Monday photo feature

As we prepared to depart Dauphin Island Saturday morning, we had this visitor on our deck.  I was surprised how close I was able to get to snap the picture.

Post-vacation blues

It was a lovely week down on the Gulf Coast.  I got some training in, of course, but the best part was the chance to relax and escape that most pernicious first-world problem known as the daily to-do list.

Most of the paddling I do down there is in Mississippi Sound because that's what's out the back door of our rental house.  But on Thursday I decided to do something different.  I put my boat on the car and drove to the east end of Dauphin Island, and embarked on a crossing of the mouth of Mobile Bay over to Fort Morgan.

The wind was blowing from the southeast, so I was paddling mostly into the wind on the way over to Fort Morgan and would have mostly a following sea on the way back.  I tried to pace myself on the outbound leg so I would have some energy for downwind practice coming back.  The waves coming at me looked as though they would give me some good rides later.

After a short break on the beach at Fort Morgan, I began the return trip.  I did manage a few rides on the waves, but none lasted longer than a few seconds, and I had to sprint as hard as I possibly could for each one.  Not wanting to exhaust myself more than a mile offshore, I had to be very choosy about what waves to go after.  I got bolder once I was back within a quarter-mile of Dauphin Island, but again, I was expending a lot of energy for very limited rewards.

It was a sobering lesson in the kind of conditioning required for downwind races like the one I plan to attend in the Pacific Northwest in two months.  A racer spends basically the entire race doing one hard sprint after another, and if he doesn't have consistent success catching rides he will blow up (bonk).  I have a feeling a more elite-level ocean racer would have gotten much more out of those waves than I did Thursday... I remember when I was racing slalom back in the 1990s, I always got the feeling that the top racers were seeing things I was simply not able to see, and I suspect the same is true in downwind surf ski racing.

I felt tired all day Friday.  I managed to get in a round of the strength routine in the morning, but I nearly let the day go by without paddling until my nephew Ben agreed to go out with me for a little while just before suppertime.

I spent yesterday driving home.  The drive didn't seem nearly as bad as the trip down six days earlier, but in the last hour, as I penetrated the grim southeastern outskirts of Memphis, I was feeling tired and light-headed and very ready to be out of the car.  When I finally got home I made some supper, read my book for a while, and turned in early.  I thought a good night's sleep would cure my ills, but I woke up this morning continuing to feel weak and low on energy, and my head was throbbing.

I went down to the river planning to do ten one-minute sprints with two minutes recovery in between; I had my G.P.S. device and planned to shoot for 8.4 miles per hour during the sprints, as I had calculated that to be the average speed to cover my 450-meter course in the harbor in two minutes.  But as soon as I was in the boat I felt awful.  I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints, hoping that would make me feel better, but once I commenced my workout I struggled mightily to maintain 8.4 mph.  I gave it up after five sprints.

I wonder if I've come down with some sort of bug.  I don't really feel sick, but something has drained my energy.  My diet in the last week hasn't been the greatest: heavy on seafood, light on vegetables.  Whatever the case, this is frustrating because one is supposed to return from vacation feeling rested.  I may have to take it easy for a while and hope my body rights itself, and that's a hard decision to make when there are competitions in my future that will require a higher level of fitness than I've currently got.

At the beach

I spent most of Monday lying around like an absolute slug.  "Decompression," the hip people call it.  I got out of bed around 8 AM (for me, that's really sleeping in), drank some coffee, sat on our deck and gazed out over Mississippi Sound, read my book, had some lunch, took a nap...

By mid afternoon I decided I should finally grind the gears into motion a little bit, and I managed to get through a round of the strength routine.  Then I put my boat in the water and paddled easy for a half hour or so.  I actually felt better after doing these things than I'd felt before.

By yesterday I had some pep back in my step.  I got in the boat and paddled for 70 minutes.  After warming up for 10 minutes and doing three 8-stroke sprints, I embarked on a workout that I hope will get my long sprints more up to speed: ten 1-minute sprints at two-minute intervals.  By the time I started doing this workout I was out past the Dauphin Island Bridge that carries highway 193 over from the mainland.  There was enough wind to create some decent-sized waves, and a big cabin cruiser came though trailing some huge wakes of its own.  So I was doing my workout in some fairly rough conditions.  I was reminded of the differences between paddling into the waves and paddling with a "following sea"--the latter is quite a bit trickier as far as balance and control is concerned.  I definitely need to get a surf rudder for my boat before the Gorge Downwind Championships in July--I normally use a calm-water rudder.

