically the activities I depend on for earning my living have really been piling it on lately.  The good news is I think I made some real progress toward settling that stuff down soon, but there's a lot of work yet to do in the next several weeks.  Oh, to be able to focus most of my attention on what really matters (paddling).

My paddling sessions for the week weren't anything special; in each one I warmed up and did several 8-stroke sprints and then paddled mostly steady.  Yesterday's paddle was probably the highest-quality one I did: I paddled for 90 minutes and threw in several long surges both on the flatwater of the harbor and on the more turbulent Mississippi.

A new strength routine

With my first race behind me and my second one probably about a month in the future, this week was a good time to start up a new strength routine.  All but one of the exercises are drawn from videos I shared in my last post.  Here's how it goes:

1.  Rubber band row demonstrated at 5:44 of the Daniele Molmenti video

2.  Planks on two stability balls, like this:

3.  Rubber band push-outs demonstrated at 7:20 of the Daniele Molmenti video

4.  One-foot lift demonstrated at 2:25 of the Michele Ramazza video

5.  Rubber band standing fly demonstrated at 7:35 of the Daniele Molmenti video

Reposting some good exercise videos

This is a repeat of a post I made a little over a year ago.  Below are several videos from which I have drawn exercises for my strength routines in the last several years.  While I believe traditional "pumping iron" has its place, I'm always on the lookout for exercises that emphasize precise movements and full ranges of motion.  Not only are these things important for paddlers, but also I think they promote "later-life" general fitness and wellness.  I, for one, am not getting any younger.

Core strength is an asset for paddlers of all disciplines.  Here's Chinese slalom racer Jing Jing Li demonstrating some simple core exercises one can do with a stability ball:




I love exercises that require little or no equipment.  In this video, slalom kayak world and Olympic champion Daniele Molmenti of Italy shows us some "backpacker" exercises, so named because they're easy to do anyplace on the planet you might find yourself:




The guy in this video, Michele Ramazza, has excelled in "extreme" or "freeride" racing--downriver kayaking in pretty gnarly whitewater:

  

Regrouping and looking ahead

In Saturday's race, as Jeb Berry and I were heading back toward the finish line, we saw a dolphin right before the Washington Avenue drawbridge.  I had already seen several fish jump up out of the water and when the dolphin's fin broke the surface, I thought it was just another fish.  But then the dolphin's body rose into view for about a second before diving back down below.  That was pretty cool--something I'd never seen in the middle of a race before.

On Sunday morning I put in at the Ocean Springs beachfront and paddled for 60 minutes in Mississippi Sound near the entrance to the Back Bay of Biloxi.  The nice thing about a recovery paddle is that I don't really have to "do" anything other than move my body and enjoy my surroundings.  That wasn't hard to do on a day as gorgeous and sunny as Sunday was.

Back here at home I've had a sluggish Monday.  I've had to address a list of assorted non-paddling-related chores today and it's made the whole day feel like kind of a bummer after a fun weekend of racing and visiting with friends.

One question I have to answer after any race is "What's next?"  Well, here's a schedule of the races I'm aware of in the next couple of months:

April
1  Top of the Teche.  Bayou Teche, Leonville to Arnaudville, Louisiana.  A 7.7-mile race down a Class I river.  Register

8  Bluz Cruz Canoe and Kayak Race.  Mississippi River, Vicksburg, Mississippi.  A 21-mile race down the Mississippi from Madison Parish Port to the Vicksburg front.  Register

22  Pascagoula Run.  Pascagoula River, Pascagoula, Mississippi.  A 12.5-mile race finishing at Lighthouse Park in Pascagoula.  Register

29  Bluegrass River Run.  Kentucky River near Richmond, Kentucky.  A 19-mile race down a scenic deep-water river.  Register


May
13  Osage Spring 12.  Osage River near Jefferson City, Missouri.  A 12-mile race down a Class I river.  Register

20  Chitimacha Race.  Bayou Teche, New Iberia, Louisiana, to Chitimacha Nation.  A 20-mile race down a Class I river.  Register


It turns out I have conflicts the weekend of April 1 and the weekend of April 8, so I won't be making it to Louisiana or to Vicksburg.  Each of the two races later in the month involves at least six hours of driving (one way), and because they are on consecutive weekends chances are I'll go to one of them, but not both.  The same applies to the two races in May.  With all the far-flung things I've got going on right now I have neither the time nor the energy to spend sitting in my car.

