I got up bright and early yesterday morning to hit the road. My destination was the kind of race I wish we could have a few more of. The "Spring Time Sprint" was just two and a half hours away at Batesville, Arkansas. The registration fee was 20 dollars. For a price like that there would be no live music or beer garden or racers on the podium posing for the cameras with oversized novelty checks, but we would be served hot dogs for lunch after the race. Not every canoe and kayak race has to be a big splashy production with a rockin' afterparty. After all, the main thing we racers are interested in is the race... Right?
The attendance wasn't more than 25 or 30 racers, primarily because the event wasn't heavily advertised. There was no website or online registration. I learned of it through the grapevine, having raced for years with the Ozark-region paddlers who were "in the loop."
The race course would start and finish where Poke Bayou flows into the White River. Racers would paddle up the White for four miles, round a buoy, and come back downriver to the finish. As I said in my last post, I wanted to use the race to work on some specific things, especially the speed I'll need in the big race I'm going to next month. And so once the race had started I found myself sharing the lead with a USCA-style "pro boat" C2 paddled by Don Walls and Dale Burris. Don and Dale have piled up an impressive collection of national titles over the years, most recently the Masters title at the USCA Nationals up at Dubuque, Iowa, last summer.
My plan was to spend the upstream leg of the race saving energy by riding Don and Dale's wake as much as possible. Of course, I did take a few pulls myself, because that's what a gentleman does. I hope their big old canoe was able to get as good a draft on my wake as I was on theirs.
We climbed upriver first on the river-left side, then on the river-right, staying toward the insides of bends to avoid the strongest current. I began to open a gap on Don and Dale about 500 meters shy of the buoy turn, and when I reached the buoy I was maybe 40 meters ahead of them. Now it was time for my workout: I began to do a series of 20-stroke sprints, with recovery intervals in between of 40 strokes; I tried to keep this recovery interval as close to a normal race pace as I could. I was hoping to extend my lead on Dale and Don, but every time I looked over my shoulder they were holding steady within less than a hundred meters. I could still hear Dale every time he yelled "Hut!" to switch paddling sides.
Down the river we went. As fatigue set in for real I lengthened my recovery interval to 50 strokes, then 60. But I maintained my lead and got back to Poke Bayou for the overall win. Dale and Don finished a short time later, and it was then that I learned that they were throwing in sprints of their own. I wasn't the only one using this event for some training.
We enjoyed our hot dog lunch and got our awards, and then I headed back to Memphis. The weather had been pleasant, if humid, in the morning, but by the time I was driving home the oppressive heat was beating down. The temperature display in my car said it was as high as 97 degrees Fahrenheit as I crossed the Arkansas delta.
A front moved through overnight and today promised to be cooler and much less humid. Having done two substantial workouts in the previous three days, I was ready for a recovery paddle. I went down to the riverfront and paddled pretty easy for 60 minutes. A stiff north breeze was blowing, but at this time of year that's mostly a nice thing. Anytime I was paddling into the wind I tried to relax and not fight it.
Now it's time to settle into a few weeks of good consistent training. I plan to get a new strength routine going this week, work on my speed and lactic endurance a couple of times a week, observe a healthy diet, and get good rest.
Sunday, June 3, 2018
Friday, June 1, 2018
Regrouping
I'm feeling quite a bit better as this week draws to a close. I gave myself a break from strength work this week and tried to get good nights of sleep and settle back into good dietary habits. I paddled a loop of the harbor with Joe on Tuesday but otherwise spent the week dealing with a long list of chores in my non-athletic life.
Maybe I had a virus or something, or maybe I didn't; I definitely think my fatigue was part mental, stemming from all the recent traveling, the mountain of work I've been facing in my professional life, and some rather tight finances with a major road trip coming up in July.
It's prompted me to think carefully about the approximately six weeks between now and my departure for the Pacific Northwest. I've decided to keep my racing and travel schedule as simple as possible, to avoid exhaustion and to save money and to focus on good quality training and recovery here at home. I plan to make the two-and-a-half hour trip to Batesville, Arkansas, this weekend for the race on the White River there, but I'm going to skip the race up near Louisville on June 9 that I'd been considering attending.
Yesterday I was feeling ready to give Sunday's aborted workout another try. I had meetings to attend in the morning, so it was mid-afternoon when I finally got down to the riverfront, and once there I realized I'd forgotten both my wristwatch and my G.P.S. device. I panicked for a moment, but then it occurred to me that it might not be the worst thing to do a workout without these things. I was probably still not ready to produce optimum speeds at this point, and I could use this workout to get my heart rate up into the desired zone without the G.P.S. on board to suggest that I had "failed." Lacking my watch, I decided to do 50 strokes (on one side) per piece, as 50 strokes is in the neighborhood of what I typically do in one minute.
I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints, and then commenced the workout. Not wanting to push my luck too much, I opted for eight pieces rather than ten, and I didn't worry about a strict recovery interval, instead starting each new piece when I felt ready. My guess is that my recoveries were between three and four minutes, on average.