Yesterday's workout was a premeditated, "organized" sort of thing.  I'll probably do one more such workout later this week.  For the rest of the week I have resolved to "play" in my boat and do whatever I feel like doing.  If any decent downwind conditions present themselves and I'm in a mood to get out in them, I will.  If I'm feeling tired and want to do a short, easy paddle, I will.  If any of my sister's kids wants to paddle, I'll take him or her out.

This morning I did another round of the strength routine and then went out for what I thought would be a fun "play" workout: the wind had picked up and it looked like there might be some good waves out in Mississippi Sound.  But once I was paddling away from our rental house I could tell the conditions were dying down.  I paddled maybe a mile and a half offshore and there wasn't much doing, so I turned around and went back.  Epic surf is one thing for which the Gulf Coast is not famous.

This afternoon I walked across to the Gulf side of the island and took a swim at the beach.  The aqua-therapy felt good.

Monday photo feature

Last year my nephew Ben put my deep-water rescue skills to the test when he flipped his boat in Mississippi Sound off Dauphin Island on the Alabama Gulf Coast.  In this photo we have gotten him back in the boat, and I'm holding him steady while he operates the bilge pump.

I am now back at Dauphin Island: my mother and I and my sister's family take a little vacation here each year about this time.  I arrived down here late yesterday, so today is my first full day.  I hope to do some more paddling with my sister's kids, though it'll be fine with me if we all stay upright.

A change in latitude

It was a hot weekend in Memphis, but it wasn't bad yet Saturday morning when I went downtown to paddle.  I was tired from the sprints I'd done on Friday, but I still got in three 8-stroke sprints just to work on the motor skills for paddling fast.  I spent the rest of the 60-minute session doing a steady loop out on the Mississippi.

Yesterday, instead of paddling, I drove my car.  By the end of the day I had joined my family for a little beach vacation down at Dauphin Island, Alabama.  I've probably endured more horrible drives than yesterday's in my time, but right now I can't remember any.  I'm not sure why yesterday's drive seemed so bad--there were no traffic snarls or anything like that.  I wasn't feeling all that well physically and I guess I just wanted the trip to be over.  All I know is that when I finally arrived I was one exhausted, stressed-out human being.  Oh well... now I'm down here with no particular responsibilities the rest of the week.

Time to start getting faster

By Tuesday morning my shoulder was feeling much better, and it felt fine when I paddled a loop of the harbor with Joe.  We saw one rather adorable sign of the mating season: a family of Canada geese.  An adult couple was paddling around the marina with its five newborn goslings.

I love our harbor.

It's taken me most of this week to get fully recovered from my taxing experience on the Kentucky River.  I did the strength routine on Monday, Wednesday, and today and generally tried to get back into normal training mode.

The time of year for Thursday Evening Sprints has arrived, and I was hoping to join the group out at Shelby Farms yesterday.  But stormy weather and conflicts for other participants scuttled that idea.  So today I went down to the riverfront planning to do four sprints over the 450-meter stretch of the harbor between the south edge of the monorail bridge and the south edge of the Hernando DeSoto Bridge.

After warming up and doing three 8-stroke sprints, I carried out this workout.  The recovery interval was five minutes, during which I paddled back to my starting position at the monorail bridge.

And what did I learn?  I learned that my speed needs some work.  At the peak of my form last summer I was breaking two minutes for all four of these sprints, but today my times were 2:03, 2:05, 2:06, and 2:07.  (For a full 500 meters, this would be 2:17, 2:19, 2:20, and 2:21.)  I felt a bit tense in the boat, not particularly relaxed.  And I didn't have that higher gear that I feel like I have when I'm at my best; my only gears today seemed to be Slow and Slower.

But there's no reason to mope about it.  Getting faster is a process, and as long as I stay healthy and get in some consistent workouts, I should enjoy the satisfaction of faster times in the coming weeks.

Race schedule update

So, what's next?  Well, in the month of June I have two races on the schedule and I hope to make it to at least one of them, if not both.  The one on the 2nd is only a couple of hours from me; I'd be likely to see a lot of the same people I saw this past weekend at the one on the 9th.


June
2  Batesville Canoe Race.  White River, Batesville, Arkansas.  An 8-mile up-and-back course on a Class I river.