Right now the rest of the year looks like this (always subject to change, of course):


June
17  Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race.  Mississippi River, Memphis, Tennessee.  The 36th edition of this classic.  A 5000-meter race down the Mississippi, finishing at Mississippi River Park in downtown Memphis.  Register

29  Music City SUP and Kayak Race.  Cumberland River, Nashville, Tennessee.  A 6-mile flatwater race.


August
5?  The Paddle Grapple.  Fontana Reservoir near Bryson City, North Carolina.  A 6-mile flatwater race.

10-13  U.S. Canoe Association National Championships.  Mississippi River, Dubuque, Iowa.  Flatwater marathon races in numerous classes sanctioned by the USCA.


September
2  Big River Regional.  Mississippi River, Baton Rouge, Louisiana.  A 12-mile race down the Mississippi.

9  Lower Atchafalaya Race.  Atchafalaya River, Patterson, Louisiana.  An 8-mile race on this major distributary of the Mississippi River.


October
7  Gator Bait Race.  Barnett Reservoir outside Jackson, Mississippi.  A 5.5-mile flatwater race.

Monday photo feature

If you want somebody to take your picture, sometimes you just have to refuse to leave until he or she does.  The Battle On The Bayou race just saw its eighth edition Saturday, and I'm one of nine people who have participated in all eight.  Row 1, l to r: Stan Stark, Carol Dearing, yours truly, David Waters, Doug Heller; Row 2, l to r: Jeb Berry, Nate Payne, Nick Kinderman, John Collins.

Another race season has begun

It was sunny and beautiful yesterday morning as racers converged on a cove at the eastern end of the Back Bay of Biloxi for the Battle On The Bayou canoe and kayak race.  This would be the eighth annual edition of this event, and for those who like to ask "What's new this year?" the most obvious answer would be the new race course.  In past years paddlers started in this cove, turned up into Old Fort Bayou, and followed this coastal creek some nine and a half miles to a finish line next to The Shed barbecue joint.  Looking to rein in the sprawl of the event, race director Mike Pornovets decided to make this year's course an "out-and-back" configuration, looping around an island about four miles up the bayou and returning to the same place it had started.  This allowed all operations to be concentrated at one venue--the Gulf Hills Hotel just up the hill from the starting area--and eliminated the need for a shuttle to get racers from The Shed back to their cars.

When I arrived at the race site I found a familiar cast of characters assembled.  There was little question who the favorite was to take the overall title: even though it's been quite a few years now since he made his three U.S. Olympic teams and won his medals at the world championships, Mike Herbert of Rogers, Arkansas, has kept himself in outstanding physical condition and continues to be a factor in races all over the country at the age of 56.

Another boat expected to be in the hunt was the K3 paddled by the 15-year-old Pellerin triplets of Breaux Bridge, Louisiana.  Carson, Conrad, and Peyton Pellerin have grown up racing across the Gulf South region and in the past year they have surpassed my own racing ability.  I'd last seen them in September at a 9-kilometer race up near Jackson, and while I was able to hang with them for most of that race their sprint off the starting line and their final surge toward the finish line were faster than I could handle.  I came to Ocean Springs this weekend curious to see if they could sustain a higher rate of speed over the entire 8.25-mile course; if so, they would be out of my league.

I figured my own competition would come from the likes of Phil Capel of Sherwood, Arkansas; Shane Kleynhans of Brandon, Mississippi; Jeb Berry of Gulfport, Mississippi; and the Louisiana tandem of Randy Hargroder and Brad Rex.

Nearly 150 boats--kayaks, canoes, and stand-up paddleboards--maneuvered onto the starting line, and just after nine o'clock the starting gun fired.  Mike Herbert sprinted into the lead with the Pellerins in pursuit.  I quickly found myself vying for the third position with Jeb Berry on my left and Shane Kleynhans on my right.  As we rounded the tip of a sawgrass marsh and headed up into Old Fort Bayou, I settled onto Jeb's wake and we opened a couple of boat lengths on Shane, whose training has been limited this winter due to a knee-replacement surgery in early December.

Jeb Berry and me.  Photo by Doug Heller.

I was hoping that if I could withstand the triplets' initial sprint I might be able to climb up onto their stern wake like I had done at Jackson last fall, but they were having none of that.  Their rapid development has indeed continued through the winter and steadily they pulled away from the rest of us.  As they approached the Washington Avenue drawbridge they appeared well within striking distance of Mike.

