This trip is starting to feel like a reservoir tour.
There is certainly no shortage of reservoirs to choose from, for our nation spent much of the previous century on a veritable drunken spree of dam building. During the first half of this vacation trip I visited Percy Priest, James, Mountain Island, Norman, and Fontana.
When I fled the rain in the mountains Monday I ended up camping at Rock Island State Park, located on a spit of land curiously nestled in between two reservoirs, Great Falls and Center Hill. I first visited this area in the mid 1980s with a summer camp friend whose family owned a cabin on the Collins River, one of the rivers impounded to create Great Falls Reservoir. I immediately found it to be an exceptionally picturesque place: with its rivers and steel-truss bridges and railroad line it reminded me of Hardy, Arkansas, where my family had taken summer trips when I was little. The area was also a haven for lovers of water-sports of all kinds: during the visit I did some water-skiing with my friend's family--that's an obvious thing to do on a reservoir--but we also got to paddle some whitewater!
Great Falls Dam is one of the more interesting dam projects I've ever seen. It was constructed right at the confluence of the Collins and Caney Fork Rivers, at the top of a series of waterfalls. The pool elevation of the resulting reservoir allows water to be dropped through a pipe into a powerhouse at the bottom of the falls. One sad result of the dam is that the falls are dewatered much of the time, but down below the powerhouse is a short stretch of whitewater that includes a couple of world-class playspots before it peters out into Center Hill Reservoir. That's where my camp friend and I had some fun during that mid-80s visit.
This week I had nothing but my surf ski on the car, so I stuck to the flatwater up above the dam. Tuesday morning I put in at a public access on the Collins River and paddled for 80 minutes, going past the dam and a mile or two up the Caney Fork before turning around and going back to where I'd put in. While on the water I did a set of eight 12-stroke sprints at two-minute intervals.
With the important business of paddling out of the way it was time to make another step toward the Midwest. I set my sights toward another reservoir, Lake Barkley in southwestern Kentucky. Several hours later I was setting up camp at a place called Eureka Campground, as in "Eureka! This place is actually nice!" It's a U.S. Army Corps of Engineers campground, you see, and Corps campgrounds, while offering all the amenities one could want, like showers and flush-toilets and playgrounds and stuff, tend to be sterile industrial/institutional places. The fact that Eureka is located next to Barkley Dam led me to expect lots of concrete poured over terrain that had been bulldozed into submission.
What I found instead was as nice a developed campground as I've ever seen. My campsite was on a wooded hillside a short walk from the water's edge. The place was certainly landscaped, but tastefully so, like a nice backyard in an established neighborhood or something like that. It didn't hurt that the weather was gorgeous. I consider the Land Between the Lakes area to be in the same part of the country as Memphis, more or less, but there was no hint of the sweltering weather we endured there for most of last month. The sky was clear and the air was cool and crisp, almost like a beautiful day in October. My camping gear was still damp from the soggy places I'd stayed the previous two nights and I was grateful for a chance to get it all dried out for good.
On Wednesday morning I paddled for 70 minutes out on Lake Barkley. My intensity level ranged from easy to the hard side of medium, and I did a set of six 12-stroke sprints in the middle of the session.
By now my goal was to arrive up in Dubuque Friday, so I got out my map and looked for another reservoir along the route. I decided on Carlyle Reservoir, located in south central Illinois just outside a town called (suitably enough) Carlyle. Once there I found myself camping lakeside in another Corps of Engineers campground. This one wasn't as nice as the one at Lake Barkley, but it wasn't bad. Most important was that it had adequate shade. The campground was quite a bit more crowded with RVs than the one at Barkley, but the people seemed nice and reasonably quiet.
I woke up yesterday morning and made myself some breakfast and then got in my boat for a 60-minute paddle. I did four 12-stroke sprints while I was out there.
Once that was over I embarked on the longest stretch of driving for this North-Carolina-to-Iowa leg of the trip: about four and a half hours. I made it to the Quad Cities region (Rock Island and Moline, Illinois, and Davenport and Bettendorf, Iowa) and decided to spring for a motel, whose wi-fi service is allowing me to deliver all this news to you. My body is ready for a break from paddling and I plan to spend today making what looks like a scenic drive along the Mississippi River up to Dubuque.
When I began this trip the North-Carolina-to-Iowa leg looked to be the most arduous, but spreading it out over five days, combined with the still-lovely weather, has made it rather delightful. Yesterday was the only time the driving began to feel like a chore; otherwise I've had the freedom to take my time, drive some secondary roads, take in the sights... all the things you ideally would like to do during a trip across our great nation.
Tomorrow I'll do a short paddle just to get my body loose. My class, "K1 Unlimited," races on Sunday morning. Chances are I won't be back online until Sunday night, when I check into a motel during the long trip home.
Friday, August 11, 2017
Thursday, August 10, 2017
Washed out of the mountains
I'm online for the first time since Monday morning, so it's time to catch up on what's been happening this week. On Sunday I went and did my typical paddle for the day after a race: an easy 60 minutes on Fontana Reservoir.
In the early 1940s the Tennessee Valley Authority built Fontana Dam on the Little Tennessee River a few miles above where it flows from North Carolina into Tennessee. The result is Fontana Reservoir, and if you look at this body of water on a map you'll see that it's not the sort of vast expanse we're used to in my part of the country. Here in this mountainous terrain the impoundment backs up into all the many tributary watersheds, creating hundreds of fingers and tentacles. A paddler (or any other boater) can easily get lost in the maze. As I paddled on Sunday I had to make myself stop from time to time, and turn around to study where I'd come from. As you can gather from reading this post, I have made it back to tell the tale.
With an entire week before my final race on this trip--the USCA Nationals up at Dubuque, Iowa--I had no particular itinerary for the early part of this week, and I considered spending another day or two in the mountains. But Sunday evening some heavy rain moved into the area and chased me into my tent early, and it was still pouring down when I woke up the next morning. There's nothing like some inclement weather to make one desire a change of scenery. I quickly broke camp during a moment when the rain had slowed to a drizzle, and headed west. Surely, I thought, the storm system and I would eventually part company as I drove.
It appeared that we'd done so by the time I was in middle Tennessee, and I made camp in Rock Island State Park east of McMinnville. But no sooner did I clip the last corner of my tent's fly in place than the rain came back with a vengeance. I dove into the tent and sat forlornly as the drops hammered overhead. The rain finally ended as darkness fell, but by then there wasn't much to do but hit the hay and hope my soggy environs would begin to dry out the next day.
I'll tell you some more later.
In the early 1940s the Tennessee Valley Authority built Fontana Dam on the Little Tennessee River a few miles above where it flows from North Carolina into Tennessee. The result is Fontana Reservoir, and if you look at this body of water on a map you'll see that it's not the sort of vast expanse we're used to in my part of the country. Here in this mountainous terrain the impoundment backs up into all the many tributary watersheds, creating hundreds of fingers and tentacles. A paddler (or any other boater) can easily get lost in the maze. As I paddled on Sunday I had to make myself stop from time to time, and turn around to study where I'd come from. As you can gather from reading this post, I have made it back to tell the tale.
With an entire week before my final race on this trip--the USCA Nationals up at Dubuque, Iowa--I had no particular itinerary for the early part of this week, and I considered spending another day or two in the mountains. But Sunday evening some heavy rain moved into the area and chased me into my tent early, and it was still pouring down when I woke up the next morning. There's nothing like some inclement weather to make one desire a change of scenery. I quickly broke camp during a moment when the rain had slowed to a drizzle, and headed west. Surely, I thought, the storm system and I would eventually part company as I drove.
It appeared that we'd done so by the time I was in middle Tennessee, and I made camp in Rock Island State Park east of McMinnville. But no sooner did I clip the last corner of my tent's fly in place than the rain came back with a vengeance. I dove into the tent and sat forlornly as the drops hammered overhead. The rain finally ended as darkness fell, but by then there wasn't much to do but hit the hay and hope my soggy environs would begin to dry out the next day.
I'll tell you some more later.
Monday, August 7, 2017
Monday photo feature
After Saturday's race, the winner of each age group in each boat class was awarded a one-quart growler of beer from a local brewery. The runner-up got a pint glass, and the third-place finisher got a shot glass. The unspoken assumption was that the winner would share his beer with his fellow medalists.
I was second in the 18-49 age group of the kayak race boat class, so I got the pint glass. But the winner didn't seem inclined to share. Fortunately I found a more generous spirit in the person of overall female winner Lindsey O'Shea. And the beer she'd been given wasn't too hoppy, so everything turned out great indeed.
Photo by Blake Gray.
Sunday, August 6, 2017
Racing in the mountains
I made it over to the greater Bryson City area Thursday evening and set up housekeeping at the campground for the Tsali mountain bike trail complex. The six-mile Paddle Grapple race would take place Saturday morning just down the road near where Lemmons Branch flows into Fontana Reservoir.
Saturday morning arrived soon enough, and when I got down to the race site the parking lot was teeming with vehicles bearing boats. Some 100 athletes in all had entered to race in numerous boat classes. My own class, "K1 High Performance" for surf skis, flatwater K1s, and the like, was pretty loaded. The most "elite" paddler entered was Morgan House of Gainesville, Georgia, a fixture on the U.S. flatwater team a decade ago who would have gone to the Olympics once or twice if not for the IOC's stingy cap on the number of athletes allowed to compete in our under-appreciated sport.
He was the least of my worries as I looked around the parking lot and saw at least ten paddlers all of whom I could beat or all of whom could beat me. As soon as race director Chris Hipgrave concluded the competitors' meeting, we walked down to the water and got in our boats to see how it would all shake out.
In the race's early stages I might have been in tenth or fifteenth place overall. Morgan House went out fast as expected, as did the boat considered most likely to beat House, a tandem surf ski paddled by Chris Hipgrave and Bruce Poacher. Many other boats went out fast as well--too fast, in the case of some of them.
My plan was similar to what it had been in last year's race: work my way up in the pack until I found the fastest paddlers I could possibly hang with, and try to stay there. With so many paddlers in front of me I had to paddle in confused waters, and that took a lot of energy and concentration. Little by little I moved up, while some of the overenthusiastic starters began to drop back. In the first 2000 meters or so I saw many familiar competitors: Rick Carter of Eutawville, South Carolina; Joseph DiChiacchio of Rising Fawn, Georgia; Scott Cummins (my nemesis in Nashville last week) of Louisville, Kentucky; Cory Hall of Chattanooga, Tennessee.
Up ahead were Pete Greene of Beaufort, South Carolina, and Terry Smith of Chattanooga, and I knew that if I could get on their wakes I would have a good chance to distance myself from the rest of the field. For what seemed like an eternity I sat on the second wake back from them; at least four or five times I tried to sprint up and over the crest of that first wake, but to no avail. After each attempt I had to sit back and catch my breath. Finally, digging in as hard as I could, I attained that first wake, and I hoped I would have enough energy to stay competitive for the remaining 70% or so of the race after expending all that energy.
The six-mile race would take us through two laps of a three-mile loop. I settled in behind Pete and Terry and as we moved into the second half of that first lap, the competition finally began to take shape. Poacher/Hipgrave and House were far enough out in front that it was hard to tell what was happening up there. Sven Jonsson of Brevard, North Carolina, and Kurt Smithgall of Montoursville, Pennsylvania, paddled side-by-side in third and fourth place just a couple of boat lengths ahead of Pete and Terry and me. I figured people like Scott Cummins and Rick Carter couldn't be too far back.
We worked our way back into the cove where the race had started as the leaders were making the buoy turn to begin the second lap. Poacher/Hipgrave appeared to have a lead of four or five boatlengths on House. A minute or so later Sven and Kurt reached the buoy, and Sven, whose flatwater K1 is capable of tighter turns than Kurt's surf ski, opened a gap. Pete and Terry and I were in single file as we approached the buoy, and that had not changed once we had rounded the buoy. As we embarked on the second lap I estimated that Scott Cummins was maybe 30 seconds behind us as he approached the buoy.
My priority now was to maintain contact with Pete and Terry while conserving as much energy as I could. As the course looped around a big island our pack reeled in Kurt, a former U.S. wildwater team member whose torrid first-lap pace seemed to be catching up to him. By the time we had rounded the island we had overtaken Kurt, and I experienced a feeling of deja vu as I evaluated my position: in last year's race Sven had held second place behind a distant leader, while Pete and Terry and I had worked as a pack to close the gap.
This time that gap wasn't closing at all, as Sven had pulled away a bit after the buoy turn. Pete and Terry and I continued along in single file and I was pretty sure we were racing for fourth place overall. With around 1500 meters to go I moved up onto Terry's left-side wake, hoping to improve my position for the final sprint to the finish. Terry responded by moving up onto Pete's right-side wake, and I realized that the move I'd just made might be the last thing I had in me. My arms and shoulders starting to throb, I dropped back behind my two competitors and tried to hang on as the course wound its way back into the cove where the finish line awaited.