The workout went pretty well, though it was a tough one. The last three pieces were particularly painful. As I fought through them, I feared that maybe doing such a workout was a mistake considering my questionable health. Then again, a workout like this is supposed to hurt some, especially when it's above 90 degrees Fahrenheit like it was yesterday afternoon.
I'm reassured by my body's response in the aftermath: last night I was plenty tired and ready for a full night's sleep, but not feeling any worse than usual after a set of long hard sprints. Today I'm feeling the sort of fatigue that some rest should take care of. I plan to treat tomorrow's race as a workout and then get a good recovery for the next couple of days, settling into what I hope will be six weeks of good-quality training with plenty of rest.
Maybe I had a virus or something, or maybe I didn't; I definitely think my fatigue was part mental, stemming from all the recent traveling, the mountain of work I've been facing in my professional life, and some rather tight finances with a major road trip coming up in July.
It's prompted me to think carefully about the approximately six weeks between now and my departure for the Pacific Northwest. I've decided to keep my racing and travel schedule as simple as possible, to avoid exhaustion and to save money and to focus on good quality training and recovery here at home. I plan to make the two-and-a-half hour trip to Batesville, Arkansas, this weekend for the race on the White River there, but I'm going to skip the race up near Louisville on June 9 that I'd been considering attending.
Yesterday I was feeling ready to give Sunday's aborted workout another try. I had meetings to attend in the morning, so it was mid-afternoon when I finally got down to the riverfront, and once there I realized I'd forgotten both my wristwatch and my G.P.S. device. I panicked for a moment, but then it occurred to me that it might not be the worst thing to do a workout without these things. I was probably still not ready to produce optimum speeds at this point, and I could use this workout to get my heart rate up into the desired zone without the G.P.S. on board to suggest that I had "failed." Lacking my watch, I decided to do 50 strokes (on one side) per piece, as 50 strokes is in the neighborhood of what I typically do in one minute.
I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints, and then commenced the workout. Not wanting to push my luck too much, I opted for eight pieces rather than ten, and I didn't worry about a strict recovery interval, instead starting each new piece when I felt ready. My guess is that my recoveries were between three and four minutes, on average.
The workout went pretty well, though it was a tough one. The last three pieces were particularly painful. As I fought through them, I feared that maybe doing such a workout was a mistake considering my questionable health. Then again, a workout like this is supposed to hurt some, especially when it's above 90 degrees Fahrenheit like it was yesterday afternoon.
I'm reassured by my body's response in the aftermath: last night I was plenty tired and ready for a full night's sleep, but not feeling any worse than usual after a set of long hard sprints. Today I'm feeling the sort of fatigue that some rest should take care of. I plan to treat tomorrow's race as a workout and then get a good recovery for the next couple of days, settling into what I hope will be six weeks of good-quality training with plenty of rest.
Monday, May 28, 2018
Monday photo feature
As we prepared to depart Dauphin Island Saturday morning, we had this visitor on our deck. I was surprised how close I was able to get to snap the picture.
Sunday, May 27, 2018
Post-vacation blues
It was a lovely week down on the Gulf Coast. I got some training in, of course, but the best part was the chance to relax and escape that most pernicious first-world problem known as the daily to-do list.
Most of the paddling I do down there is in Mississippi Sound because that's what's out the back door of our rental house. But on Thursday I decided to do something different. I put my boat on the car and drove to the east end of Dauphin Island, and embarked on a crossing of the mouth of Mobile Bay over to Fort Morgan.
The wind was blowing from the southeast, so I was paddling mostly into the wind on the way over to Fort Morgan and would have mostly a following sea on the way back. I tried to pace myself on the outbound leg so I would have some energy for downwind practice coming back. The waves coming at me looked as though they would give me some good rides later.
After a short break on the beach at Fort Morgan, I began the return trip. I did manage a few rides on the waves, but none lasted longer than a few seconds, and I had to sprint as hard as I possibly could for each one. Not wanting to exhaust myself more than a mile offshore, I had to be very choosy about what waves to go after. I got bolder once I was back within a quarter-mile of Dauphin Island, but again, I was expending a lot of energy for very limited rewards.
It was a sobering lesson in the kind of conditioning required for downwind races like the one I plan to attend in the Pacific Northwest in two months. A racer spends basically the entire race doing one hard sprint after another, and if he doesn't have consistent success catching rides he will blow up (bonk). I have a feeling a more elite-level ocean racer would have gotten much more out of those waves than I did Thursday... I remember when I was racing slalom back in the 1990s, I always got the feeling that the top racers were seeing things I was simply not able to see, and I suspect the same is true in downwind surf ski racing.
I felt tired all day Friday. I managed to get in a round of the strength routine in the morning, but I nearly let the day go by without paddling until my nephew Ben agreed to go out with me for a little while just before suppertime.
I spent yesterday driving home. The drive didn't seem nearly as bad as the trip down six days earlier, but in the last hour, as I penetrated the grim southeastern outskirts of Memphis, I was feeling tired and light-headed and very ready to be out of the car. When I finally got home I made some supper, read my book for a while, and turned in early. I thought a good night's sleep would cure my ills, but I woke up this morning continuing to feel weak and low on energy, and my head was throbbing.