I let them go and focused my attention on Jeb, who as far as I could tell was alone on my stern wake.  I threw in a number of surges during the first half of the race with the hope of dropping him, but he wouldn't drop.  As we rounded the island for the return trip I let him take the lead for a while, and even though he told me he'd been working hard to stay on my wake, he wasn't paddling like he was on the ropes now.  I sat on his wake and tried to save some energy for a strong finish.

The story up front, as recounted to me afterward, was that the triplets were hanging close enough to Mike that Mike decided to drop back and ride their wake for much of the race.  By the time they entered the final stretch he'd had all the rest he needed to turn on his world-class speed and pull away to win by about eleven seconds.  Despite Mike's convincing victory, I'm impressed by the Pellerin boys' accomplishment: I'd figured it wouldn't be long before they were able to hang with athletes of Mike's caliber, but I didn't think they would be there quite this soon.  I look forward to rooting them on as they navigate the world of flatwater sprint racing and national teams and all that kind of thing.

You don't see too many K3s out on the race circuit, but we've got a good one here in the South: the Pellerin boys from Louisiana.  I think that's Conrad in the bow and Peyton in the stern; I know it's Carson seated amidships.  Mike Herbert (foreground) doesn't often get challenged at races in this part of the country, but the Pellerins are working to change that.  Photo by Doug Heller.

I felt anything but rested after some ten minutes on Jeb's wake, but as the Washington Avenue bridge came back into view I knew it was time for me to make my case for third place overall.  Once we'd passed under the bridge it was tempting to think we were "almost there," but we still had the better part of a mile to go.  I tried to paddle as strong and efficiently as I could without blowing out everything I had too early.  Finally, when we rounded the last turn and could see the finish buoys, I decided it was time and I began my last furious push.  Even as I became more confident that I had third place in the bag, glances over my shoulder revealed Jeb's bright yellow boat still there, closer than I would have liked.  At last we crossed the line two seconds apart, according to the official results.

Shane came into the finish about seventy seconds later--not a bad effort for him considering his recent medical ordeal.  The Hargroder-Rex K2 came in several minutes behind Shane, and Henry Lawrence of Brandon, Mississippi, completed a very respectable effort shortly thereafter.  Phil Capel was the first non-race-boat finisher, winning the class for fast touring kayaks.  The top overall female finisher was Lauren Drummond of D'Iberville, Mississippi.  The complete results are now posted here.

I spent another night at Nick's house in Ocean Springs, and this morning I'm a bit sore in my midsection but otherwise feeling pretty good.  It appears to be a lovely day and in a little while I plan to do a nice recovery paddle before hitting the road back to Memphis.

I wasn't the only Memphian in Ocean Springs this past weekend.  Mike Womack made the trip down and took third place in the men's "K1 Fast" class.  Another Memphian present was Fred Hatler, who finished in the top third of the overall field.  Photo by Doug Heller.

Ocean Springs pre-race

Well, it's race day for the first time in 2017.  I got to Ocean Springs around 3:30 yesterday afternoon.  After checking in at the race HQ, I went down to the water and paddled for 40 minutes.

I've been paddling my old surf ski all winter while the new boat I bought last summer has sat in my garage.  So the main purpose of yesterday's paddle was to make sure everything on the new boat was adjusted the way I like it.  Once I got to feeling comfortable I did four 12-stroke sprints and worked the kinks out of my muscles from the six-hour drive.

I spent last night at the home of my friend Nick Kinderman, who is in fact the founder of the Battle On The Bayou race and served as its director for five years before handing it off to Mike Pornovets.  We're up bright and early this morning and having a bit of coffee and breakfast before heading out to the race site.  With any luck I'll have all kinds of fun stories to share here after it's all over.

Tuning up to race

Tuesday was definitely not the sort of day that beckons paddlers out onto the water.  When I got down to the riverfront it was 37 degrees Fahrenheit and overcast, with tiny snowflakes swirling around in the frigid north wind.  Fortunately my mission was a simple one: warm up do some short sprints, cool down, and go home.  And that's what I did: I paddled for 60 minutes, in the middle of which I did eight 12-stroke sprints at two-minute intervals.  As usual on a cold day, once I was in the boat paddling I felt fine; standing on the dock before and after was the not-so-pleasant part.