By this time the team of Poacher and Hipgrave was bringing home the overall win, with Morgan House comfortably taking first among single paddlers. Sven cruised to the finish in sole possession of third place overall. Our pack was next, and with 400 meters to go Terry had grabbed the lead with Pete trying to hold his side wake and a chance to sprint by him in the final meters. I continued to fight to maintain contact, feeling beleaguered but ever hopeful of a stroke of luck. With 50 meters left, Terry threw down a devastating surge and opened a little gap, earning himself fourth place. I made a brave final attempt, but Pete's lead on me was too solid.
And that's when I got my stroke of luck: the actual finish line lay some ten meters beyond the line we had started from. Chris had mentioned this fact during the pre-race meeting, but one could argue that he had not stated it as emphatically as he should have. And the line was marked with a single traffic cone at the water's edge; a pair of large bright-colored buoys and a big banner saying something like "The finish line is RIGHT HERE!!!!!!!!!" probably would have been more appropriate.
The upshot is that while I had heard what Chris said during the meeting (I'm a good little boy who always pays attention, after all), it had escaped Terry and Pete's notice. Both of them stopped paddling once they had crossed the line we had started from. Spectators on the bank shouted at them to keep going until they had passed the cone, but they didn't realize what was going on until I had slipped by Pete. And so the official finish order was Terry in fourth, me in fifth, and Pete in sixth.
For me it was sort of a bland victory, for Pete had definitely had me beat. He accepted the result with his usual sportsmanship and good humor. Fortunately, the result had no impact on who got what during the awards ceremony because Pete and I were entered in different age groups (Pete is in his 50s, while my 50th birthday is still three weeks away). For his part, Chris acknowledged that he hadn't made the finish line location as clear as he should have and promised to do better next year.
As of this writing the complete results have not been posted; I will link to them whenever they get put up. I do know that the top overall female finisher was Lindsey O'Shea of Gainesville, Georgia. I'm still sort of processing the whole event in my head and I'll probably have some more insights to share later.
Saturday morning arrived soon enough, and when I got down to the race site the parking lot was teeming with vehicles bearing boats. Some 100 athletes in all had entered to race in numerous boat classes. My own class, "K1 High Performance" for surf skis, flatwater K1s, and the like, was pretty loaded. The most "elite" paddler entered was Morgan House of Gainesville, Georgia, a fixture on the U.S. flatwater team a decade ago who would have gone to the Olympics once or twice if not for the IOC's stingy cap on the number of athletes allowed to compete in our under-appreciated sport.
He was the least of my worries as I looked around the parking lot and saw at least ten paddlers all of whom I could beat or all of whom could beat me. As soon as race director Chris Hipgrave concluded the competitors' meeting, we walked down to the water and got in our boats to see how it would all shake out.
In the race's early stages I might have been in tenth or fifteenth place overall. Morgan House went out fast as expected, as did the boat considered most likely to beat House, a tandem surf ski paddled by Chris Hipgrave and Bruce Poacher. Many other boats went out fast as well--too fast, in the case of some of them.
My plan was similar to what it had been in last year's race: work my way up in the pack until I found the fastest paddlers I could possibly hang with, and try to stay there. With so many paddlers in front of me I had to paddle in confused waters, and that took a lot of energy and concentration. Little by little I moved up, while some of the overenthusiastic starters began to drop back. In the first 2000 meters or so I saw many familiar competitors: Rick Carter of Eutawville, South Carolina; Joseph DiChiacchio of Rising Fawn, Georgia; Scott Cummins (my nemesis in Nashville last week) of Louisville, Kentucky; Cory Hall of Chattanooga, Tennessee.
Up ahead were Pete Greene of Beaufort, South Carolina, and Terry Smith of Chattanooga, and I knew that if I could get on their wakes I would have a good chance to distance myself from the rest of the field. For what seemed like an eternity I sat on the second wake back from them; at least four or five times I tried to sprint up and over the crest of that first wake, but to no avail. After each attempt I had to sit back and catch my breath. Finally, digging in as hard as I could, I attained that first wake, and I hoped I would have enough energy to stay competitive for the remaining 70% or so of the race after expending all that energy.
The six-mile race would take us through two laps of a three-mile loop. I settled in behind Pete and Terry and as we moved into the second half of that first lap, the competition finally began to take shape. Poacher/Hipgrave and House were far enough out in front that it was hard to tell what was happening up there. Sven Jonsson of Brevard, North Carolina, and Kurt Smithgall of Montoursville, Pennsylvania, paddled side-by-side in third and fourth place just a couple of boat lengths ahead of Pete and Terry and me. I figured people like Scott Cummins and Rick Carter couldn't be too far back.
We worked our way back into the cove where the race had started as the leaders were making the buoy turn to begin the second lap. Poacher/Hipgrave appeared to have a lead of four or five boatlengths on House. A minute or so later Sven and Kurt reached the buoy, and Sven, whose flatwater K1 is capable of tighter turns than Kurt's surf ski, opened a gap. Pete and Terry and I were in single file as we approached the buoy, and that had not changed once we had rounded the buoy. As we embarked on the second lap I estimated that Scott Cummins was maybe 30 seconds behind us as he approached the buoy.
My priority now was to maintain contact with Pete and Terry while conserving as much energy as I could. As the course looped around a big island our pack reeled in Kurt, a former U.S. wildwater team member whose torrid first-lap pace seemed to be catching up to him. By the time we had rounded the island we had overtaken Kurt, and I experienced a feeling of deja vu as I evaluated my position: in last year's race Sven had held second place behind a distant leader, while Pete and Terry and I had worked as a pack to close the gap.
This time that gap wasn't closing at all, as Sven had pulled away a bit after the buoy turn. Pete and Terry and I continued along in single file and I was pretty sure we were racing for fourth place overall. With around 1500 meters to go I moved up onto Terry's left-side wake, hoping to improve my position for the final sprint to the finish. Terry responded by moving up onto Pete's right-side wake, and I realized that the move I'd just made might be the last thing I had in me. My arms and shoulders starting to throb, I dropped back behind my two competitors and tried to hang on as the course wound its way back into the cove where the finish line awaited.
By this time the team of Poacher and Hipgrave was bringing home the overall win, with Morgan House comfortably taking first among single paddlers. Sven cruised to the finish in sole possession of third place overall. Our pack was next, and with 400 meters to go Terry had grabbed the lead with Pete trying to hold his side wake and a chance to sprint by him in the final meters. I continued to fight to maintain contact, feeling beleaguered but ever hopeful of a stroke of luck. With 50 meters left, Terry threw down a devastating surge and opened a little gap, earning himself fourth place. I made a brave final attempt, but Pete's lead on me was too solid.
And that's when I got my stroke of luck: the actual finish line lay some ten meters beyond the line we had started from. Chris had mentioned this fact during the pre-race meeting, but one could argue that he had not stated it as emphatically as he should have. And the line was marked with a single traffic cone at the water's edge; a pair of large bright-colored buoys and a big banner saying something like "The finish line is RIGHT HERE!!!!!!!!!" probably would have been more appropriate.
The upshot is that while I had heard what Chris said during the meeting (I'm a good little boy who always pays attention, after all), it had escaped Terry and Pete's notice. Both of them stopped paddling once they had crossed the line we had started from. Spectators on the bank shouted at them to keep going until they had passed the cone, but they didn't realize what was going on until I had slipped by Pete. And so the official finish order was Terry in fourth, me in fifth, and Pete in sixth.
For me it was sort of a bland victory, for Pete had definitely had me beat. He accepted the result with his usual sportsmanship and good humor. Fortunately, the result had no impact on who got what during the awards ceremony because Pete and I were entered in different age groups (Pete is in his 50s, while my 50th birthday is still three weeks away). For his part, Chris acknowledged that he hadn't made the finish line location as clear as he should have and promised to do better next year.
As of this writing the complete results have not been posted; I will link to them whenever they get put up. I do know that the top overall female finisher was Lindsey O'Shea of Gainesville, Georgia. I'm still sort of processing the whole event in my head and I'll probably have some more insights to share later.
Wednesday, August 2, 2017
Dammed-up water
I spent Monday lying around my sister's house like an absolute slug. It was just what I needed after all the drama of getting out of town and competing in a race and driving and visiting friends.
Yesterday and today I sampled a couple more of the reservoir offerings in the Catawba River basin. Yesterday I went out to Mountain Island Lake, a smallish reservoir off North Carolina 16. When I got there around 10 AM there was no motorized traffic at all and the water was as placid as could be. I went out for a 60-minute paddle, during which I did eight 12-stroke sprints at two-minute intervals. Like I've said before, there are days when these sprints feel fluid and effortless, but yesterday they felt sort of sloppy. But then when I settled back into my normal cruising pace for the last 20 minutes, my form felt good. I think simply trying to do all the right things at a high intensity level helps them come more naturally at a normal intensity level.
Today I went to Lake Norman, the next reservoir upriver from Mountain Island Lake. Lake Norman is a much bigger, more industrial-strength kind of place. At the public access where I put in there was a sign posted explaining the lake evacuation protocol in the event of an emergency at the nearby McGuire Nuclear Station. Another sign gave a phone number to call and report suspicious persons. Out on the lake the motorized traffic wasn't too bad, but it was heavy enough for a Tuesday afternoon that I imagine it's ridiculous on summer weekends. The shorelines were teeming with shiny McMansions. It's The Great Outdoors, 21st-century style. I think I'll stick to the harbor at home.
I did another 60-minute paddle with six 12-strokers in the middle. For some reason I felt tired in the boat; I'm not sure why because I've been sleeping well and generally having a restful time these last several days. I hope I'll have more pep in my step by Saturday.
Lake Norman's water is quite warm, possibly because both the nuclear station and the Marshall Steam Station use it for cooling. When I finished paddling I hopped in the water and enjoyed a therapeutic soak for a few minutes.
I plan to head back west tomorrow ahead of Saturday's race on Fontana Reservoir near Bryson City. I'll be camping in that area and might not be online to post here for several days. The race information page is here, and I hope results will be posted by Saturday evening.
Yesterday and today I sampled a couple more of the reservoir offerings in the Catawba River basin. Yesterday I went out to Mountain Island Lake, a smallish reservoir off North Carolina 16. When I got there around 10 AM there was no motorized traffic at all and the water was as placid as could be. I went out for a 60-minute paddle, during which I did eight 12-stroke sprints at two-minute intervals. Like I've said before, there are days when these sprints feel fluid and effortless, but yesterday they felt sort of sloppy. But then when I settled back into my normal cruising pace for the last 20 minutes, my form felt good. I think simply trying to do all the right things at a high intensity level helps them come more naturally at a normal intensity level.
Today I went to Lake Norman, the next reservoir upriver from Mountain Island Lake. Lake Norman is a much bigger, more industrial-strength kind of place. At the public access where I put in there was a sign posted explaining the lake evacuation protocol in the event of an emergency at the nearby McGuire Nuclear Station. Another sign gave a phone number to call and report suspicious persons. Out on the lake the motorized traffic wasn't too bad, but it was heavy enough for a Tuesday afternoon that I imagine it's ridiculous on summer weekends. The shorelines were teeming with shiny McMansions. It's The Great Outdoors, 21st-century style. I think I'll stick to the harbor at home.
I did another 60-minute paddle with six 12-strokers in the middle. For some reason I felt tired in the boat; I'm not sure why because I've been sleeping well and generally having a restful time these last several days. I hope I'll have more pep in my step by Saturday.
Lake Norman's water is quite warm, possibly because both the nuclear station and the Marshall Steam Station use it for cooling. When I finished paddling I hopped in the water and enjoyed a therapeutic soak for a few minutes.
I plan to head back west tomorrow ahead of Saturday's race on Fontana Reservoir near Bryson City. I'll be camping in that area and might not be online to post here for several days. The race information page is here, and I hope results will be posted by Saturday evening.
Monday, July 31, 2017
Monday photo feature
Scott Cummins, the winner of Saturday's Music City SUP (and Kayak) Race, stands atop the podium with third-place finisher Ted Burnell to his left.
Where's the runner-up? I was on the road headed east. I'd been invited to a pot-luck dinner in North Carolina, and with the time zones working against me, I was concerned about making it there on time. Now I feel bad because I generally believe a medalist should stick around to be recognized.
Oh well... I have a feeling there will be more opportunities to race with both these gentlemen. I'll try to give the podium the respect it deserves then, whether I'm standing on it myself or standing among the applauding onlookers.
Photo by Mike Alan.
First weekend of vacation, Part C: Moving on to the mountains
I had to hit the road promptly after the race Saturday. I'd promised some friends in North Carolina that I'd try to make it to their house in time for supper, and I'd lose an hour along the way when I entered the Eastern time zone, so there was no time to sit around and savor my second-place finish or agonize over missing first place by a narrow margin.