I went down to the river planning to do ten one-minute sprints with two minutes recovery in between; I had my G.P.S. device and planned to shoot for 8.4 miles per hour during the sprints, as I had calculated that to be the average speed to cover my 450-meter course in the harbor in two minutes. But as soon as I was in the boat I felt awful. I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints, hoping that would make me feel better, but once I commenced my workout I struggled mightily to maintain 8.4 mph. I gave it up after five sprints.
I wonder if I've come down with some sort of bug. I don't really feel sick, but something has drained my energy. My diet in the last week hasn't been the greatest: heavy on seafood, light on vegetables. Whatever the case, this is frustrating because one is supposed to return from vacation feeling rested. I may have to take it easy for a while and hope my body rights itself, and that's a hard decision to make when there are competitions in my future that will require a higher level of fitness than I've currently got.
Most of the paddling I do down there is in Mississippi Sound because that's what's out the back door of our rental house. But on Thursday I decided to do something different. I put my boat on the car and drove to the east end of Dauphin Island, and embarked on a crossing of the mouth of Mobile Bay over to Fort Morgan.
The wind was blowing from the southeast, so I was paddling mostly into the wind on the way over to Fort Morgan and would have mostly a following sea on the way back. I tried to pace myself on the outbound leg so I would have some energy for downwind practice coming back. The waves coming at me looked as though they would give me some good rides later.
After a short break on the beach at Fort Morgan, I began the return trip. I did manage a few rides on the waves, but none lasted longer than a few seconds, and I had to sprint as hard as I possibly could for each one. Not wanting to exhaust myself more than a mile offshore, I had to be very choosy about what waves to go after. I got bolder once I was back within a quarter-mile of Dauphin Island, but again, I was expending a lot of energy for very limited rewards.
It was a sobering lesson in the kind of conditioning required for downwind races like the one I plan to attend in the Pacific Northwest in two months. A racer spends basically the entire race doing one hard sprint after another, and if he doesn't have consistent success catching rides he will blow up (bonk). I have a feeling a more elite-level ocean racer would have gotten much more out of those waves than I did Thursday... I remember when I was racing slalom back in the 1990s, I always got the feeling that the top racers were seeing things I was simply not able to see, and I suspect the same is true in downwind surf ski racing.
I felt tired all day Friday. I managed to get in a round of the strength routine in the morning, but I nearly let the day go by without paddling until my nephew Ben agreed to go out with me for a little while just before suppertime.
I spent yesterday driving home. The drive didn't seem nearly as bad as the trip down six days earlier, but in the last hour, as I penetrated the grim southeastern outskirts of Memphis, I was feeling tired and light-headed and very ready to be out of the car. When I finally got home I made some supper, read my book for a while, and turned in early. I thought a good night's sleep would cure my ills, but I woke up this morning continuing to feel weak and low on energy, and my head was throbbing.
I went down to the river planning to do ten one-minute sprints with two minutes recovery in between; I had my G.P.S. device and planned to shoot for 8.4 miles per hour during the sprints, as I had calculated that to be the average speed to cover my 450-meter course in the harbor in two minutes. But as soon as I was in the boat I felt awful. I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints, hoping that would make me feel better, but once I commenced my workout I struggled mightily to maintain 8.4 mph. I gave it up after five sprints.
I wonder if I've come down with some sort of bug. I don't really feel sick, but something has drained my energy. My diet in the last week hasn't been the greatest: heavy on seafood, light on vegetables. Whatever the case, this is frustrating because one is supposed to return from vacation feeling rested. I may have to take it easy for a while and hope my body rights itself, and that's a hard decision to make when there are competitions in my future that will require a higher level of fitness than I've currently got.
Wednesday, May 23, 2018
At the beach
I spent most of Monday lying around like an absolute slug. "Decompression," the hip people call it. I got out of bed around 8 AM (for me, that's really sleeping in), drank some coffee, sat on our deck and gazed out over Mississippi Sound, read my book, had some lunch, took a nap...
By mid afternoon I decided I should finally grind the gears into motion a little bit, and I managed to get through a round of the strength routine. Then I put my boat in the water and paddled easy for a half hour or so. I actually felt better after doing these things than I'd felt before.
By yesterday I had some pep back in my step. I got in the boat and paddled for 70 minutes. After warming up for 10 minutes and doing three 8-stroke sprints, I embarked on a workout that I hope will get my long sprints more up to speed: ten 1-minute sprints at two-minute intervals. By the time I started doing this workout I was out past the Dauphin Island Bridge that carries highway 193 over from the mainland. There was enough wind to create some decent-sized waves, and a big cabin cruiser came though trailing some huge wakes of its own. So I was doing my workout in some fairly rough conditions. I was reminded of the differences between paddling into the waves and paddling with a "following sea"--the latter is quite a bit trickier as far as balance and control is concerned. I definitely need to get a surf rudder for my boat before the Gorge Downwind Championships in July--I normally use a calm-water rudder.