Yesterday I did the strength routine for the last time before this Saturday's race.  I've been doing this routine for about a month now, so next week I'll draw up a new one.

Today was supposed to warm up into the low 50s, but a busy schedule compelled me to go to the river this morning while it was still nippy.  I paddled for 50 minutes, in the middle of which I did six 12-stroke sprints at two-minute intervals.

Overall I'm feeling pretty good and I'm excited to get together with some fellow paddlers at last.  The plan is to leave mid-morning tomorrow and get to Ocean Springs in the mid afternoon.

Monday photo feature

My first race of the season is this Saturday, but fellow Memphians Joe and Carol Lee Royer already have a couple of races in the books.  They have a vacation home in the Tampa Bay area of Florida and often participate in races when they are down there.  This past weekend they teamed up for the Pickle Race on the Hillsborough River.  Photo by Linda Gerber Adams.

"Brr," sort of

It was the top story on our ever-sensational local TV news: after a long string of days with Fahrenheit temperatures in the 60s and 70s, Saturday's weather forecast called for a high of only about 45 degrees, with rain turning to a (gasp) "wintry mix" by evening.

So went the latest chapter in this very weird winter, and I confess I got caught up in the hype a little bit, inasmuch as I dreaded leaving my comfy home and subjecting myself to the hostile elements out on the river yesterday morning.

I drove downtown and braced against a penetrating northeast wind as I walked down to the marina under overcast skies.  I sought out the most protected nook I could find to shed my winter coat and don my paddling shell.  I affixed my pogies to my paddle for the first time in quite a while.  Then I got in my boat... and realized the weather was not that bad.  The wind was a pest, sure, but the air temperature was about 44 degrees.  How easily I forget that I paddled in temperatures some 25 degrees colder just two months ago.  This mostly-mild winter since then has softened me up.

I did ten 30-second sprints at three-minute intervals.  It's a workout that's been feeling good this season and I thought this would be a good time to do it again, when my confidence needed a little boost.

My cold seems to be running its course, and my back continues to feel better aside from a bit of morning stiffness.  When I returned to the river this morning it was a bit colder (39 degrees) and the wind was about the same, but the sun was shining brightly, and that always takes the chill off.  I paddled for 60 minutes, doing four 12-stroke sprints at two-minute intervals halfway through.  I plan to do something similar both Tuesday and Thursday this week in hopes of going down to Ocean Springs feeling sharp.

Pushing through the doldrums

I paddled with Joe on Tuesday, and he made an astute observation: "Sometimes when you've had a good winter of training, you start to feel a little burned out before the race season even begins."

And that's where I am at the moment.  Just a few weeks ago I was feeling great and couldn't wait until my next time in the boat.  Even my strength routines seemed fun and invigorating.  But in the last several weeks more weight has descended onto my shoulders.  Much of it has to do with my non-athletic life, with the ongoing renovation of a rental property I own and some new jobs in the workshop.  But I also have had some back soreness recently (it has improved, happily, but some morning stiffness still lingers) and this week I came down with my third cold of the winter (I'm a guy who has averaged zero to one cold per winter in the last decade or so).  This one is not as bad as the previous two, but it has impacted my energy level some.

Under normal circumstances I like to train through the early-season races, but I'm trying to get some extra rest for the race at Ocean Springs next weekend because my body needs it in general.  I skipped the usual round of the strength routine on Wednesday, and yesterday I paddled for only 40 minutes, doing four 12-stroke sprints but otherwise keeping the intensity low.  Today I'm feeling a bit more pep in my step and I did the strength routine with no trouble.  My plan between now and next Saturday is to get down to the river on my regular schedule but work on speed and keep the sessions short in duration.

Monday photo feature

Robert Nykvist snapped this photo of me during the 2013 Battle On The Bayou race down at Ocean Springs, Mississippi.  One of the things I like about this shot is the vegetation on the bank.  Ocean Springs is not the tropics, but the flora and fauna are definitely a bit different from what I'm used to some 400 miles to the north.  I'm looking forward to the change of scenery a week from this Saturday.

My annual harbor time trial

In high school I ran on the cross country team, and our program had an annual tradition: The 12 Minute Run.  Once each season the whole team would line up on the school's old 440-yard track and see how much distance each runner could cover in 12 minutes.  I think we usually did it around mid to late September, just before the season started getting more serious, as sort of a "fun" measure of our training progress.