My friends live high in the mountains between Asheville and Johnson City, and the weather was absolutely gorgeous when I arrived there in the evening. I gleefully changed into long pants and a long-sleeved shirt before joining them for supper.
I slept wonderfully and woke up yesterday morning to a picture-perfect kind of day. And I've got an actual picture to prove it:
Suitably enough, my friends had plans to spend the day in the outdoors, so I bade them goodbye and continued east toward my sister's family's home, where I'll be spending several days. As usual for a day after a race, I wanted to get in my boat and work some of the previous day's stresses out of my body, and Lake James appeared to be the most convenient venue along my route. Lake James is a reservoir at the foot of the Blue Ridge Escarpment that was formed by a dam across the Catawba River. It sits between the towns of Marion and Morganton.
On this beautiful Sunday afternoon the lake was utterly teeming with all manner of motorized pleasure craft. Clearly, this would not be a serene recovery paddle. It takes more energy and concentration to paddle in churned-up waters, and of course one can't expect me not to try to surf anytime some good waves come my way.
In any case, I managed not to kill myself out there during my 80-minute paddle, but I was quite worn out when it was over. Fortunately my sister's house was less than an hour away, and when I got there I had just enough time for a nap before suppertime. I plan to spend the next day or two giving my body some real rest before I set my sights on the next race this Saturday.
My friends live high in the mountains between Asheville and Johnson City, and the weather was absolutely gorgeous when I arrived there in the evening. I gleefully changed into long pants and a long-sleeved shirt before joining them for supper.
I slept wonderfully and woke up yesterday morning to a picture-perfect kind of day. And I've got an actual picture to prove it:
Suitably enough, my friends had plans to spend the day in the outdoors, so I bade them goodbye and continued east toward my sister's family's home, where I'll be spending several days. As usual for a day after a race, I wanted to get in my boat and work some of the previous day's stresses out of my body, and Lake James appeared to be the most convenient venue along my route. Lake James is a reservoir at the foot of the Blue Ridge Escarpment that was formed by a dam across the Catawba River. It sits between the towns of Marion and Morganton.
On this beautiful Sunday afternoon the lake was utterly teeming with all manner of motorized pleasure craft. Clearly, this would not be a serene recovery paddle. It takes more energy and concentration to paddle in churned-up waters, and of course one can't expect me not to try to surf anytime some good waves come my way.
In any case, I managed not to kill myself out there during my 80-minute paddle, but I was quite worn out when it was over. Fortunately my sister's house was less than an hour away, and when I got there I had just enough time for a nap before suppertime. I plan to spend the next day or two giving my body some real rest before I set my sights on the next race this Saturday.
Sunday, July 30, 2017
First weekend of vacation, Part B: Racing in Nashville
The weatherman had promised some relief from the sweltering summer heat, and it seemed that he'd delivered as I prepared to head out to the race site yesterday morning. My stomach still felt a bit heavy from that massive burger but my bodily functions seemed to be proceeding on schedule.
My race was on J. Percy Priest Reservoir on the east side of town. This body of water, formed by the construction of a dam on the Stones River near its confluence with the Cumberland River, is a place I hadn't visited since I'd been a college student in Nashville in the late 1980s. I arrived at the race site yesterday morning and realized I'd forgotten what a nice lake it is.
The race distance was 6 miles: three laps of a 2-mile loop. We warmed up and assembled at the starting line, and off we went. Very quickly I found myself in the lead pack with Scott Cummins of Louisville, Kentucky, and Ted Burnell of Chattanooga, Tennessee.
Out on the lake there were some decent-sized waves driven by an 8- or 9-mile-per-hour wind, and each leg of the triangular course offered its own particular challenge. The stretch from the starting line to the first buoy turn seemed to be the "calmest" of the three legs; the second leg went straight into a headwind; and the final leg featured waves running from about four o'clock to ten o'clock, if our bows were pointed toward twelve o'clock.
By the three-mile mark Scott and I had opened a gap on Ted, and I knew I was in familiar territory. I've been racing with Scott off and on for the last fifteen years or so, and while we're generally evenly matched, he has seemed to have my number when the finish line comes into view and it's time to go for the win.
This history between us was at the front of my mind as more and more of the course passed beneath us. As we began the third and final lap I was still feeling reasonably fresh, and given the regular sprint workouts I'd done during the summer, I thought I should have a good shot at him as long as I conserved my energy for a strong finish. Scott seemed content to hold the lead--he later told me he wanted to control how we approached the buoy turns among the standup-paddleboard racers who were also on the course--so I tried to stay positioned on his stern wake, especially on the upwind leg.
I didn't do myself any favors at the final buoy turn. Scott went to the outside of a pair of SUP racers, and I thought I could cut inside and gain an instant boatlength or two on him. But at the last second one of the boarders turned sharply right in front of me, and because he was in right-of-way position, there wasn't much I could do but stop paddling for the few seconds it took him to get out of my way. Then I had to throw in a sprint just to regain contact with Scott. Now we were headed toward the finish line with the waves following us at an oblique angle, and we tried to tack back and forth to get whatever boost from them we could. The final 400 meters or so were in slightly more protected water, and as soon as I sensed the waves were starting to abate I began my final sprint. By this time Scott had drifted off some distance to my left and it was hard to tell which of us was actually in the lead, but I liked my chances. I pretended I was back on Patriot Lake where our "Thursday evening sprints" take place, and sprinted as hard as I could.
But as our paths toward the finish line converged, Scott wasn't giving an inch. My fitness was there, enabling me to bear down ever harder, but the necessary speed was not, and Scott held me off to win by about a third of a boatlength.
The results are posted here. You have to click on "Results," and then choose "6 mile" from the "select an event" menu. Scott (who is listed as William Cummins) officially beat me by 1.46 seconds, but I think the true margin was about a second less than that.
But that's "all academic," as they say. It was a good hard-fought contest and I have no complaints. Surely it's only a matter of time before I finally end up on the winning end of a mad sprint to the finish with my Kentucky rival.
My race was on J. Percy Priest Reservoir on the east side of town. This body of water, formed by the construction of a dam on the Stones River near its confluence with the Cumberland River, is a place I hadn't visited since I'd been a college student in Nashville in the late 1980s. I arrived at the race site yesterday morning and realized I'd forgotten what a nice lake it is.
The race distance was 6 miles: three laps of a 2-mile loop. We warmed up and assembled at the starting line, and off we went. Very quickly I found myself in the lead pack with Scott Cummins of Louisville, Kentucky, and Ted Burnell of Chattanooga, Tennessee.
Out on the lake there were some decent-sized waves driven by an 8- or 9-mile-per-hour wind, and each leg of the triangular course offered its own particular challenge. The stretch from the starting line to the first buoy turn seemed to be the "calmest" of the three legs; the second leg went straight into a headwind; and the final leg featured waves running from about four o'clock to ten o'clock, if our bows were pointed toward twelve o'clock.
By the three-mile mark Scott and I had opened a gap on Ted, and I knew I was in familiar territory. I've been racing with Scott off and on for the last fifteen years or so, and while we're generally evenly matched, he has seemed to have my number when the finish line comes into view and it's time to go for the win.
This history between us was at the front of my mind as more and more of the course passed beneath us. As we began the third and final lap I was still feeling reasonably fresh, and given the regular sprint workouts I'd done during the summer, I thought I should have a good shot at him as long as I conserved my energy for a strong finish. Scott seemed content to hold the lead--he later told me he wanted to control how we approached the buoy turns among the standup-paddleboard racers who were also on the course--so I tried to stay positioned on his stern wake, especially on the upwind leg.
I didn't do myself any favors at the final buoy turn. Scott went to the outside of a pair of SUP racers, and I thought I could cut inside and gain an instant boatlength or two on him. But at the last second one of the boarders turned sharply right in front of me, and because he was in right-of-way position, there wasn't much I could do but stop paddling for the few seconds it took him to get out of my way. Then I had to throw in a sprint just to regain contact with Scott. Now we were headed toward the finish line with the waves following us at an oblique angle, and we tried to tack back and forth to get whatever boost from them we could. The final 400 meters or so were in slightly more protected water, and as soon as I sensed the waves were starting to abate I began my final sprint. By this time Scott had drifted off some distance to my left and it was hard to tell which of us was actually in the lead, but I liked my chances. I pretended I was back on Patriot Lake where our "Thursday evening sprints" take place, and sprinted as hard as I could.
But as our paths toward the finish line converged, Scott wasn't giving an inch. My fitness was there, enabling me to bear down ever harder, but the necessary speed was not, and Scott held me off to win by about a third of a boatlength.
The results are posted here. You have to click on "Results," and then choose "6 mile" from the "select an event" menu. Scott (who is listed as William Cummins) officially beat me by 1.46 seconds, but I think the true margin was about a second less than that.
But that's "all academic," as they say. It was a good hard-fought contest and I have no complaints. Surely it's only a matter of time before I finally end up on the winning end of a mad sprint to the finish with my Kentucky rival.
First weekend of vacation, Part A: leaving town and race prep
It's always hard to get out of town. I spent the 48 hours from the middle of Wednesday to the middle of Friday furiously trying to tie up all the many loose ends. Along the way I got down to the river both Thursday morning and Friday morning, doing a few 12-stroke sprints and trying to perfect my "race face."
The oppressive summer heat makes everything seem more difficult, including travel preparation. It took me no time to become drenched with sweat as I carried my bags and paddling gear out to the car after lunch on Friday. Finally, with everything packed, I toweled off and hit the road. My first stop was Nashville, where I stayed with an old college friend. We went out for supper at a bar and grill nearby, and about the only thing on the menu that appealed to me was the burger, so I ordered that... not exactly a textbook pre-race meal. Once I'd wolfed down that half-pound of ground beef I wondered if my body would be able to process it before my 9:30 start the next morning.
The oppressive summer heat makes everything seem more difficult, including travel preparation. It took me no time to become drenched with sweat as I carried my bags and paddling gear out to the car after lunch on Friday. Finally, with everything packed, I toweled off and hit the road. My first stop was Nashville, where I stayed with an old college friend. We went out for supper at a bar and grill nearby, and about the only thing on the menu that appealed to me was the burger, so I ordered that... not exactly a textbook pre-race meal. Once I'd wolfed down that half-pound of ground beef I wondered if my body would be able to process it before my 9:30 start the next morning.
Wednesday, July 26, 2017
Survival skills at the height of summer
This morning I did the strength routine for the last time before this next round of races. Now it's time to hone my speed a little and get some rest.
Yesterday I had an enjoyable 60 minutes on the riverfront. As I was paddling from the harbor onto the Mississippi there was a barge rig coming downriver, and I fell in behind it to see if the surf was up. I got several decent rides before the waves began to peter out. As I drifted along looking around to see if any more waves were developing, I saw a guy in a big bass boat heading my way. He called out "Are you okay?" Somewhat surprised, I said, "Yeah!" He said, "Okay, I was just checking to make sure," and I gave him thumbs-up and yelled "Thank you!"
And just to be clear, I am very grateful for his concern. But I'm also a bit puzzled, and curious to know just what he was seeing that made him think I was a boater in distress rather than the happy, relaxed, content paddler that I actually was at that moment. I think it's an interesting example of the different worlds that paddlers and fishermen live in even though they're both boaters using the same river. Somehow he looked at me and saw a different reality from the one I was experiencing.
Once I was certain the surfing opportunity had run its course, I paddled back upriver along Tom Lee Park and re-entered the harbor. Once back on flatwater I did six 12-stroke sprints at two-minute intervals.
It was another sweltering hot day, and with the wind at my back as I paddled back to the dock, I was feeling the heat in a big way. But it was nothing a bath under the hose couldn't cure. Who needs a spa when the marina where you keep your boat is equipped with a water spigot?
Yesterday I had an enjoyable 60 minutes on the riverfront. As I was paddling from the harbor onto the Mississippi there was a barge rig coming downriver, and I fell in behind it to see if the surf was up. I got several decent rides before the waves began to peter out. As I drifted along looking around to see if any more waves were developing, I saw a guy in a big bass boat heading my way. He called out "Are you okay?" Somewhat surprised, I said, "Yeah!" He said, "Okay, I was just checking to make sure," and I gave him thumbs-up and yelled "Thank you!"
And just to be clear, I am very grateful for his concern. But I'm also a bit puzzled, and curious to know just what he was seeing that made him think I was a boater in distress rather than the happy, relaxed, content paddler that I actually was at that moment. I think it's an interesting example of the different worlds that paddlers and fishermen live in even though they're both boaters using the same river. Somehow he looked at me and saw a different reality from the one I was experiencing.
Once I was certain the surfing opportunity had run its course, I paddled back upriver along Tom Lee Park and re-entered the harbor. Once back on flatwater I did six 12-stroke sprints at two-minute intervals.
It was another sweltering hot day, and with the wind at my back as I paddled back to the dock, I was feeling the heat in a big way. But it was nothing a bath under the hose couldn't cure. Who needs a spa when the marina where you keep your boat is equipped with a water spigot?