Yesterday's workout was a premeditated, "organized" sort of thing. I'll probably do one more such workout later this week. For the rest of the week I have resolved to "play" in my boat and do whatever I feel like doing. If any decent downwind conditions present themselves and I'm in a mood to get out in them, I will. If I'm feeling tired and want to do a short, easy paddle, I will. If any of my sister's kids wants to paddle, I'll take him or her out.
This morning I did another round of the strength routine and then went out for what I thought would be a fun "play" workout: the wind had picked up and it looked like there might be some good waves out in Mississippi Sound. But once I was paddling away from our rental house I could tell the conditions were dying down. I paddled maybe a mile and a half offshore and there wasn't much doing, so I turned around and went back. Epic surf is one thing for which the Gulf Coast is not famous.
This afternoon I walked across to the Gulf side of the island and took a swim at the beach. The aqua-therapy felt good.
By mid afternoon I decided I should finally grind the gears into motion a little bit, and I managed to get through a round of the strength routine. Then I put my boat in the water and paddled easy for a half hour or so. I actually felt better after doing these things than I'd felt before.
By yesterday I had some pep back in my step. I got in the boat and paddled for 70 minutes. After warming up for 10 minutes and doing three 8-stroke sprints, I embarked on a workout that I hope will get my long sprints more up to speed: ten 1-minute sprints at two-minute intervals. By the time I started doing this workout I was out past the Dauphin Island Bridge that carries highway 193 over from the mainland. There was enough wind to create some decent-sized waves, and a big cabin cruiser came though trailing some huge wakes of its own. So I was doing my workout in some fairly rough conditions. I was reminded of the differences between paddling into the waves and paddling with a "following sea"--the latter is quite a bit trickier as far as balance and control is concerned. I definitely need to get a surf rudder for my boat before the Gorge Downwind Championships in July--I normally use a calm-water rudder.
Yesterday's workout was a premeditated, "organized" sort of thing. I'll probably do one more such workout later this week. For the rest of the week I have resolved to "play" in my boat and do whatever I feel like doing. If any decent downwind conditions present themselves and I'm in a mood to get out in them, I will. If I'm feeling tired and want to do a short, easy paddle, I will. If any of my sister's kids wants to paddle, I'll take him or her out.
This morning I did another round of the strength routine and then went out for what I thought would be a fun "play" workout: the wind had picked up and it looked like there might be some good waves out in Mississippi Sound. But once I was paddling away from our rental house I could tell the conditions were dying down. I paddled maybe a mile and a half offshore and there wasn't much doing, so I turned around and went back. Epic surf is one thing for which the Gulf Coast is not famous.
This afternoon I walked across to the Gulf side of the island and took a swim at the beach. The aqua-therapy felt good.
Monday, May 21, 2018
Monday photo feature
Last year my nephew Ben put my deep-water rescue skills to the test when he flipped his boat in Mississippi Sound off Dauphin Island on the Alabama Gulf Coast. In this photo we have gotten him back in the boat, and I'm holding him steady while he operates the bilge pump.
I am now back at Dauphin Island: my mother and I and my sister's family take a little vacation here each year about this time. I arrived down here late yesterday, so today is my first full day. I hope to do some more paddling with my sister's kids, though it'll be fine with me if we all stay upright.
A change in latitude
It was a hot weekend in Memphis, but it wasn't bad yet Saturday morning when I went downtown to paddle. I was tired from the sprints I'd done on Friday, but I still got in three 8-stroke sprints just to work on the motor skills for paddling fast. I spent the rest of the 60-minute session doing a steady loop out on the Mississippi.
Yesterday, instead of paddling, I drove my car. By the end of the day I had joined my family for a little beach vacation down at Dauphin Island, Alabama. I've probably endured more horrible drives than yesterday's in my time, but right now I can't remember any. I'm not sure why yesterday's drive seemed so bad--there were no traffic snarls or anything like that. I wasn't feeling all that well physically and I guess I just wanted the trip to be over. All I know is that when I finally arrived I was one exhausted, stressed-out human being. Oh well... now I'm down here with no particular responsibilities the rest of the week.
Yesterday, instead of paddling, I drove my car. By the end of the day I had joined my family for a little beach vacation down at Dauphin Island, Alabama. I've probably endured more horrible drives than yesterday's in my time, but right now I can't remember any. I'm not sure why yesterday's drive seemed so bad--there were no traffic snarls or anything like that. I wasn't feeling all that well physically and I guess I just wanted the trip to be over. All I know is that when I finally arrived I was one exhausted, stressed-out human being. Oh well... now I'm down here with no particular responsibilities the rest of the week.
Friday, May 18, 2018
Time to start getting faster
By Tuesday morning my shoulder was feeling much better, and it felt fine when I paddled a loop of the harbor with Joe. We saw one rather adorable sign of the mating season: a family of Canada geese. An adult couple was paddling around the marina with its five newborn goslings.
I love our harbor.
It's taken me most of this week to get fully recovered from my taxing experience on the Kentucky River. I did the strength routine on Monday, Wednesday, and today and generally tried to get back into normal training mode.