9  Taylorsville Lake Paddle Battle.  Taylorsville Lake, Taylorsville, Kentucky.  A 10-mile flatwater race.  Register


July
7  The Lovely Laurel River Lake Paddle Blast.  Laurel River Lake, Corbin, Kentucky.  A 10-mile flatwater race.  Register

16-21  Gorge Downwind Championships.  Columbia River, Hood River, Oregon.  A race for surf skis and outrigger canoes in the legendary downwind conditions of the Columbia River Gorge.


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

9-12  U.S. Canoe Association National Championships.  Onondaga Lake and Erie Canal, Syracuse, New York.  Marathon races in a variety of boat classes sanctioned by the USCA.


September
1  Big River Regional.  Mississippi River, Baton Rouge, Louisiana.  13 miles down the largest river in North America.

8  Lower Atchafalaya Sprints.  Atchafalaya River, Patterson, Louisiana.  A series of 3-mile races on flatwater.  Register

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

29  River Rat Paddle Challenge.  Ouachita River at Monroe, Louisiana.  6.5 miles on a Class I river.

Monday photo feature

Saturday was the first time in about seven years that I had "bonked" in a race.  The previous time was at the Chicago Shoreline Marathon on Lake Michigan in August of 2011.  The photo above shows me coming into the finish, at which time I had perked up enough to take a few good strokes and look respectable.  But I'm in some serious agony.

Racing in Bluegrass country

By Friday morning my back was feeling better and I was starting to get focused on racing.  I left home a little after 9 AM CDT and headed east through Nashville, Bowling Green, Glasgow, Somerset, Richmond.  The drive took longer than I thought it would, and I lost an hour when I crossed into Eastern Time.  And I was unfamiliar with my destination in the region south and east of Lexington, Kentucky.  So I didn't manage to get in a pre-race paddle like I prefer to do.  I'm a regimented creature of habit and it gnawed at me a little, but I tried to reassure myself that my performance the next day wouldn't be ruined.

It was getting on toward six o'clock when I arrived at Fort Boonesborough State Park, the site of the race start.  I managed to locate Scott Cummins, Elaine Harold, and Lee Droppelman, all of Louisville, with whom I would be sharing a campsite in the park.  Once I'd pitched my tent we went to the pre-race supper at a nearby restaurant called Halls On The River.  By this time I was hungry enough to eat a horse, but I settled for a plate of catfish with hushpuppies and french fries.  A few hours later I would wake up in my tent with some queasiness from all that fried food, but the feeling passed.

By Saturday morning a fifth person had joined our camp: Erik Borgnes of Stevens Point, Wisconsin.  I had never met Erik in person but was familiar with his list of impressive victories in high-profile events.  He told me he was a regular reader of this blog, and that was as big an honor as any I could possibly earn with my performance in the race.

We had to get our boats and gear in order quickly so that we could drive our vehicles down to the finish and catch the shuttle bus back up to the start.  It's always one of the race-day challenges, making sure I pay proper attention to breakfast, hydration, bodily functions, stretching, and race prep while conforming to other people's schedules.

Finally we were back at the start and ready to go.  The Bluegrass River Run featured a couple of competitions on the Kentucky River: Scott, Lee, Erik, and I would be racing down to the Valley View ferry, a distance of about 19 miles.  Elaine was entered in the six-mile race, which also started at the state park but finished at a riverside restaurant called Proud Mary's beneath the Interstate 75 bridge.

After a few pre-race words from director Gerry James (also a reader of this blog, I was thrilled to learn), we put our boats on the water and got started promptly at 9:30 EDT.  Scott, Lee, Erik, and I separated ourselves from the field and spent the early miles in a four-boat pack.  The pace seemed comfortable to me, but I had to assess whether it was something I could sustain for the entire race, and this is where my unfamiliarity with the river and the race was a handicap.  The best information I had was that Scott had won last year's race in about two and a half hours.  I don't normally like to use a G.P.S. device while I'm racing, but this time it might have been helpful to know how far along the course I was and how fast I was getting there... those who snicker at me for being such a Luddite would have had some justification Saturday.

The pace seemed comfortable, like I said, but Lee provided the first clue that it was a little quick when he dropped off our pack several miles in.  He remarked after the race that we were "flying."

Scott and Erik and I continued along, trading off the lead.  I tried to get all the rest I could while riding their wakes.  Scott and I both kept a wary eye on Erik, the most accomplished athlete among us: sooner or later, we figured, he was likely to make his move and break away.  Then again, up in Wisconsin the water freezes over during the winter and there was no telling what kind of paddling shape he was in.  Erik does have a reputation for staying fit, however.