Monday, July 24, 2017
Monday photo feature
A couple of big races took place over the weekend. The "new kid on the block" was the Gorge Downwind Championships, an event that's in its fourth or fifth year on the Columbia River at Hood River, Oregon. On the opposite coast was the decades-old Blackburn Challenge, a circumnavigation of Cape Ann starting and finishing at Gloucester, Massachusetts.
Pictured here are the top three overall Blackburn Challenge finishers. Craig Impens (center) was an impressive winner over Erik Borgnes (right) and Mike Dostal. Photo by Bob Capellini.
Sunday, July 23, 2017
The dog days are here
It's just about time for my race season to resume! I have a competition each of the next three weekends. Next Saturday is the Music City SUP and Kayak Race on Nashville's J. Percy Priest Reservoir. A week after that is The Paddle Grapple on Fontana Reservoir near Bryson City, North Carolina. And then on the 11-13 of August I'll be racing in the USCA National Championships on the Mississippi River up at Dubuque, Iowa. I plan to make a little two-week vacation of it all and see what kind of summer this particular portion of America is having.
A forecast heat index up around 110 was good motivation for me to get down to the river promptly yesterday morning. I didn't do anything too special in 60 minutes of paddling; I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints and then just tried to maintain a good solid pace.
Today's agenda was pretty similar. I actually felt tired in the boat, and I'm not sure why because I hadn't done anything intense since Thursday evening. But I went through the motions for 70 minutes and tried to achieve the best quality paddling I could. Once again I warmed up and did three 8-strokers, and then I went out on the river and tried to paddle strong. A barge rig was coming downriver and I followed it for a while and managed a couple of brief surfs, but nothing I'd describe as surfing ecstasy.
There was a pretty good breeze blowing from the south this morning and it felt good whenever I was paddling into it. When it was at my back I got very hot. As I paddled from the mouth of the harbor back toward the dock I stopped a couple of times to baptize myself.
A forecast heat index up around 110 was good motivation for me to get down to the river promptly yesterday morning. I didn't do anything too special in 60 minutes of paddling; I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints and then just tried to maintain a good solid pace.
Today's agenda was pretty similar. I actually felt tired in the boat, and I'm not sure why because I hadn't done anything intense since Thursday evening. But I went through the motions for 70 minutes and tried to achieve the best quality paddling I could. Once again I warmed up and did three 8-strokers, and then I went out on the river and tried to paddle strong. A barge rig was coming downriver and I followed it for a while and managed a couple of brief surfs, but nothing I'd describe as surfing ecstasy.
There was a pretty good breeze blowing from the south this morning and it felt good whenever I was paddling into it. When it was at my back I got very hot. As I paddled from the mouth of the harbor back toward the dock I stopped a couple of times to baptize myself.
Friday, July 21, 2017
Respite
For the last few Tuesdays in a row it's felt like paddling was the only good thing that happened. Maybe it's the fact that the work week is still just getting started on Tuesday, and my work weeks have been pretty nerve-wracking for the last couple of months. In any case, once again this week paddling was the bright spot of my day on Tuesday. After warming up and doing three 8-stroke sprints in the harbor, I paddled up the river into a north breeze that gave welcome relief from the stifling heat that's settling into the Mid South now. On the way back downriver I stopped and played around in the eddies created by the Hernando DeSoto Bridge pilings. Slalom racing and whitewater boating are never far from my heart, and I had fun doing a couple of ferries from one piling to another. They were long ferries, of course, but at 21 feet long my boat is commensurate. Back at the dock I enjoyed a long drink of lovely cool water from our Memphis Sands artesian well. I also took a bath under the hose, for which I keep a bottle of Dr. Bronner's soap down there. And so at least for a little while, life was good on Tuesday.
Last night was another round of "Thursday evening sprints" out at Shelby Farms. I mentioned that last week's sprints seemed to hurt more than usual, and I'm now convinced that wasn't just my imagination because I felt significantly better during last night's workout. I must have been tired and low on energy last week; maybe I wasn't as hydrated as I should have been.
Yesterday was another hot and steamy day--I think the high was around 97 degrees Fahrenheit with a heat index value up around 106. But out at Shelby Farms we got a break in the form of a nearby thunderstorm cell that provided some cloud cover and a cooling breeze. We got rained on a little bit but the heart of the storm was several miles south of us for the entire workout.
This morning I wrapped up the "business" week with another round of the strength routine. I did it on Monday, Wednesday, and today this week.
Last night was another round of "Thursday evening sprints" out at Shelby Farms. I mentioned that last week's sprints seemed to hurt more than usual, and I'm now convinced that wasn't just my imagination because I felt significantly better during last night's workout. I must have been tired and low on energy last week; maybe I wasn't as hydrated as I should have been.
Yesterday was another hot and steamy day--I think the high was around 97 degrees Fahrenheit with a heat index value up around 106. But out at Shelby Farms we got a break in the form of a nearby thunderstorm cell that provided some cloud cover and a cooling breeze. We got rained on a little bit but the heart of the storm was several miles south of us for the entire workout.
This morning I wrapped up the "business" week with another round of the strength routine. I did it on Monday, Wednesday, and today this week.
Monday, July 17, 2017
Monday photo feature
Here's another photo taken by Adam Davis during a recent trip around the Loosahatchie Bar. Here we have the downtown Memphis skyline with Kata Dismukes, Fred Hatler, and me paddling in the foreground. We're approaching the north end of the Bar.
Sunday, July 16, 2017
Weekend mileage
Yesterday I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints and then just paddled steady. Even though it was very humid there was a nice little breeze and some clouds in the sky that kept things comfortable.
The same was true this morning as I met four other paddlers for a group session. Fred Hatler, Kata Dismukes, Jason Salomon, Ralph Dismukes, and I paddled out of the harbor and up the Mississippi to the mouth of the Wolf River, and then up the Wolf to the Danny Thomas Boulevard bridge before turning around and paddling back to the harbor. We paddled a pretty good tempo up the Mississippi, and another one up the Wolf. The rest of the paddling was pretty moderate.
It's been nice having some company out on the river the last several weekends. So much of the time I feel sort of antisocial as a paddler, I guess because my particular training plan might not suit everybody. But in the last month or so I've fallen into a pattern of doing sprints at Shelby Farms on Thursday evening and a group paddle on the riverfront during the weekend, and that's been fun.
We paddled in a nice tight pack as we came back down the Wolf from Danny Thomas. We passed several men fishing near the Second Street bridge, and I imagine our bright colorful surf skis were quite in contrast to the camouflage-painted johnboats they're probably used to seeing on the Wolf.
The same was true this morning as I met four other paddlers for a group session. Fred Hatler, Kata Dismukes, Jason Salomon, Ralph Dismukes, and I paddled out of the harbor and up the Mississippi to the mouth of the Wolf River, and then up the Wolf to the Danny Thomas Boulevard bridge before turning around and paddling back to the harbor. We paddled a pretty good tempo up the Mississippi, and another one up the Wolf. The rest of the paddling was pretty moderate.
It's been nice having some company out on the river the last several weekends. So much of the time I feel sort of antisocial as a paddler, I guess because my particular training plan might not suit everybody. But in the last month or so I've fallen into a pattern of doing sprints at Shelby Farms on Thursday evening and a group paddle on the riverfront during the weekend, and that's been fun.
We paddled in a nice tight pack as we came back down the Wolf from Danny Thomas. We passed several men fishing near the Second Street bridge, and I imagine our bright colorful surf skis were quite in contrast to the camouflage-painted johnboats they're probably used to seeing on the Wolf.
Friday, July 14, 2017
Ecstasy and agony
The heat index has moved on up into triple digits this week, but it still hasn't been quite as bad as it can be in the Mid South in July. I think the highest actual temperature we've had so far has been maybe 95 degrees Fahrenheit; some years we're over 100 at this time.
Tuesday was one of those days when my 60 minutes in the boat felt like just what the doctor ordered. I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints in the harbor, and then paddled up the Mississippi to the southern reaches of the Greenbelt Park. A barge rig was coming downstream and I tried to ride its wake back down to the harbor entrance, but the waves weren't much good. It was invigorating to rev my engines for that short period, at least.
Last night I went out to Shelby Farms for "Thursday evening sprints" on Patriot Lake. I guess those sprints always hurt pretty good, but they seemed to hurt a little more than usual last night. Moving into that "top gear" that I usually have felt like a real struggle. We did four sprints with four or five minutes recovery in between. We're using fixed landmarks for our start and finish; the distance is somewhere in the neighborhood of 500 meters--a little bit short of that, probably.
I was dead-tired after last night's workout but this morning I'm not feeling too achy. I did a round of the current strength routine to complete my usual Monday-Wednesday-Friday cycle for that.
Tuesday was one of those days when my 60 minutes in the boat felt like just what the doctor ordered. I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints in the harbor, and then paddled up the Mississippi to the southern reaches of the Greenbelt Park. A barge rig was coming downstream and I tried to ride its wake back down to the harbor entrance, but the waves weren't much good. It was invigorating to rev my engines for that short period, at least.
Last night I went out to Shelby Farms for "Thursday evening sprints" on Patriot Lake. I guess those sprints always hurt pretty good, but they seemed to hurt a little more than usual last night. Moving into that "top gear" that I usually have felt like a real struggle. We did four sprints with four or five minutes recovery in between. We're using fixed landmarks for our start and finish; the distance is somewhere in the neighborhood of 500 meters--a little bit short of that, probably.
I was dead-tired after last night's workout but this morning I'm not feeling too achy. I did a round of the current strength routine to complete my usual Monday-Wednesday-Friday cycle for that.
About those 8-stroke sprints
Anybody who has followed this blog for a while is familiar with me saying "I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints" at the beginning of a paddling session. Maybe it's time I talked a bit more about what these are and why I do them.
An "8-stroke sprint" is just that: a forward sprint in which I take eight strokes. I count my strokes on one side of the boat--in other words, one full cycle of a stroke on the left and a stroke on the right counts as "one stroke" in my book. I suppose some would argue that I'm actually taking 16 strokes, but... my training, my rules.
When I do a set of 8-stroke sprints, I normally do them at two-minute intervals. That gives my body time to recover fully from each sprint so it doesn't start to produce lactic acid. Usually I will stop paddling 20 seconds before each sprint, so that I'm starting from rest or almost from rest.
What am I trying to accomplish with these 8-stroke sprints? Several different things.
I believe that both starting the boat from rest and paddling very hard at a high stroke rate are skills that can be improved with practice. Raw power and speed, mind you, are things that some athletes have more of than others: the current 200-meter world champion probably has natural gifts of this kind that I have never had and never will have. But whatever power- and speed-related gifts you do have can be realized most fully with some practice. And so doing several 8-stroke sprints at the beginning of a session are how I get in such practice on a regular basis.
Short, fast sprints are a good way to work the ATP-CP energy system. This is the system that supplies a quick burst of energy at the beginning of a race. It can be whipped into shape much faster than the aerobic system (which takes months) and the anaerobic system (which takes weeks), and doing so doesn't tax the body much because of the short duration of the sprints; because of those things I used to work it only in the week or so before a big competition. But I've since learned that giving it a tiny bit of work on a regular basis helps me avoid that sluggish feeling in the boat. In the days before a big race I'll get a little more serious about it since I've tapered off all other types of training; typically I'll stretch the sprints out to 12 strokes to make them about 15 seconds each, close to the maximum for an ATP-CP energy burst.
Some days my 8-stroke sprints feel smooth and effortless, and some days they feel like a sloppy struggle. I have to focus extra-hard on making sure all my muscles are firing in unison, from my legs up through my torso and arms. I think this is a good exercise--if I can be precise at high intensity, then precision will feel natural when I relax and paddle at a more reasonable pace.
Technique, start practice, speed, quick energy... those are the things I have in mind when I do my 8-stroke sprints. And if nothing else, they spice up my paddling session a little.
UPDATE (August 16, 2018): Here's a video of me doing an 8-stroke sprint!
An "8-stroke sprint" is just that: a forward sprint in which I take eight strokes. I count my strokes on one side of the boat--in other words, one full cycle of a stroke on the left and a stroke on the right counts as "one stroke" in my book. I suppose some would argue that I'm actually taking 16 strokes, but... my training, my rules.
When I do a set of 8-stroke sprints, I normally do them at two-minute intervals. That gives my body time to recover fully from each sprint so it doesn't start to produce lactic acid. Usually I will stop paddling 20 seconds before each sprint, so that I'm starting from rest or almost from rest.
What am I trying to accomplish with these 8-stroke sprints? Several different things.
I believe that both starting the boat from rest and paddling very hard at a high stroke rate are skills that can be improved with practice. Raw power and speed, mind you, are things that some athletes have more of than others: the current 200-meter world champion probably has natural gifts of this kind that I have never had and never will have. But whatever power- and speed-related gifts you do have can be realized most fully with some practice. And so doing several 8-stroke sprints at the beginning of a session are how I get in such practice on a regular basis.