The time of year for Thursday Evening Sprints has arrived, and I was hoping to join the group out at Shelby Farms yesterday. But stormy weather and conflicts for other participants scuttled that idea. So today I went down to the riverfront planning to do four sprints over the 450-meter stretch of the harbor between the south edge of the monorail bridge and the south edge of the Hernando DeSoto Bridge.
After warming up and doing three 8-stroke sprints, I carried out this workout. The recovery interval was five minutes, during which I paddled back to my starting position at the monorail bridge.
And what did I learn? I learned that my speed needs some work. At the peak of my form last summer I was breaking two minutes for all four of these sprints, but today my times were 2:03, 2:05, 2:06, and 2:07. (For a full 500 meters, this would be 2:17, 2:19, 2:20, and 2:21.) I felt a bit tense in the boat, not particularly relaxed. And I didn't have that higher gear that I feel like I have when I'm at my best; my only gears today seemed to be Slow and Slower.
But there's no reason to mope about it. Getting faster is a process, and as long as I stay healthy and get in some consistent workouts, I should enjoy the satisfaction of faster times in the coming weeks.
I love our harbor.
It's taken me most of this week to get fully recovered from my taxing experience on the Kentucky River. I did the strength routine on Monday, Wednesday, and today and generally tried to get back into normal training mode.
The time of year for Thursday Evening Sprints has arrived, and I was hoping to join the group out at Shelby Farms yesterday. But stormy weather and conflicts for other participants scuttled that idea. So today I went down to the riverfront planning to do four sprints over the 450-meter stretch of the harbor between the south edge of the monorail bridge and the south edge of the Hernando DeSoto Bridge.
After warming up and doing three 8-stroke sprints, I carried out this workout. The recovery interval was five minutes, during which I paddled back to my starting position at the monorail bridge.
And what did I learn? I learned that my speed needs some work. At the peak of my form last summer I was breaking two minutes for all four of these sprints, but today my times were 2:03, 2:05, 2:06, and 2:07. (For a full 500 meters, this would be 2:17, 2:19, 2:20, and 2:21.) I felt a bit tense in the boat, not particularly relaxed. And I didn't have that higher gear that I feel like I have when I'm at my best; my only gears today seemed to be Slow and Slower.
But there's no reason to mope about it. Getting faster is a process, and as long as I stay healthy and get in some consistent workouts, I should enjoy the satisfaction of faster times in the coming weeks.
Tuesday, May 15, 2018
Race schedule update
So, what's next? Well, in the month of June I have two races on the schedule and I hope to make it to at least one of them, if not both. The one on the 2nd is only a couple of hours from me; I'd be likely to see a lot of the same people I saw this past weekend at the one on the 9th.
June
2 Batesville Canoe Race. White River, Batesville, Arkansas. An 8-mile up-and-back course on a Class I river.
9 Taylorsville Lake Paddle Battle. Taylorsville Lake, Taylorsville, Kentucky. A 10-mile flatwater race. Register
July
7 The Lovely Laurel River Lake Paddle Blast. Laurel River Lake, Corbin, Kentucky. A 10-mile flatwater race. Register
16-21 Gorge Downwind Championships. Columbia River, Hood River, Oregon. A race for surf skis and outrigger canoes in the legendary downwind conditions of the Columbia River Gorge.
August
4 The Paddle Grapple. Fontana Reservoir near Bryson City, North Carolina. A 6-mile flatwater race. Register
9-12 U.S. Canoe Association National Championships. Onondaga Lake and Erie Canal, Syracuse, New York. Marathon races in a variety of boat classes sanctioned by the USCA.
September
1 Big River Regional. Mississippi River, Baton Rouge, Louisiana. 13 miles down the largest river in North America.
8 Lower Atchafalaya Sprints. Atchafalaya River, Patterson, Louisiana. A series of 3-mile races on flatwater. Register
22 Gator Bait Race. Barnett Reservoir outside Jackson, Mississippi. A 5.5-mile flatwater race. Register
29 River Rat Paddle Challenge. Ouachita River at Monroe, Louisiana. 6.5 miles on a Class I river.
June
2 Batesville Canoe Race. White River, Batesville, Arkansas. An 8-mile up-and-back course on a Class I river.
9 Taylorsville Lake Paddle Battle. Taylorsville Lake, Taylorsville, Kentucky. A 10-mile flatwater race. Register
July
7 The Lovely Laurel River Lake Paddle Blast. Laurel River Lake, Corbin, Kentucky. A 10-mile flatwater race. Register
16-21 Gorge Downwind Championships. Columbia River, Hood River, Oregon. A race for surf skis and outrigger canoes in the legendary downwind conditions of the Columbia River Gorge.
August
4 The Paddle Grapple. Fontana Reservoir near Bryson City, North Carolina. A 6-mile flatwater race. Register
9-12 U.S. Canoe Association National Championships. Onondaga Lake and Erie Canal, Syracuse, New York. Marathon races in a variety of boat classes sanctioned by the USCA.