I suppose it would have been a fairly forgettable exercise except for one thing: The Nine Lap Club.  Anybody who could cover at least nine laps in 12 minutes got his name engraved on a plaque that the coach kept in his office.  It was a small fraternity: at the time I was on the team I think there were maybe five or six names on the plaque--the best runners the school had ever had.  I badly wanted to add my name.

I had not yet succeeded going into my senior season.  When I hit the track for my final attempt I was confident that my experience and maturity would carry me through at last.  But when our coach yelled "Stop!" I was a mere 30 yards or so shy of completing that ninth lap.  I stood there in disbelief as the coach went around recording each runner's final position.

I pleaded with the coach to schedule another 12 Minute Run, but he was unyielding, albeit empathetic: "I know it's tough, and I'm sorry, but you had your one last chance," is about what he said.  And just like that, I realized my name would never be on that plaque.  It was a somewhat cruel lesson in the fact that not all goals get achieved, no matter how virtuous and hard-working the aspirer.

In the last few years I've adopted a "12-Minute Run"-like tradition in my canoe and kayak training.  Each year in March, two weekends before my first race of the year down at Ocean Springs, I time myself over a lap of the harbor.  Each time I start at the same spot at the north end and paddle down to the harbor's mouth, round an imaginary buoy in a triangulated location, and return to the north end, finishing at the same place I started.  The distance is not quite six miles; it varies a little depending on the water level, for as the water rises the insides of bends get submerged and provide a straighter path through the more sinuous parts of the harbor.

Four or five years ago I timed myself on this course at about 50 minutes, 30 seconds, and ever since then the 50-minute barrier has been an enticing goal.  But in the years since I don't think I've broken 52 minutes.  Just as I aged out of high school and could no longer take a shot at nine laps in 12 minutes, I suppose I'll eventually age out of my physical ability to break 50 minutes, or even 60 or 70 minutes.

But for the time being, I continue to try.  And today I would have the aid of something I've acquired since last year's trial: my G.P.S. device.  (Yes, I know such things have been around for quite a while now, but I'm slow to adapt to new technology.  I still use an old flip-phone.)  This morning I made the following calculation:

Who says my B.A. in mathematics is doing me no good?

I would have to average 7.2 miles per hour to cover six miles in 50 minutes.  Since the course is actually slightly shorter than that, 7.2 mph would get me across the finish line with time to spare.  "Sure, that shouldn't be a problem," I thought as I sat in the comfort of my home.

I went down to the dock, did a few stretching exercises, got in my boat, and got about a 20-minute warmup by paddling from the marina to the north end of the harbor.  I did three 8-stroke sprints and maneuvered my boat into the "starting gate" between two submerged trees.  I started my G.P.S. timer and off I went.

And I very quickly realized that 7.2 mph was too tall an order, at least for the southbound leg.  There was a south wind blowing that hadn't seemed bad when I was standing on the dock, but now that I was paddling right into it, it felt burdensome indeed.  In the early going I was working hard to maintain about 6.8 mph.

In a typical race I'm paddling in a pack with two or three or four other competitors.  At times I'll take the lead and push the pace, but at other times I'll hang back and ride another boat's wake, conserving energy in the hope of making a breakaway move later on.

A time trial is different.  Time trials hurt.  All you think about during a time trial is your goal time and the pace you must maintain to achieve that goal.  Today there were no wakes to ride; it was just me out there pushing as hard as I could for as long as I could.  Knowing that I could not manage 7.2 mph into that headwind, I tried to keep my boat moving as close to that as I could in the hope of making up the deficit with the wind at my back, while not wearing myself out completely.

But the going would get tougher the closer I got to the harbor's mouth.  In its southern reaches the harbor widens and the exposure to a south wind increases.  In the last mile or so before the turnaround I watched my speed drop down to around 6.2 mph.

I made the turn around my imaginary buoy right at the 27-minute mark.  So I was on pace for a time of 54 minutes.  Even with the wind at my back, that four-minute deficit was a lot to make up.  As I got the boat back up to speed after the turn I found myself managing 7.3 mph without too much trouble, but estimating my average speed in the first half at 6.6 mph, I knew I could not handle the 7.8 mph required to offset that.