Short, fast sprints are a good way to work the ATP-CP energy system. This is the system that supplies a quick burst of energy at the beginning of a race. It can be whipped into shape much faster than the aerobic system (which takes months) and the anaerobic system (which takes weeks), and doing so doesn't tax the body much because of the short duration of the sprints; because of those things I used to work it only in the week or so before a big competition. But I've since learned that giving it a tiny bit of work on a regular basis helps me avoid that sluggish feeling in the boat. In the days before a big race I'll get a little more serious about it since I've tapered off all other types of training; typically I'll stretch the sprints out to 12 strokes to make them about 15 seconds each, close to the maximum for an ATP-CP energy burst.
Some days my 8-stroke sprints feel smooth and effortless, and some days they feel like a sloppy struggle. I have to focus extra-hard on making sure all my muscles are firing in unison, from my legs up through my torso and arms. I think this is a good exercise--if I can be precise at high intensity, then precision will feel natural when I relax and paddle at a more reasonable pace.
Technique, start practice, speed, quick energy... those are the things I have in mind when I do my 8-stroke sprints. And if nothing else, they spice up my paddling session a little.
UPDATE (August 16, 2018): Here's a video of me doing an 8-stroke sprint!
Monday, July 10, 2017
Monday photo feature
When you build something on the bank of the lower Mississippi River, you do so at your peril.
This house, sort of a "weekend getaway" owned by a prominent Memphis attorney, sits on the Arkansas side a mile or so above the Hernando DeSoto Bridge. While the city of Memphis sits on a bluff, the Arkansas side consists of low-lying floodplain, and I expect this lot was built up with fill dirt.
The house has a breathtaking view of the river with the downtown Memphis skyline in the distance. And yet, I'm very glad I don't own the place, for unless some extensive and expensive bank stabilization gets done this house is not long for this world. There's a reason that most of the lower Mississippi River is surrounded by miles of uninhabited and undeveloped bottomland.
Sunday, July 9, 2017
Summary of a busy week
After another week filled with out-of-the-boat distractions it feels as though I've accomplished nothing as a paddler. But that's not really true. I paddled my usual number of times (four) last week and I got a couple of pretty good workouts in. I also did two rounds of the current strength routine. What's been missing is the spare time to process these activities in my mind and share my thoughts with you here.
I paddled with Joe on Wednesday and planned to attend "Thursday evening sprints" the next day, but something came up to prevent me from doing that. So I went down to the river on Friday intending to paddle hard. At this time of year, when I've got a pretty good base under me from the winter and spring, I do a lot more short fast pieces; but on Friday I decided to take the opportunity for some pace work. I did three one-mile pieces with five minutes recovery in between. My target pace was 7.0 miles per hour; I ended up averaging a little over that--7.1 or 7.2. My time for each mile was about 8 minutes, 26 seconds.
Yesterday I went back out and paddled for 70 minutes. After warming up and doing three 8-stroke sprints, I paddled out onto the Mississippi and surfed the waves behind an upstream-bound barge rig. Surfing demands some hard paddling, but it seems a lot more fun than when I'm doing a timed piece, probably because there's no pressure to achieve a certain time or pace.
Today I joined five other local paddlers for another trip around the Loosahatchie Bar. The upstream leg of our journey had the feel of a group training session, with exchanging of wake rides and stuff like that. Once we had "summited" the north end of the Bar it was more of a relaxing Sunday float. As we crossed the Mississippi back toward the mouth of the harbor there was another barge rig coming upstream, and I managed to get several brief surfs on its waves. So today's trip had a little of everything.
I paddled with Joe on Wednesday and planned to attend "Thursday evening sprints" the next day, but something came up to prevent me from doing that. So I went down to the river on Friday intending to paddle hard. At this time of year, when I've got a pretty good base under me from the winter and spring, I do a lot more short fast pieces; but on Friday I decided to take the opportunity for some pace work. I did three one-mile pieces with five minutes recovery in between. My target pace was 7.0 miles per hour; I ended up averaging a little over that--7.1 or 7.2. My time for each mile was about 8 minutes, 26 seconds.
Yesterday I went back out and paddled for 70 minutes. After warming up and doing three 8-stroke sprints, I paddled out onto the Mississippi and surfed the waves behind an upstream-bound barge rig. Surfing demands some hard paddling, but it seems a lot more fun than when I'm doing a timed piece, probably because there's no pressure to achieve a certain time or pace.
Today I joined five other local paddlers for another trip around the Loosahatchie Bar. The upstream leg of our journey had the feel of a group training session, with exchanging of wake rides and stuff like that. Once we had "summited" the north end of the Bar it was more of a relaxing Sunday float. As we crossed the Mississippi back toward the mouth of the harbor there was another barge rig coming upstream, and I managed to get several brief surfs on its waves. So today's trip had a little of everything.
Monday, July 3, 2017
Monday photo feature
Adam Davis shot this photo of (left to right) Jason Salomon, me, and Mike Womack as we emerged from the Loosahatchie Chute and headed back toward downtown Memphis today. The Mississippi River is about as good a place as any to spend a muggy summer day.
Sore but active anyway
On Saturday I paddled for 60 minutes downtown. I was still feeling a bit sore and worn out from the Thursday evening session. I just tried to relax and enjoy the morning on the river.
Yesterday was a burly work day. I spent the day cutting up a section of a large tree that fell in my mother's neighborhood. The wood was desirable for my woodworking business, so I put quite a bit of effort into busting up a 55-inch-long, 40-inch-diameter piece of the trunk into small enough pieces for me to lift into the back of my truck. The task left me exhausted and sore.
I was still very sore this morning, but not too much so for a paddle around the Loosahatchie Bar with several other local paddlers. I went downtown and met Adam Davis, Jason Salomon, and Mike Womack for this journey of 12 miles or so.
This image shows a typical lap around the Bar. It actually depicts a trip that Joe Royer and his wife Carol Lee took a month or two ago, but the route is similar to what Adam, Jason, Mike, and I did today:
At today's river level--15.3 feet on the Memphis gauge--I was afraid we would have to paddle a lot of extra distance to get around the exposed sand at the upper end of the Bar, but we found a route through it with minimal scraping of the bottom.
We pushed the pace at times but also took time to relax and enjoy the environs. All told, I think it was a pretty good remedy for my sore body.
Yesterday was a burly work day. I spent the day cutting up a section of a large tree that fell in my mother's neighborhood. The wood was desirable for my woodworking business, so I put quite a bit of effort into busting up a 55-inch-long, 40-inch-diameter piece of the trunk into small enough pieces for me to lift into the back of my truck. The task left me exhausted and sore.
I was still very sore this morning, but not too much so for a paddle around the Loosahatchie Bar with several other local paddlers. I went downtown and met Adam Davis, Jason Salomon, and Mike Womack for this journey of 12 miles or so.
This image shows a typical lap around the Bar. It actually depicts a trip that Joe Royer and his wife Carol Lee took a month or two ago, but the route is similar to what Adam, Jason, Mike, and I did today:
At today's river level--15.3 feet on the Memphis gauge--I was afraid we would have to paddle a lot of extra distance to get around the exposed sand at the upper end of the Bar, but we found a route through it with minimal scraping of the bottom.
We pushed the pace at times but also took time to relax and enjoy the environs. All told, I think it was a pretty good remedy for my sore body.
Friday, June 30, 2017
Treading water for a bit
Since the Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race I've been taking a little bit of a break from "serious" training. I'm still paddling, still doing my strength routine; but I haven't yet started focusing on the races to come.
Those races will be here before I know it, however. The next race I might do is just three weeks from tomorrow. And then the next three weekends after that feature races that I might do in the form of a little two-week vacation trip. So that's four consecutive weekends of racing I could be looking at. Hmm.
Last night I paddled at high intensity for the first time since the OICK Race, and it was pretty taxing. One thing I've learned is that when you have a really good race, a euphoria ensues that makes it very easy to forget just how hard the workouts were that produced the good result. I met other local paddlers out at Shelby Farms for a set of five 500ish-meter sprints followed by a fast lap of the lake, and I guess it was my harsh reminder that the euphoric period is over and it's time to get back to business. By the last two sprints, I was struggling. I did see a silver lining in the lake lap, which was somewhere in the neighborhood of 3000 meters. I found a decent rhythm and I was encouraged by how well I was able to paddle after those exhausting sprints.
Besides last night's session, this week I did the strength routine Monday, Wednesday, and today, and on Tuesday Joe and I did out usual loop of the harbor.
Those races will be here before I know it, however. The next race I might do is just three weeks from tomorrow. And then the next three weekends after that feature races that I might do in the form of a little two-week vacation trip. So that's four consecutive weekends of racing I could be looking at. Hmm.
Last night I paddled at high intensity for the first time since the OICK Race, and it was pretty taxing. One thing I've learned is that when you have a really good race, a euphoria ensues that makes it very easy to forget just how hard the workouts were that produced the good result. I met other local paddlers out at Shelby Farms for a set of five 500ish-meter sprints followed by a fast lap of the lake, and I guess it was my harsh reminder that the euphoric period is over and it's time to get back to business. By the last two sprints, I was struggling. I did see a silver lining in the lake lap, which was somewhere in the neighborhood of 3000 meters. I found a decent rhythm and I was encouraged by how well I was able to paddle after those exhausting sprints.
Besides last night's session, this week I did the strength routine Monday, Wednesday, and today, and on Tuesday Joe and I did out usual loop of the harbor.
Monday, June 26, 2017
Monday photo feature
Before the Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race, my mother and my sister's family and I spent several days at Dauphin Island on the Alabama Gulf Coast. Here I am on a breezy afternoon, paddling with my niece Rachel in Mississippi Sound near our rented house.
Sunday, June 25, 2017
Playing around this weekend
Yesterday morning I paddled in the harbor for 60 minutes. After warming up and doing three 8-stroke sprints, I did a few one-minute surges with two minutes recovery in between. I didn't hammer them at all; I just picked up the pace a bit. I don't remember how many pieces I did--five or six, maybe. It was an unstructured sort of thing.
Today I didn't make it to the river until the afternoon, but it was the highlight of my day. The weather was gorgeous: sunny, mid 80s Fahrenheit, not humid. I paddled out of the harbor and up the Mississippi just above the Hernando DeSoto Bridge, and then ferried out into the river where a barge rig was heading upstream. The towboat's engines were producing some excellent waves and I got a few absolutely sweet rides. Who says Memphis isn't Surf City USA?
After a while the barge rig had moved on upriver and the waves petered out, and I ferried on over to the Arkansas side. Over there I discovered a new channel that the river has cut through the bottomland sometime in the recent past, and I paddled up it a ways. At one point I paddled right over a gigantic gar and when it reacted in surprise I thought it might flip my boat. I weathered the storm.
I apparently hadn't drunk enough water during the day because for the last 40 minutes of my 90-minute session I was quite dehydrated. I had water back on the dock but not in the boat with me. I don't think I was in any great danger but it made for a sluggish paddle back. My water was in one of those insulated flasks and it was still cold, and once I was back on the dock it felt like heaven to drink deeply.
Today I didn't make it to the river until the afternoon, but it was the highlight of my day. The weather was gorgeous: sunny, mid 80s Fahrenheit, not humid. I paddled out of the harbor and up the Mississippi just above the Hernando DeSoto Bridge, and then ferried out into the river where a barge rig was heading upstream. The towboat's engines were producing some excellent waves and I got a few absolutely sweet rides. Who says Memphis isn't Surf City USA?
After a while the barge rig had moved on upriver and the waves petered out, and I ferried on over to the Arkansas side. Over there I discovered a new channel that the river has cut through the bottomland sometime in the recent past, and I paddled up it a ways. At one point I paddled right over a gigantic gar and when it reacted in surprise I thought it might flip my boat. I weathered the storm.
I apparently hadn't drunk enough water during the day because for the last 40 minutes of my 90-minute session I was quite dehydrated. I had water back on the dock but not in the boat with me. I don't think I was in any great danger but it made for a sluggish paddle back. My water was in one of those insulated flasks and it was still cold, and once I was back on the dock it felt like heaven to drink deeply.
Friday, June 23, 2017
Some cross-blog promotin'; what's up with my stroke?
Chris Hipgrave, who finished second at the Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race last weekend, has a blog of his own: www.chrishipgrave.com.
I was honored when Chris asked me if he could re-post my race recap on his blog. You can see it here. While there you can watch the video Chris shot from the deck of his boat. I appear to Chris's right for a few seconds right at the beginning, starting around 0:11. In the later parts of the video Chris has left the likes of me behind and you can see how his duel with Mike Herbert unfolds. Chris's speed (in kilometers per hour) and heart rate are also on display.