September
1 Big River Regional. Mississippi River, Baton Rouge, Louisiana. 13 miles down the largest river in North America.
8 Lower Atchafalaya Sprints. Atchafalaya River, Patterson, Louisiana. A series of 3-mile races on flatwater. Register
22 Gator Bait Race. Barnett Reservoir outside Jackson, Mississippi. A 5.5-mile flatwater race. Register
29 River Rat Paddle Challenge. Ouachita River at Monroe, Louisiana. 6.5 miles on a Class I river.
Monday, May 14, 2018
Monday photo feature
Saturday was the first time in about seven years that I had "bonked" in a race. The previous time was at the Chicago Shoreline Marathon on Lake Michigan in August of 2011. The photo above shows me coming into the finish, at which time I had perked up enough to take a few good strokes and look respectable. But I'm in some serious agony.
Racing in Bluegrass country
By Friday morning my back was feeling better and I was starting to get focused on racing. I left home a little after 9 AM CDT and headed east through Nashville, Bowling Green, Glasgow, Somerset, Richmond. The drive took longer than I thought it would, and I lost an hour when I crossed into Eastern Time. And I was unfamiliar with my destination in the region south and east of Lexington, Kentucky. So I didn't manage to get in a pre-race paddle like I prefer to do. I'm a regimented creature of habit and it gnawed at me a little, but I tried to reassure myself that my performance the next day wouldn't be ruined.
It was getting on toward six o'clock when I arrived at Fort Boonesborough State Park, the site of the race start. I managed to locate Scott Cummins, Elaine Harold, and Lee Droppelman, all of Louisville, with whom I would be sharing a campsite in the park. Once I'd pitched my tent we went to the pre-race supper at a nearby restaurant called Halls On The River. By this time I was hungry enough to eat a horse, but I settled for a plate of catfish with hushpuppies and french fries. A few hours later I would wake up in my tent with some queasiness from all that fried food, but the feeling passed.
By Saturday morning a fifth person had joined our camp: Erik Borgnes of Stevens Point, Wisconsin. I had never met Erik in person but was familiar with his list of impressive victories in high-profile events. He told me he was a regular reader of this blog, and that was as big an honor as any I could possibly earn with my performance in the race.
We had to get our boats and gear in order quickly so that we could drive our vehicles down to the finish and catch the shuttle bus back up to the start. It's always one of the race-day challenges, making sure I pay proper attention to breakfast, hydration, bodily functions, stretching, and race prep while conforming to other people's schedules.
Finally we were back at the start and ready to go. The Bluegrass River Run featured a couple of competitions on the Kentucky River: Scott, Lee, Erik, and I would be racing down to the Valley View ferry, a distance of about 19 miles. Elaine was entered in the six-mile race, which also started at the state park but finished at a riverside restaurant called Proud Mary's beneath the Interstate 75 bridge.
After a few pre-race words from director Gerry James (also a reader of this blog, I was thrilled to learn), we put our boats on the water and got started promptly at 9:30 EDT. Scott, Lee, Erik, and I separated ourselves from the field and spent the early miles in a four-boat pack. The pace seemed comfortable to me, but I had to assess whether it was something I could sustain for the entire race, and this is where my unfamiliarity with the river and the race was a handicap. The best information I had was that Scott had won last year's race in about two and a half hours. I don't normally like to use a G.P.S. device while I'm racing, but this time it might have been helpful to know how far along the course I was and how fast I was getting there... those who snicker at me for being such a Luddite would have had some justification Saturday.
The pace seemed comfortable, like I said, but Lee provided the first clue that it was a little quick when he dropped off our pack several miles in. He remarked after the race that we were "flying."
Scott and Erik and I continued along, trading off the lead. I tried to get all the rest I could while riding their wakes. Scott and I both kept a wary eye on Erik, the most accomplished athlete among us: sooner or later, we figured, he was likely to make his move and break away. Then again, up in Wisconsin the water freezes over during the winter and there was no telling what kind of paddling shape he was in. Erik does have a reputation for staying fit, however.
So there was much to think about as we carried our three-boat chess match down the river. I tried my best to limit my worries to my own self. With four or five trips around the Loosahatchie Bar under my belt this season, I told myself to have faith in the work I'd done.
We passed Proud Mary's at the 47-minute mark. Our long-time racing friend Chris Hipgrave was entered in the 6-mile race and we agreed that we should haze him without mercy if he didn't break 47 minutes.
Erik seemed to make a little bit of a move around 1:15 or 1:20--just a subtle push in the pace as he took the lead. But Scott and I covered the move and we continued as a three-boat pack. By the 1:30 mark I was starting to feel some serious fatigue set in, and again I wondered how much race was left: 45 minutes? an hour? I don't think we were getting much help from the current: my guess is it was moving between 1 and 2 miles per hour, maximum.
At about 1:50, the other shoe finally dropped: with a sudden flurry of strokes, Erik began to break away from Scott and me. I made a feeble attempt to give chase but I knew within seconds I didn't have it in me. Scott went after Erik as well, and stayed with him for perhaps 30 seconds before he got dropped.