By now I was plenty taxed and I settled into the most efficient rhythm I could.  One of the drawbacks to having a tailwind is that sweat starts to sting my eyes, and a couple of times I had to stop paddling and splash water in my face.  As I moved farther and farther north toward the finish line, my goal appearing more and more obviously beyond my reach, my motivation began to wane.  But I tried my best to hang in there, and at least finish with a time I could feel good about.

As I rounded the last bend and the finish line came into view, I realized that a sub-52 time might be possible, and I bore down for one final charge.  In the last 100 meters or so I got my speed up to 7.8 mph.  But it wasn't quite enough to break 52 minutes.  I crossed the line with a time of 52:10.  My G.P.S. device measured the total distance at 5.91 miles.

All told, I'm satisfied.  It was not an ideal day for a fast time, because of both the wind and the water level (a medium-low 11.3 feet on the Memphis gauge).  And I resisted the temptation to give up as I slogged through the last couple of miles.  Maybe I won't ever get under that 50-minute barrier, but that's not anywhere near top of my list of goals in a race season, just like that 12-Minute Run wasn't really one of my top priorities as a cross country runner.

I paddled a relaxed pace back to the marina, trying to flush some fresh blood into my muscles.  The wind seemed to be picking up and I was glad to have the time trial done.

Now it's time to recover and start thinking about racing in thirteen days.  I look forward to competing against somebody besides myself and the clock.

Trying to pull myself together

This week I got myself registered for the first race of the season, the "Battle On The Bayou" down at Ocean Springs, Mississippi.  The confirmation list includes one Mike Herbert, the three-time Olympian from Rogers, Arkansas, and he gets my nod for the role of overall favorite.  Meanwhile, it appears that the Pellerin triplets from Breaux Bridge, Louisiana, are slated to compete in their Patriot K3.  They were 3-0 against me in that configuration last year and have earned the right to be favored over me at Ocean Springs.

But there's really no point in my even thinking about such things, for I can control nobody's actions but my own.  I intend to head down to the Gulf Coast as prepared and focused as I can be, just like always.  Right now, two weeks out from race day, my greatest challenge is shaking off some physical (lower back) and mental (numerous business-related distractions) discomfort.  Getting my mind right will simply be a matter of discipline and focus, but I'm a bit concerned about the lower back woes.  They started in the aftermath of my long paddle almost two weeks ago, and a mere long hard paddle doesn't usually give me lasting back pain.  I'm wondering if I might have done something else, that I've now forgotten, that put my back out.

As of this afternoon my back does seem to be improving slowly, and I'm just trying to avoid any activities that might aggravate the condition.  I paddled for 60 minutes on both Thursday and today, and besides doing some 8-stroke sprints both days I've done a few surges but otherwise not pushed my luck.  I got in another round of the strength routine yesterday.

My lower back lowers my spirits

Most of last week was unseasonably balmy, but when I went down to the river Saturday morning a blustery cold front had just moved through and I paddled for 100 minutes in a stiff north breeze and a Fahrenheit temperature in the low 40s.

My back stiffness persisted, and I was swamped by a combination of circumstances in my out-of-the-boat life.  So it seemed like a good time to take a little break.  I usually paddle on Sunday and do my strength routine Monday, but I took both those days off.  As a competitive person I was loath to miss a single session, but my more reasonable side told me I need a mental break as well as a physical one.

I was back on the water yesterday doing my usual Tuesday paddle with Joe.  Most Tuesdays we just do a steady loop of the harbor, but this time Joe asked me to come up with a workout that we could do together.  So I gave it some thought, and here's what I dreamed up: Joe would do a 30-second forward sprint; I, meanwhile, would take four backstrokes at the start, and then sprint forward and try to catch Joe before the expiration of the 30 seconds.  I had no idea how this would work out, but it ended up being interesting and fun.  We did about ten of these sprints, and I never did quite catch Joe but I came close several times.  Most importantly, it gave me some technical food for thought.  I'd done backstrokes-then-forward-strokes drills many times before, but this competitive version forced me to think hard about how to get the best transition from going backward to going forward.  I think I got my best results when I used one really good forward stroke to stop my backward motion, followed by several quick strokes to get up to speed from rest.

Today I am still feeling a lot of discomfort in my lower back.  It didn't bother me while paddling yesterday, and it hasn't stopped me from doing any of the other things I need to do, but it's just got me feeling out of sorts and irritable.  I did do the strength routine this morning and that went well enough.