One personal note: in that brief footage of me up at the start, it looks like I might not be getting my left-side blade fully immersed. This seems to be a recurring problem for me: once in a while I'll become aware of it and focus on correcting it, but by and by the habit seems to return. If there are any coaches reading this who'd like to watch that footage and tell me what they think, I'd be grateful.
I was honored when Chris asked me if he could re-post my race recap on his blog. You can see it here. While there you can watch the video Chris shot from the deck of his boat. I appear to Chris's right for a few seconds right at the beginning, starting around 0:11. In the later parts of the video Chris has left the likes of me behind and you can see how his duel with Mike Herbert unfolds. Chris's speed (in kilometers per hour) and heart rate are also on display.
One personal note: in that brief footage of me up at the start, it looks like I might not be getting my left-side blade fully immersed. This seems to be a recurring problem for me: once in a while I'll become aware of it and focus on correcting it, but by and by the habit seems to return. If there are any coaches reading this who'd like to watch that footage and tell me what they think, I'd be grateful.
Moving forward
I'm trying to get myself going again now that the Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race is behind me. Some of the same out-of-the-boat problems I was having before the race are rearing their ugly heads once more, but I have managed to paddle twice so far this week. On Tuesday Joe and I did our usual loop of the harbor, and yesterday I went out and did three 8-stroke sprints followed by some solid-tempo paddling with several surges thrown in.
It was nice having a break from strength work, but all good things must come to an end. As outlined in my last post, I've started a new routine. Normally I do a routine two times through, but I started today with just one. I'm easing into it, just like I usually do.
It was nice having a break from strength work, but all good things must come to an end. As outlined in my last post, I've started a new routine. Normally I do a routine two times through, but I started today with just one. I'm easing into it, just like I usually do.
A new strength routine
Here's the strength routine I hope to do for the next few weeks. The Jing-Jing Li and Daniele Molmenti videos I refer to are posted here.
1. Hand-paddling and hand-backpaddling with rubber bands. Demonstrated at 6:54 and 7:10 of the Daniele Molmenti video.
2. Plank exercise on stability ball. Demonstrated at 1:56 of the Jing-Jing Li video.
3. Rubber band row exercise. Demonstrated at 5:42 of the Daniele Molmenti video.
4. 4-way abdominal crunches
5. Behind-the-head lift with a dumbbell. I've never really known what this exercise is called, but it's been around longer than I have, probably. It looks like this:
1. Hand-paddling and hand-backpaddling with rubber bands. Demonstrated at 6:54 and 7:10 of the Daniele Molmenti video.
2. Plank exercise on stability ball. Demonstrated at 1:56 of the Jing-Jing Li video.
3. Rubber band row exercise. Demonstrated at 5:42 of the Daniele Molmenti video.
4. 4-way abdominal crunches
5. Behind-the-head lift with a dumbbell. I've never really known what this exercise is called, but it's been around longer than I have, probably. It looks like this:
Wednesday, June 21, 2017
MORE photos
There was another photographer at the race Saturday: somebody from Blair Ball Photography. This enterprising concern sent me an e-mail on Sunday with proofs of several shots they'd gotten of me. I guess they must have had access to the list of participants' race numbers and e-mail addresses.
And... I bought a couple of nicely re-touched digital images. Yes, this company made about 30 bucks off my vanity.
Remember that photo I posted on Monday? If we could scroll to the left a bit in that photo, the scene above is what we would see... me! You can see the boats of Mike Herbert (yellow) and Rick Carter (orange tip) that were fully visible in the other photo. Over on the other side of this photo you can see Mike's daughter Savanna wearing an orange visor and paddling an orange and grey boat. I think the white boat to my right belongs to Kata Dismukes.
Blair Ball Photography was down at the finish as well. This is my favorite of the shots they got of me there:
Monday, June 19, 2017
Monday photo feature
I've lost count of the number of times I've been just out of the frame of photographs of the Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race that run in our local media.
Here we have a shot taken at the starting line Saturday by Jim Weber of our daily newspaper, The Commercial Appeal. That's winner-to-be Mike Herbert in the middle of the photo, as he should be. Just behind Mike in the red-tipped Epic boat is Chris Hipgrave, the eventual runner-up. Over on the left side of the photo (number 8) is Rick Carter, who went on to finish fourth. Obscured by Rick's head is race director Joe Royer, who's paddling in the bow of a tandem boat with his wife Carol Lee handling the stern.
Where am I? I'm just to Rick's right. Out of the photo. Story of my life. I didn't merit a mention in the newspaper article either.
But you know... it's okay. If my main reason for being a canoe and kayak racer were to feed a craving for public adulation, I'd have starved to death decades ago. To be successful in this sport you have to be happy performing in a venue whose only spectators are fish, birds, turtles, and snakes.
Sunday, June 18, 2017
A few race photos
A photographer from Calo's Camera Photography was at the race yesterday and got all kinds of good shots. You can see the full photo set here. A few from my own boat class are shared below.
The horses are out of the gate as (bottom to top) Rick Carter, yours truly, Kata Dismukes, Jason and Ahava Salomon, Shaun Caven, and Joseph DiChiacchio paddle out of the Wolf River onto the Mississippi.
Chris Hipgrave and Mike Herbert are headed up into the harbor toward the finish line. That's me in the background rounding the southern tip of Mud Island. This photo makes it look like I'm a lot closer to Mike and Chris than it actually seemed to me in the race.
Now I'm headed up into the harbor myself with Rick Carter and Kata Dismukes in hot pursuit.
Rick Carter and Kata Dismukes are locked in a tight race for fourth place overall. Behind them, the finish order for the rest of the top ten is anything but decided. At the moment it appears to be Jason and Ahava Salomon in sixth; Joseph DiChiacchio in seventh; Andy Capel in eighth; Tim Schramm in ninth; and Waylon Willis in tenth. Did any shuffling occur between here and the finish line? Look here to find out.
Saturday, June 17, 2017
Reporting on the 36th OICK Race
The Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race is in the books for another year. This event has now happened 36 times, and I have participated myself 22 times.
Today's river level--13.5 feet on the Memphis gauge--was what I would call a very "average" level over all those years. The day was expected to be a steamy one, but thanks to some showers last night the temperature was surprisingly comfortable as we prepared to get started. There was a tradeoff, however: part of our relief from the heat was provided by a stiff south wind, and that same wind would make for choppy conditions and slow times on the race course.
More than 220 boats maneuvered into position at the starting line in the mouth of the Wolf River--possibly the highest turnout ever, I understand. I doubt anybody would have disagreed that the pre-race favorite was Mr. Mike Herbert of Rogers, Arkansas. A three-time Olympian and a three-time world championships medalist, Mike has a resume not too many people can match, and he continues to race at a high level in his fifties.
The gun went off, and sure enough Mike shot right to the front of the pack. But I knew he was not the only force to be reckoned with in today's field. The fastest starter was actually a 17-year-old Oklahoman named Garrett Wampler, an aspiring flatwater sprint racer. If this race had been entirely on flatwater I think Wampler might have left us all in the dust. But once we were out on the Mississippi it became painfully clear that his K1 was not a good boat for those sloppy waters. He stuck close to the bank and quickly fell off the pace, and I understand he later flipped. Still, I have filed his name away in my mind as one to watch for over the next two or three Olympic quadrennia.
Another fast starter was Chris Hipgrave of Bryson City, North Carolina. Chris is a guy I've known out on the race circuit for nearly twenty years, and when he's at his best I can't touch him, but in several races over the years I've finished tantalizingly close behind him. Today it quickly became apparent that he was in "can't touch him" form. He and Mike broke away from the rest of the field, and from where I sat it seemed Chris was really taking the fight to the Olympian.
By the end of the first kilometer I was alone in third place, but there was no time to rest on that laurel, for I knew people like Rick Carter and Kata Dismukes couldn't be far behind. Rick, who hails from South Carolina, has become something of a nemesis in the last several years with his wily racing tactics and his competitive tenacity. Kata, a resident of Memphis's eastern suburbs and the top female racer in this part of the country, has proven herself entirely capable of taking me down if I don't have my game in order.
So the pressure was on. But I have to say that I was feeling really, really good in my boat. Over the last month I had put in a steady diet of hard, fast pieces, and by the end of that period I felt I was moving the boat with authority and recovering quickly from each hard interval. Having logged some valuable rest this past week, I was feeling as fresh as I've ever felt in the middle of a five-kilometer race. Once I'd settled into my mid-race pace after the initial sprint off the starting line, it felt like a recovery interval. That gave me the confidence to throw in a 30-second surge every several minutes in the hope of increasing my lead on the racers behind me, knowing that I would have something left for the final dash to the finish line in the harbor.
Meanwhile, I was watching the race up front. As Chris and Mike approached the mouth of the harbor Chris appeared to have a solid boatlength on the Arkansan. Chris was a member of the U.S. wildwater team for a decade or so--"wildwater" is downriver racing through whitewater rapids--and I expect he was drawing heavily on that experience. Soon, however, they would be on the harbor's flatwater, and that's very much Mike's domain. (That's one of the things I've always loved about the OICK race, the way it brings together athletes from different paddling disciplines--whitewater specialists, flatwater specialists, open water specialists, sprinters, masters of endurance... you name it, they have raced here.)
I reached the harbor entrance myself a minute or so behind Mike and Chris, and as I rounded the southern tip of Mud Island I stole a glance over my left shoulder. I could make out only a white blur, but I knew it was Rick's boat or Kata's boat or both. Seconds later the finish buoys came into view some five or six hundred meters distant, and I began to sprint as hard as I could. I knew it would hurt, but not any worse than those sprints I'd done with Kata and other local paddlers out at Shelby Farms this month.
Mike did indeed outsprint Chris in the harbor, taking the overall victory by six seconds. An agonizing 66 seconds later I moved my own boat across the line for a satisfying third-place finish. I turned around just in time to see Rick claim fourth place, with Kata taking the overall female crown two seconds behind him. A half-minute later Memphian Jason Salomon and his daughter Ahava finished first among tandem kayaks.
Among the other notable finishers were tandem canoe winners Dale Burris and Don Walls. Dale is from Russellville, Arkansas, and Don lives in the neighboring town of Dover. Andy Capel of Sherwood, Arkansas, won the class for touring kayaks longer than 17'6", edging out Tim Schramm of Jackson, Tennessee, by less than one second. Memphian Tonya Tittle was the fastest female in that same class.
The complete results are posted here. As I mentioned before, the times were slow across the board today because of the wind and turbulent water. Mike Herbert's best time on the course is more than three minutes faster than his time today of 18 minutes, 53 seconds, for example. I, too, have produced a time more than three minutes faster than what I managed today (20:05).
But that's all just part of the fun. Having completed a good hard-fought contest, we carried our boats up the bank into Mississippi River Park for a post-race festival of live music and camaraderie, culminating in the awards ceremony. A few of us even indulged in the beer provided by one of our local breweries. I believe I speak for just about everybody involved as I thank the principals and staff of Outdoors, Inc., for carrying this wonderful event past the three-and-a-half decade mark.
Today's river level--13.5 feet on the Memphis gauge--was what I would call a very "average" level over all those years. The day was expected to be a steamy one, but thanks to some showers last night the temperature was surprisingly comfortable as we prepared to get started. There was a tradeoff, however: part of our relief from the heat was provided by a stiff south wind, and that same wind would make for choppy conditions and slow times on the race course.
More than 220 boats maneuvered into position at the starting line in the mouth of the Wolf River--possibly the highest turnout ever, I understand. I doubt anybody would have disagreed that the pre-race favorite was Mr. Mike Herbert of Rogers, Arkansas. A three-time Olympian and a three-time world championships medalist, Mike has a resume not too many people can match, and he continues to race at a high level in his fifties.
The gun went off, and sure enough Mike shot right to the front of the pack. But I knew he was not the only force to be reckoned with in today's field. The fastest starter was actually a 17-year-old Oklahoman named Garrett Wampler, an aspiring flatwater sprint racer. If this race had been entirely on flatwater I think Wampler might have left us all in the dust. But once we were out on the Mississippi it became painfully clear that his K1 was not a good boat for those sloppy waters. He stuck close to the bank and quickly fell off the pace, and I understand he later flipped. Still, I have filed his name away in my mind as one to watch for over the next two or three Olympic quadrennia.
Another fast starter was Chris Hipgrave of Bryson City, North Carolina. Chris is a guy I've known out on the race circuit for nearly twenty years, and when he's at his best I can't touch him, but in several races over the years I've finished tantalizingly close behind him. Today it quickly became apparent that he was in "can't touch him" form. He and Mike broke away from the rest of the field, and from where I sat it seemed Chris was really taking the fight to the Olympian.
By the end of the first kilometer I was alone in third place, but there was no time to rest on that laurel, for I knew people like Rick Carter and Kata Dismukes couldn't be far behind. Rick, who hails from South Carolina, has become something of a nemesis in the last several years with his wily racing tactics and his competitive tenacity. Kata, a resident of Memphis's eastern suburbs and the top female racer in this part of the country, has proven herself entirely capable of taking me down if I don't have my game in order.