As the gap widened between Erik and Scott, I hung several waves back of Scott's stern with the hope of reeling him back in. But my body had had about enough and was shutting down on me. In other words, I bonked. My glycogen stores depleted, simply putting my body through the motions of paddling was suddenly excruciating. I sat there and watched as Scott pulled away from me and Erik pulled away from Scott. In a matter of minutes our tight, cozy, spirited little pack became strung out over at least a full kilometer.
The last 40 minutes of my race were pretty miserable. When I've bonked I tend to start wallowing in self-pity and wondering just how pathetic my result will be. During one of my breaks from paddling I looked upriver and could see Lee's boat three or four minutes back, and knew the possibility of him running me down to take third place was real. The Fahrenheit temperature had moved above 80 degrees and with low humidity the heat was deceptive. Several times in the final ten minutes I dipped my hat in the water and put it back on my head.
Erik extended his lead and crossed the finish line at Valley View in two hours, 25 minutes, 28 seconds. I don't think Scott was feeling much better than I was but he held on for a respectable second-place finish in 2:29:34. Somehow I managed to stay in third even though I was doing little more than floating with the current. My time was 2:32:01. Lee had indeed narrowed the gap on me and finished just 103 seconds back in 2:33:44. Michael Alexeev rounded out the top five in 2:36:07. Dan Mecklenburg and Debbie Brax paddled their USCA "pro boat" C2 across the line in 2:38:37.
Chris Hipgrave, a resident of Bryson City, North Carolina, saved himself a lot of grief from us by finishing the 6-mile race comfortably under 47 minutes, clocking 44:49. Elaine Harold was the fastest female and claimed second place overall in 53:16. The complete results are posted here. (Once you've clicked on this link, you have to click on "Results" at the top of the page, and then select the race you want from the "Select an event" menu.)
Somehow I found the energy to carry my boat up to the car and change into dry clothes. I drank some water and began the transition back into normal human existence. We all drove back to Proud Mary's for the post-race party and were served some yummy jambalaya and green beans. I accepted my third-place trophy in good spirits and began the long drive back to Memphis.
I was sore from head to toe, and that was no big surprise. But during the drive I also noticed some sharp pain in my left shoulder, in the deltoid area. The pain was still present when I woke up yesterday morning, and when I went down to the river to paddle it bothered me enough that I stopped after just 20 low-intensity minutes. It's feeling slightly better this morning and I hope it's nothing more than a strain that will get better if I treat it with care for the next few days.
The weekend's race turned out to be a bit longer than I care to do, but there's no reason to regret the experience. The Kentucky River is a beautiful place and I'm grateful to the organizers for realizing it was a worthwhile venue for racing.
It was getting on toward six o'clock when I arrived at Fort Boonesborough State Park, the site of the race start. I managed to locate Scott Cummins, Elaine Harold, and Lee Droppelman, all of Louisville, with whom I would be sharing a campsite in the park. Once I'd pitched my tent we went to the pre-race supper at a nearby restaurant called Halls On The River. By this time I was hungry enough to eat a horse, but I settled for a plate of catfish with hushpuppies and french fries. A few hours later I would wake up in my tent with some queasiness from all that fried food, but the feeling passed.
By Saturday morning a fifth person had joined our camp: Erik Borgnes of Stevens Point, Wisconsin. I had never met Erik in person but was familiar with his list of impressive victories in high-profile events. He told me he was a regular reader of this blog, and that was as big an honor as any I could possibly earn with my performance in the race.
We had to get our boats and gear in order quickly so that we could drive our vehicles down to the finish and catch the shuttle bus back up to the start. It's always one of the race-day challenges, making sure I pay proper attention to breakfast, hydration, bodily functions, stretching, and race prep while conforming to other people's schedules.
Finally we were back at the start and ready to go. The Bluegrass River Run featured a couple of competitions on the Kentucky River: Scott, Lee, Erik, and I would be racing down to the Valley View ferry, a distance of about 19 miles. Elaine was entered in the six-mile race, which also started at the state park but finished at a riverside restaurant called Proud Mary's beneath the Interstate 75 bridge.
After a few pre-race words from director Gerry James (also a reader of this blog, I was thrilled to learn), we put our boats on the water and got started promptly at 9:30 EDT. Scott, Lee, Erik, and I separated ourselves from the field and spent the early miles in a four-boat pack. The pace seemed comfortable to me, but I had to assess whether it was something I could sustain for the entire race, and this is where my unfamiliarity with the river and the race was a handicap. The best information I had was that Scott had won last year's race in about two and a half hours. I don't normally like to use a G.P.S. device while I'm racing, but this time it might have been helpful to know how far along the course I was and how fast I was getting there... those who snicker at me for being such a Luddite would have had some justification Saturday.
The pace seemed comfortable, like I said, but Lee provided the first clue that it was a little quick when he dropped off our pack several miles in. He remarked after the race that we were "flying."
Scott and Erik and I continued along, trading off the lead. I tried to get all the rest I could while riding their wakes. Scott and I both kept a wary eye on Erik, the most accomplished athlete among us: sooner or later, we figured, he was likely to make his move and break away. Then again, up in Wisconsin the water freezes over during the winter and there was no telling what kind of paddling shape he was in. Erik does have a reputation for staying fit, however.