So there was much to think about as we carried our three-boat chess match down the river.  I tried my best to limit my worries to my own self.  With four or five trips around the Loosahatchie Bar under my belt this season, I told myself to have faith in the work I'd done.

We passed Proud Mary's at the 47-minute mark.  Our long-time racing friend Chris Hipgrave was entered in the 6-mile race and we agreed that we should haze him without mercy if he didn't break 47 minutes.

Erik seemed to make a little bit of a move around 1:15 or 1:20--just a subtle push in the pace as he took the lead.  But Scott and I covered the move and we continued as a three-boat pack.  By the 1:30 mark I was starting to feel some serious fatigue set in, and again I wondered how much race was left: 45 minutes?  an hour?  I don't think we were getting much help from the current: my guess is it was moving between 1 and 2 miles per hour, maximum.

At about 1:50, the other shoe finally dropped: with a sudden flurry of strokes, Erik began to break away from Scott and me.  I made a feeble attempt to give chase but I knew within seconds I didn't have it in me.  Scott went after Erik as well, and stayed with him for perhaps 30 seconds before he got dropped.

As the gap widened between Erik and Scott, I hung several waves back of Scott's stern with the hope of reeling him back in.  But my body had had about enough and was shutting down on me.  In other words, I bonked.  My glycogen stores depleted, simply putting my body through the motions of paddling was suddenly excruciating.  I sat there and watched as Scott pulled away from me and Erik pulled away from Scott.  In a matter of minutes our tight, cozy, spirited little pack became strung out over at least a full kilometer.

The last 40 minutes of my race were pretty miserable.  When I've bonked I tend to start wallowing in self-pity and wondering just how pathetic my result will be.  During one of my breaks from paddling I looked upriver and could see Lee's boat three or four minutes back, and knew the possibility of him running me down to take third place was real.  The Fahrenheit temperature had moved above 80 degrees and with low humidity the heat was deceptive.  Several times in the final ten minutes I dipped my hat in the water and put it back on my head.

Erik extended his lead and crossed the finish line at Valley View in two hours, 25 minutes, 28 seconds.  I don't think Scott was feeling much better than I was but he held on for a respectable second-place finish in 2:29:34.  Somehow I managed to stay in third even though I was doing little more than floating with the current.  My time was 2:32:01.  Lee had indeed narrowed the gap on me and finished just 103 seconds back in 2:33:44.  Michael Alexeev rounded out the top five in 2:36:07.  Dan Mecklenburg and Debbie Brax paddled their USCA "pro boat" C2 across the line in 2:38:37.

Chris Hipgrave, a resident of Bryson City, North Carolina, saved himself a lot of grief from us by finishing the 6-mile race comfortably under 47 minutes, clocking 44:49.  Elaine Harold was the fastest female and claimed second place overall in 53:16.  The complete results are posted here.  (Once you've clicked on this link, you have to click on "Results" at the top of the page, and then select the race you want from the "Select an event" menu.)

Somehow I found the energy to carry my boat up to the car and change into dry clothes.  I drank some water and began the transition back into normal human existence.  We all drove back to Proud Mary's for the post-race party and were served some yummy jambalaya and green beans.  I accepted my third-place trophy in good spirits and began the long drive back to Memphis.

I was sore from head to toe, and that was no big surprise.  But during the drive I also noticed some sharp pain in my left shoulder, in the deltoid area.  The pain was still present when I woke up yesterday morning, and when I went down to the river to paddle it bothered me enough that I stopped after just 20 low-intensity minutes.  It's feeling slightly better this morning and I hope it's nothing more than a strain that will get better if I treat it with care for the next few days.

The weekend's race turned out to be a bit longer than I care to do, but there's no reason to regret the experience.  The Kentucky River is a beautiful place and I'm grateful to the organizers for realizing it was a worthwhile venue for racing.

Changing seasons and an ailing back

I do believe the weather has shifted toward summer for good.  Slowly but surely I'm moving into my summertime routines.  Lately it's been warm enough for me to paddle in shorts and a short-sleeved shirt; I'll probably give it another week or so to be sure, but soon I'll be going through the annual ritual of washing my cold-weather gear and putting it away until next winter.  Wearing less clothing in the boat means putting on more sunscreen, and since I hate having that greasy stuff all over me I usually wash it off under the water spigot after I paddle.  I'll be enjoying those cool baths on the dock more and more as we get deeper into the summer.  As the mercury rises I'll have to start thinking about in-the-boat hydration during training sessions.