So the pressure was on. But I have to say that I was feeling really, really good in my boat. Over the last month I had put in a steady diet of hard, fast pieces, and by the end of that period I felt I was moving the boat with authority and recovering quickly from each hard interval. Having logged some valuable rest this past week, I was feeling as fresh as I've ever felt in the middle of a five-kilometer race. Once I'd settled into my mid-race pace after the initial sprint off the starting line, it felt like a recovery interval. That gave me the confidence to throw in a 30-second surge every several minutes in the hope of increasing my lead on the racers behind me, knowing that I would have something left for the final dash to the finish line in the harbor.
Meanwhile, I was watching the race up front. As Chris and Mike approached the mouth of the harbor Chris appeared to have a solid boatlength on the Arkansan. Chris was a member of the U.S. wildwater team for a decade or so--"wildwater" is downriver racing through whitewater rapids--and I expect he was drawing heavily on that experience. Soon, however, they would be on the harbor's flatwater, and that's very much Mike's domain. (That's one of the things I've always loved about the OICK race, the way it brings together athletes from different paddling disciplines--whitewater specialists, flatwater specialists, open water specialists, sprinters, masters of endurance... you name it, they have raced here.)
I reached the harbor entrance myself a minute or so behind Mike and Chris, and as I rounded the southern tip of Mud Island I stole a glance over my left shoulder. I could make out only a white blur, but I knew it was Rick's boat or Kata's boat or both. Seconds later the finish buoys came into view some five or six hundred meters distant, and I began to sprint as hard as I could. I knew it would hurt, but not any worse than those sprints I'd done with Kata and other local paddlers out at Shelby Farms this month.
Mike did indeed outsprint Chris in the harbor, taking the overall victory by six seconds. An agonizing 66 seconds later I moved my own boat across the line for a satisfying third-place finish. I turned around just in time to see Rick claim fourth place, with Kata taking the overall female crown two seconds behind him. A half-minute later Memphian Jason Salomon and his daughter Ahava finished first among tandem kayaks.
Among the other notable finishers were tandem canoe winners Dale Burris and Don Walls. Dale is from Russellville, Arkansas, and Don lives in the neighboring town of Dover. Andy Capel of Sherwood, Arkansas, won the class for touring kayaks longer than 17'6", edging out Tim Schramm of Jackson, Tennessee, by less than one second. Memphian Tonya Tittle was the fastest female in that same class.
The complete results are posted here. As I mentioned before, the times were slow across the board today because of the wind and turbulent water. Mike Herbert's best time on the course is more than three minutes faster than his time today of 18 minutes, 53 seconds, for example. I, too, have produced a time more than three minutes faster than what I managed today (20:05).
But that's all just part of the fun. Having completed a good hard-fought contest, we carried our boats up the bank into Mississippi River Park for a post-race festival of live music and camaraderie, culminating in the awards ceremony. A few of us even indulged in the beer provided by one of our local breweries. I believe I speak for just about everybody involved as I thank the principals and staff of Outdoors, Inc., for carrying this wonderful event past the three-and-a-half decade mark.
Friday, June 16, 2017
Getting ready to race at Memphis
My brief visit to the beach is over, and I'm back home getting ready for tomorrow's race. Last time I checked there were over 200 boats signed up, with some very solid athletes entered in the race boat class.
The main objective for my time on the coast was rest, and I got that. Most of the paddling I did was some relaxed touring of Mississippi Sound in the vicinity of our rented house. Well, it actually wasn't entirely relaxed: on Monday there was some stormy weather in the region, and when I went out on the water with my niece and nephew that afternoon there was a pretty stiff wind from the southeast. My nephew flipped twice while trying to turn in the waves, and we discovered that a glue joint holding two pieces of my bilge pump had failed. My nephew was able to make the pump work by holding the pieces together with one hand while working the plunger with the other, but it was a slow process getting the water out of his boat. As I sat there holding his boat steady while he pumped, I worried as the wind blew us farther out into the sound toward higher seas where bailing would be more difficult. But my almost-15-year-old nephew did an admirable job of keeping his cool and patiently restoring his craft to a paddlable state.
The weather had calmed down completely by Wednesday morning and my niece and I paddled a mile and a half or so out into the sound. Along the way we encountered a pod of dolphins and at one point saw several of the mammals coming up for air less than fifty feet away.
The closest thing to a "training" paddle I did took place on Tuesday morning. I paddled for 60 minutes and did a set of eight 12-stroke sprints at two-minute intervals. The objective was to practice starts and to give my ATP-CP energy system some work.
I came on home Wednesday afternoon, and yesterday and today I did a few more 12-stroke sprints on my home water of the harbor.
It looks like the river level will be about 14 feet on the Memphis gauge tomorrow. That's not a bad level, all things considered. If I could order up any level I wanted for Race Day, I'd go with something around 20 feet: that's high enough to cover up the muddiest parts of the banks at the start and finish, but not high enough to lop a radical amount of distance off the course at the southern tip of Mud Island. Tomorrow I would expect a little bit of mud while putting in and taking out, but nothing too terrible.
Well, all that's left is to get some rest tonight, show up at the race site tomorrow, and do the best I can.
The main objective for my time on the coast was rest, and I got that. Most of the paddling I did was some relaxed touring of Mississippi Sound in the vicinity of our rented house. Well, it actually wasn't entirely relaxed: on Monday there was some stormy weather in the region, and when I went out on the water with my niece and nephew that afternoon there was a pretty stiff wind from the southeast. My nephew flipped twice while trying to turn in the waves, and we discovered that a glue joint holding two pieces of my bilge pump had failed. My nephew was able to make the pump work by holding the pieces together with one hand while working the plunger with the other, but it was a slow process getting the water out of his boat. As I sat there holding his boat steady while he pumped, I worried as the wind blew us farther out into the sound toward higher seas where bailing would be more difficult. But my almost-15-year-old nephew did an admirable job of keeping his cool and patiently restoring his craft to a paddlable state.
The weather had calmed down completely by Wednesday morning and my niece and I paddled a mile and a half or so out into the sound. Along the way we encountered a pod of dolphins and at one point saw several of the mammals coming up for air less than fifty feet away.
The closest thing to a "training" paddle I did took place on Tuesday morning. I paddled for 60 minutes and did a set of eight 12-stroke sprints at two-minute intervals. The objective was to practice starts and to give my ATP-CP energy system some work.
I came on home Wednesday afternoon, and yesterday and today I did a few more 12-stroke sprints on my home water of the harbor.
It looks like the river level will be about 14 feet on the Memphis gauge tomorrow. That's not a bad level, all things considered. If I could order up any level I wanted for Race Day, I'd go with something around 20 feet: that's high enough to cover up the muddiest parts of the banks at the start and finish, but not high enough to lop a radical amount of distance off the course at the southern tip of Mud Island. Tomorrow I would expect a little bit of mud while putting in and taking out, but nothing too terrible.
Well, all that's left is to get some rest tonight, show up at the race site tomorrow, and do the best I can.
Monday, June 12, 2017
Monday photo feature
The mouth of the Wolf River is a place I have been many, many times. From the marina in the harbor where I keep my boat, I have paddled up the Mississippi to this spot in sunny weather, overcast weather, stormy weather, hot weather, cold weather... you name it. Typically I am a lone paddler on these waters, or once in a while I might be joined by a companion or two.
But one day each year, this riverscape comes alive with hundreds of colorful kayaks and canoes, when the Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race starts right beneath those power lines. That day in 2017 is this Saturday. Get yourself registered and come experience the Memphis riverfront at its very best.
Photo by Teresa Faulk.
Massive decompression
I arrived on Dauphin Island on the Alabama Gulf Coast yesterday in the late afternoon. I'll be spending several days with my family here before I head back home for the big race at Memphis.
On top of the intense training I was doing, I was dealing with an out-of-the-boat issue that was causing me considerable stress over the last couple of weeks. I won't bore you with the details, but it came to a head over the weekend and forced me to delay my trip for a day. I think it is now resolved and I am looking forward to several days here at the beach doing a whole lot of nothing. I'll paddle my boat a little, swim a little, nap a little, read my book, enjoy the company of my niece and nephew... maybe I'll feel like a live human being again after a while.
In the boat I plan to do a few short (10-15 sec) sprints to polish my speed, and otherwise let my body recover and rest ahead of the race this Saturday. This morning there's a pretty big thunderstorm system moving in but maybe by this afternoon I'll find a good window for paddling.
On top of the intense training I was doing, I was dealing with an out-of-the-boat issue that was causing me considerable stress over the last couple of weeks. I won't bore you with the details, but it came to a head over the weekend and forced me to delay my trip for a day. I think it is now resolved and I am looking forward to several days here at the beach doing a whole lot of nothing. I'll paddle my boat a little, swim a little, nap a little, read my book, enjoy the company of my niece and nephew... maybe I'll feel like a live human being again after a while.
In the boat I plan to do a few short (10-15 sec) sprints to polish my speed, and otherwise let my body recover and rest ahead of the race this Saturday. This morning there's a pretty big thunderstorm system moving in but maybe by this afternoon I'll find a good window for paddling.
Thursday, June 8, 2017
Winding up the pre-OICK training block
On Tuesday Joe and I did an easy loop of the harbor, and once again it felt good to flush some fresh blood through my body after the hard work I'd done on Monday.
Yesterday I did the strength routine for the last time before the Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race a week from Saturday. It feels good to have a break from the strength work for a while.
This evening it was back out to Shelby Farms for another group workout on Patriot Lake. Once again we did four 500ish-meter sprints followed by a "fast lap" of the lake. It was tiring but I came away feeling good about my fitness, as I felt as strong at the end as I'd felt in the first piece.
Now it's time to get some rest and head into the race next Saturday feeling fresh and sharp. This weekend I'm heading down to Dauphin Island for my family's annual stay on the beach, and I'm looking forward to some relaxation and salt-water therapy.
Yesterday I did the strength routine for the last time before the Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race a week from Saturday. It feels good to have a break from the strength work for a while.
This evening it was back out to Shelby Farms for another group workout on Patriot Lake. Once again we did four 500ish-meter sprints followed by a "fast lap" of the lake. It was tiring but I came away feeling good about my fitness, as I felt as strong at the end as I'd felt in the first piece.
Now it's time to get some rest and head into the race next Saturday feeling fresh and sharp. This weekend I'm heading down to Dauphin Island for my family's annual stay on the beach, and I'm looking forward to some relaxation and salt-water therapy.
Monday, June 5, 2017
Monday photo feature
With the Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race less than two weeks away, it's time to take another look back at OICK races past.
Looking very young and svelte here are Memphians Kenny Allen (stern) and Jim Wilson (bow), who took fourth place in the men's tandem canoe cruising class in 1991. In that era there was no stronger class than this one, and fourth place was a very respectable finish.
The OICK race hasn't changed a whole lot since its inception in 1982, but there have been little changes here and there. The event's name might be the biggest: when this photo was taken, the race was actually known as The Great Mississippi River Canoe and Kayak Race. It was the first race of its kind on the lower Mississippi River, and that name was a good fit. Outdoors, Inc., didn't become the "title sponsor" until the mid to late 1990s even though it had been the entity putting the event on from the beginning.
The finish line used to be the Mud Island monorail bridge, so Jim and Kenny have at least another hundred meters to go in this photo. The finish line was relocated to its current location next to Mississippi River Park when the Interstate 40 Tennessee Welcome Center was constructed a few years later.
Photo by Katie Wilson.
Just a little more hard work to do
The end of the current hard training block is coming into view. The saying goes, "If it doesn't kill you, it'll make you stronger," and I guess we're putting that to the test.
On Saturday I paddled mostly steady for 60 minutes. I paddled both in the harbor and on the river, doing a couple of surges, but nothing extraordinary. As always, I practiced good strokes.
This morning I did another round of the current strength routine. I plan to do it for the last time Wednesday.
After that it was time to head down to the river. I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints, paddled up the Mississippi to the southern end of the Greenbelt Park, and then turned back downstream and commenced the day's workout. I did eight intervals of 75 seconds on, 45 seconds off, with each "on" interval done at sub-maximum intensity. It's basically a lactic tolerance workout. I rarely actually go lactic in these distance races I do, and that's why I do this workout only once or twice a year, but I'm hoping it might give me an edge on the 17th if I'm in a tight competition with somebody going into that last 500 meters in the harbor and I really have to hammer to the finish.
I came home from the river with that "satisfied" tired feeling. The last hard workout planned is another session this Thursday out at Patriot Lake with other local racers. After that I'll be tapering until race day with some short sprints and as much rest as possible.
On Saturday I paddled mostly steady for 60 minutes. I paddled both in the harbor and on the river, doing a couple of surges, but nothing extraordinary. As always, I practiced good strokes.