The riverfront is teeming with signs of the season.  The purple martins are in residence at the marina's birdhouse; the turtles are sunning themselves on floating logs; the gar are hanging out an inch below the harbor's surface; cottonwood blooms are everywhere.

On Tuesday morning I did the strength routine for the last time before this Saturday's race, and then I paddled with Joe in the harbor.  Tuesday afternoon I somehow tweaked my back while working at my rental property: I can't remember any specific thing that caused it, but at some point I noticed that my lower-left back area was very sore and uncomfortable.  It felt awful when I woke up yesterday morning and was a mood-dampening companion all day.

By this morning it had improved some but the discomfort lingered.  Fortunately it didn't bother me much when I got in the boat and started paddling.  I paddled for 60 minutes and did a set of six 12-stroke sprints.  I felt as good as I have in a long time while sprinting: my turnover seemed easier and more fluid.

I'd already had an appointment scheduled with the chiropractor who has helped me out a lot with the plantar fasciitis I've had.  I told her about the back discomfort and she worked on that area.  Let's hope it runs its course before I line up to race on Saturday.

Monday photo feature

A guy named Mark Richards has been posting some photos he's taken of slalom racing in his native Great Britain over the years.  Here's one he took when Nottingham hosted the world championships in 1995.  Davey Hearn of the United States (left) celebrates his victory in the C1 class with U.S. team chiropractor Rick DiCarlo.

Smokin', but not in a good way

I went down to the river yesterday morning under overcast skies.  There was very little wind and the Fahrenheit temperature was in the low 70s.  After warming up and doing three 8-stroke sprints in the harbor, I paddled out onto the Mississippi and saw a barge rig coming downriver.  Downstream-bound towboats usually generate smaller wakes than upstream-bound ones, but this one must have been running behind schedule because its wake was huge.  I fell in behind it hoping for some epic surf, but I was reminded that bigger is not always better: I'm no expert on wave dynamics, but something about the shape of these waves made it hard for me to get much of a ride at all.  I followed the vessel down just below the Memphis-Arkansas Bridge and then gave it up.  I paddled back upriver along the Tennessee bank at a strong tempo and got back to the dock just in time to make it a 60-minute session.

I did a round of the strength routine this morning.  I normally would do it tomorrow but I have some things to do tomorrow that might not leave me enough time.

After lunch I headed down to the river and paddled for 80 minutes.  With a race coming up Saturday I did some speed-polishing with a set of eight 12-stroke sprints.  Then I ferried across the river and looped through the lower reaches of the Loosahatchie Chute before returning to the harbor.  The weather was quite lovely--sunny skies and a temperature in the mid 70s--but it was not a "chamber of commerce" day because of a big fire at a metal-recycling yard not far from my marina.  Thick smoke billowed from the facility and a haze covered the entire Memphis riverfront area.  As I paddled along breathing the polluted air, all I could think about was the ravaged health of all those World Trade Center first-responders.

Week in review

I have made my decision of what race to attend on May 12: I'll be going to the region southeast of Lexington, Kentucky, for the Bluegrass River Run, a 19-mile race on the Kentucky River.  It appears there will be some good competition there, and I'm looking forward to visiting a place where I've never raced before.  I'm sorry to be missing the Osage Spring 12 event up near Jefferson City, Missouri; I raced there last year and had a great time, and I hope to return there in the future.

I did a cursory round of my new strength routine on Monday, then did full rounds Wednesday and today.

In the boat I paddled for 60 minutes both Tuesday and yesterday.  They were fairly typical sessions for me--steady paddles with some surges.

A new strength routine

Because of my family's annual beach trip later this month, this routine consists of "portable" exercises.  Two of them are simple body-weight exercises, and I use my rubber bands for the other three.

1.  Rubber band exercise demonstrated by Daniele Molmenti at 5:44 of this video

2.  Lateral abdominal exercises demonstrated by Michele Ramazza at 3:52 of this video

3.  Standing rubber band exercise similar to dumbbell flies

4.  "Superman" back ups

5.  "Pre-Hab" rubber band exercises (both inside and outside moves) demonstrated by Daniele Molmenti at 8:30 of this video