This morning I did another round of the current strength routine. I plan to do it for the last time Wednesday.
After that it was time to head down to the river. I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints, paddled up the Mississippi to the southern end of the Greenbelt Park, and then turned back downstream and commenced the day's workout. I did eight intervals of 75 seconds on, 45 seconds off, with each "on" interval done at sub-maximum intensity. It's basically a lactic tolerance workout. I rarely actually go lactic in these distance races I do, and that's why I do this workout only once or twice a year, but I'm hoping it might give me an edge on the 17th if I'm in a tight competition with somebody going into that last 500 meters in the harbor and I really have to hammer to the finish.
I came home from the river with that "satisfied" tired feeling. The last hard workout planned is another session this Thursday out at Patriot Lake with other local racers. After that I'll be tapering until race day with some short sprints and as much rest as possible.
Friday, June 2, 2017
Mustn't overtrain
That discomfort in my neck and the muscle-tension headaches I mentioned last week persisted a lot longer than normal. My intuition is that the headaches were brought on by stresses in this strength routine I've been doing. Several exercises are kind of hard on my shoulders, especially the "explosive" pushups.
Because of that, and because of the strain of Monday's hard workout and the tree-cutting and all, I was feeling pretty beat-up for a few days. It was a good reminder of the importance of getting enough rest to recover from all that.
I've heard many athletes talk about how they flirt with overtraining in the weeks leading up to a big competition. "Overtraining" is what happens when you don't allow your body adequate recovery from the workouts. It's during recovery that you actually "get in shape" because that's when your body fortifies itself to withstand the new stresses you put on it in those workouts. Without adequate recovery the body has no chance to complete that fortification and instead languishes in a damaged state. An athlete who has overtrained sees his performances get worse, not better.
And so, an athlete in the midst of a hard training block has to be careful, and careful is what I'm trying to be right now. The 5000-meter Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race, two weeks from Saturday, is the shortest race I'm likely to do this year; it's too long to be an all-out sprint, but I'll be paddling at a high level of intensity for the better part of 20 minutes. And so my training right now includes a whole lot of short- to middle-distance pieces done as fast as I can do them. With the strength training I'm also doing, I'm good for a couple such workouts in the space of a week. The rest of the time I need to be disciplined about getting my rest; the storm-damage-cleanup responsibility hasn't helped with that.
But that's all settling down now, and I'm feeling a bit better just in the last couple of days. The aches in my head and neck seem to have eased up. I think the paddling I did with Joe on Tuesday was a big help: we just did an easy, relaxed loop of the harbor, and by the time it was over I felt I'd done just what the doctor ordered.
By yesterday afternoon I was feeling ready for another intense session in the boat, and this time I drove out to Shelby Farms to join about nine other local paddlers for some 500-meter sprints on Patriot Lake. My stiffest competitor would likely be Kata Dismukes, one of the top female racers in this part of the country, whom I don't see that much because we live on opposite sides of town and train in different places. Jason Salomon and his daughter Ahava would also be pushing me in their tandem surf ski.
We did four sprints--apparently the buoys were set so that the distance was more like 495 meters than a full 500--and my times were all in the 2:10 to 2:15 range. I was a narrow winner over Kata in each one. The recovery interval was however long it took everybody to get back up to the line--about five minutes, I think. That was just enough time that I felt ready to go hard in the next one.
After the sprints we did an up-tempo lap of the lake. The distance for a lap is just under two miles, and we didn't go as hard as we would in an actual two-mile race, but the pace was somewhere approaching anaerobic threshold. Whatever the case, it felt easy after doing those intense sprints. That's a state of fitness I'm always striving for, where the body feels like it's getting a break whenever I'm not surging in a race.
I did a round of the current strength routine today and plan to do it again Monday and Wednesday. Then I'll stop the strength work until after the June 17 race. My paddling will be relaxed over the weekend, and then I'll do one more hard workout in the middle of next week before I begin my taper. In between those activities, I'll be looking to recover from them with rest, some stretching, good nutrition, and good hydration.
Because of that, and because of the strain of Monday's hard workout and the tree-cutting and all, I was feeling pretty beat-up for a few days. It was a good reminder of the importance of getting enough rest to recover from all that.
I've heard many athletes talk about how they flirt with overtraining in the weeks leading up to a big competition. "Overtraining" is what happens when you don't allow your body adequate recovery from the workouts. It's during recovery that you actually "get in shape" because that's when your body fortifies itself to withstand the new stresses you put on it in those workouts. Without adequate recovery the body has no chance to complete that fortification and instead languishes in a damaged state. An athlete who has overtrained sees his performances get worse, not better.
And so, an athlete in the midst of a hard training block has to be careful, and careful is what I'm trying to be right now. The 5000-meter Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race, two weeks from Saturday, is the shortest race I'm likely to do this year; it's too long to be an all-out sprint, but I'll be paddling at a high level of intensity for the better part of 20 minutes. And so my training right now includes a whole lot of short- to middle-distance pieces done as fast as I can do them. With the strength training I'm also doing, I'm good for a couple such workouts in the space of a week. The rest of the time I need to be disciplined about getting my rest; the storm-damage-cleanup responsibility hasn't helped with that.
But that's all settling down now, and I'm feeling a bit better just in the last couple of days. The aches in my head and neck seem to have eased up. I think the paddling I did with Joe on Tuesday was a big help: we just did an easy, relaxed loop of the harbor, and by the time it was over I felt I'd done just what the doctor ordered.
By yesterday afternoon I was feeling ready for another intense session in the boat, and this time I drove out to Shelby Farms to join about nine other local paddlers for some 500-meter sprints on Patriot Lake. My stiffest competitor would likely be Kata Dismukes, one of the top female racers in this part of the country, whom I don't see that much because we live on opposite sides of town and train in different places. Jason Salomon and his daughter Ahava would also be pushing me in their tandem surf ski.
We did four sprints--apparently the buoys were set so that the distance was more like 495 meters than a full 500--and my times were all in the 2:10 to 2:15 range. I was a narrow winner over Kata in each one. The recovery interval was however long it took everybody to get back up to the line--about five minutes, I think. That was just enough time that I felt ready to go hard in the next one.
After the sprints we did an up-tempo lap of the lake. The distance for a lap is just under two miles, and we didn't go as hard as we would in an actual two-mile race, but the pace was somewhere approaching anaerobic threshold. Whatever the case, it felt easy after doing those intense sprints. That's a state of fitness I'm always striving for, where the body feels like it's getting a break whenever I'm not surging in a race.
I did a round of the current strength routine today and plan to do it again Monday and Wednesday. Then I'll stop the strength work until after the June 17 race. My paddling will be relaxed over the weekend, and then I'll do one more hard workout in the middle of next week before I begin my taper. In between those activities, I'll be looking to recover from them with rest, some stretching, good nutrition, and good hydration.
Monday, May 29, 2017
Monday photo feature
Here's another photo from the Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race archives. The year is 2012, and Phil Capel (left) and Mike Herbert are beaming in the moments after the finish. The 2017 edition of this event is less than three weeks away.
An energy crisis in more ways than one
I'm just now catching up with the outside world after having no electricity at my house for some 36 hours. A pretty violent storm moved through the Memphis area Saturday evening and knocked out power for about 188,000 homes, according to our local utility provider. I do not have one of those new-fangled telephones with a cellular data plan, so I rely on my electric-powered wi-fi router to move about in cyberspace.
I paddled for 60 minutes Saturday morning and felt incredibly tired in the boat. That listless, lethargic feeling persisted for the rest of the day. I had a workout scheduled for Sunday but I thought about pushing it back a day to allow myself a bit more rest.
Then the storm happened, and I learned that a big pecan tree had fallen in the back yard of a rental property I own. It didn't hurt the house, fortunately, but I did have a big mess to clean up. And so I spent yesterday morning cutting up the tree with my chainsaw. It was neither a workout nor rest. It was just... work.
This morning I got back to business, doing a round of the current strength routine and then heading down to the river. I warmed up, did three 8-stroke sprints, paddled up the Mississippi to the mouth of the Wolf River, and did my "start-to-boat-ramp" workout, just like I had done back on the sixth of May. This time I started each piece six minutes after the previous piece; that tightened my recovery interval a bit, but not as tight as it was during my workout on Thursday. I tried to paddle back up to the start in quick order so that I would have 30 seconds or so to sit at the starting line and await the start, just like on race day.
The workout today felt a lot more taxing than it did on May 6. I was tired from the strength workout and I'm sure I was feeling yesterday's logging work as well. I'm hoping for a good night's sleep tonight.
I paddled for 60 minutes Saturday morning and felt incredibly tired in the boat. That listless, lethargic feeling persisted for the rest of the day. I had a workout scheduled for Sunday but I thought about pushing it back a day to allow myself a bit more rest.
Then the storm happened, and I learned that a big pecan tree had fallen in the back yard of a rental property I own. It didn't hurt the house, fortunately, but I did have a big mess to clean up. And so I spent yesterday morning cutting up the tree with my chainsaw. It was neither a workout nor rest. It was just... work.
This morning I got back to business, doing a round of the current strength routine and then heading down to the river. I warmed up, did three 8-stroke sprints, paddled up the Mississippi to the mouth of the Wolf River, and did my "start-to-boat-ramp" workout, just like I had done back on the sixth of May. This time I started each piece six minutes after the previous piece; that tightened my recovery interval a bit, but not as tight as it was during my workout on Thursday. I tried to paddle back up to the start in quick order so that I would have 30 seconds or so to sit at the starting line and await the start, just like on race day.
The workout today felt a lot more taxing than it did on May 6. I was tired from the strength workout and I'm sure I was feeling yesterday's logging work as well. I'm hoping for a good night's sleep tonight.
Friday, May 26, 2017
Life can be such a pain in the neck
I woke up Monday with one of those awful cricks in my neck and I've been coping with the discomfort all week. The neck is slowly getting better but I have a lingering headache that I think is related to muscle tension. Whenever something like this happens it's almost never because of my canoe and kayak training. I think this episode was brought on by some home-upkeep labor I've been doing. I've been repairing some peeling paint in my house, scraping and sanding the wall in preparation for a new coat, and it's put my body in some awkward positions, especially when my arms are up over my head. I think I withstood stuff like that better when I was younger.
Aside from that it's been a decent week of training. I'm in my last intense block before the Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race and I'm doing a couple of hard sessions in the boat each week along with the current strength routine.
Having done a couple of steady 80-minute sessions Monday and Tuesday, I was ready to go hard again yesterday. The plan was to do three one-mile pieces, but when I got down to the river I realized I'd left my G.P.S. device at home. So for Plan B I picked a course in the harbor for which I have a well-documented history: the southern edge of the Hernando DeSoto Bridge to the southern edge of the Auction Avenue (A.W. Willis) bridge. This stretch is about 750 meters in length, and my best time ever for it is a second or two under three minutes. I decided to do four pieces, seeking a pace I could sustain over all four. And I was pretty pleased with how it went: my times were 3:08, 3:08, 3:09, and 3:09.
I started a new piece every eight minutes. That meant that each time I finished a piece I had just under five minutes to get myself back to the HDB to start the next one. I had to hoof it a little bit to do that, and so my recovery interval was a bit more demanding than usual. But I held up just fine--it didn't take more than 30 seconds or so for my heart rate to settle down from the piece I'd just finished.
Aside from that it's been a decent week of training. I'm in my last intense block before the Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race and I'm doing a couple of hard sessions in the boat each week along with the current strength routine.
Having done a couple of steady 80-minute sessions Monday and Tuesday, I was ready to go hard again yesterday. The plan was to do three one-mile pieces, but when I got down to the river I realized I'd left my G.P.S. device at home. So for Plan B I picked a course in the harbor for which I have a well-documented history: the southern edge of the Hernando DeSoto Bridge to the southern edge of the Auction Avenue (A.W. Willis) bridge. This stretch is about 750 meters in length, and my best time ever for it is a second or two under three minutes. I decided to do four pieces, seeking a pace I could sustain over all four. And I was pretty pleased with how it went: my times were 3:08, 3:08, 3:09, and 3:09.
I started a new piece every eight minutes. That meant that each time I finished a piece I had just under five minutes to get myself back to the HDB to start the next one. I had to hoof it a little bit to do that, and so my recovery interval was a bit more demanding than usual. But I held up just fine--it didn't take more than 30 seconds or so for my heart rate to settle down from the piece I'd just finished.
Monday, May 22, 2017
Monday photo feature
With the Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race now less than four weeks away, I'm thinking I'll share a few photos from the OICK races of yesteryear.
This one's from 2007. Top finishers Robert Clegg, Mike Herbert, and Pete Greene are already in the harbor and paddling toward the finish line; what you see here is the rest of us angling toward the harbor entrance. That's me in the white boat, with Shawn Wilbur of Spanish Fort, Alabama, hot on my tail over my left shoulder. Many "races within the race" are going on behind us. Photo by Willarts Photography.
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