So there was much to think about as we carried our three-boat chess match down the river. I tried my best to limit my worries to my own self. With four or five trips around the Loosahatchie Bar under my belt this season, I told myself to have faith in the work I'd done.
We passed Proud Mary's at the 47-minute mark. Our long-time racing friend Chris Hipgrave was entered in the 6-mile race and we agreed that we should haze him without mercy if he didn't break 47 minutes.
Erik seemed to make a little bit of a move around 1:15 or 1:20--just a subtle push in the pace as he took the lead. But Scott and I covered the move and we continued as a three-boat pack. By the 1:30 mark I was starting to feel some serious fatigue set in, and again I wondered how much race was left: 45 minutes? an hour? I don't think we were getting much help from the current: my guess is it was moving between 1 and 2 miles per hour, maximum.
At about 1:50, the other shoe finally dropped: with a sudden flurry of strokes, Erik began to break away from Scott and me. I made a feeble attempt to give chase but I knew within seconds I didn't have it in me. Scott went after Erik as well, and stayed with him for perhaps 30 seconds before he got dropped.
As the gap widened between Erik and Scott, I hung several waves back of Scott's stern with the hope of reeling him back in. But my body had had about enough and was shutting down on me. In other words, I bonked. My glycogen stores depleted, simply putting my body through the motions of paddling was suddenly excruciating. I sat there and watched as Scott pulled away from me and Erik pulled away from Scott. In a matter of minutes our tight, cozy, spirited little pack became strung out over at least a full kilometer.
The last 40 minutes of my race were pretty miserable. When I've bonked I tend to start wallowing in self-pity and wondering just how pathetic my result will be. During one of my breaks from paddling I looked upriver and could see Lee's boat three or four minutes back, and knew the possibility of him running me down to take third place was real. The Fahrenheit temperature had moved above 80 degrees and with low humidity the heat was deceptive. Several times in the final ten minutes I dipped my hat in the water and put it back on my head.
Erik extended his lead and crossed the finish line at Valley View in two hours, 25 minutes, 28 seconds. I don't think Scott was feeling much better than I was but he held on for a respectable second-place finish in 2:29:34. Somehow I managed to stay in third even though I was doing little more than floating with the current. My time was 2:32:01. Lee had indeed narrowed the gap on me and finished just 103 seconds back in 2:33:44. Michael Alexeev rounded out the top five in 2:36:07. Dan Mecklenburg and Debbie Brax paddled their USCA "pro boat" C2 across the line in 2:38:37.
Chris Hipgrave, a resident of Bryson City, North Carolina, saved himself a lot of grief from us by finishing the 6-mile race comfortably under 47 minutes, clocking 44:49. Elaine Harold was the fastest female and claimed second place overall in 53:16. The complete results are posted here. (Once you've clicked on this link, you have to click on "Results" at the top of the page, and then select the race you want from the "Select an event" menu.)
Somehow I found the energy to carry my boat up to the car and change into dry clothes. I drank some water and began the transition back into normal human existence. We all drove back to Proud Mary's for the post-race party and were served some yummy jambalaya and green beans. I accepted my third-place trophy in good spirits and began the long drive back to Memphis.
I was sore from head to toe, and that was no big surprise. But during the drive I also noticed some sharp pain in my left shoulder, in the deltoid area. The pain was still present when I woke up yesterday morning, and when I went down to the river to paddle it bothered me enough that I stopped after just 20 low-intensity minutes. It's feeling slightly better this morning and I hope it's nothing more than a strain that will get better if I treat it with care for the next few days.
The weekend's race turned out to be a bit longer than I care to do, but there's no reason to regret the experience. The Kentucky River is a beautiful place and I'm grateful to the organizers for realizing it was a worthwhile venue for racing.
Thursday, May 10, 2018
Changing seasons and an ailing back
I do believe the weather has shifted toward summer for good. Slowly but surely I'm moving into my summertime routines. Lately it's been warm enough for me to paddle in shorts and a short-sleeved shirt; I'll probably give it another week or so to be sure, but soon I'll be going through the annual ritual of washing my cold-weather gear and putting it away until next winter. Wearing less clothing in the boat means putting on more sunscreen, and since I hate having that greasy stuff all over me I usually wash it off under the water spigot after I paddle. I'll be enjoying those cool baths on the dock more and more as we get deeper into the summer. As the mercury rises I'll have to start thinking about in-the-boat hydration during training sessions.
The riverfront is teeming with signs of the season. The purple martins are in residence at the marina's birdhouse; the turtles are sunning themselves on floating logs; the gar are hanging out an inch below the harbor's surface; cottonwood blooms are everywhere.
On Tuesday morning I did the strength routine for the last time before this Saturday's race, and then I paddled with Joe in the harbor. Tuesday afternoon I somehow tweaked my back while working at my rental property: I can't remember any specific thing that caused it, but at some point I noticed that my lower-left back area was very sore and uncomfortable. It felt awful when I woke up yesterday morning and was a mood-dampening companion all day.
By this morning it had improved some but the discomfort lingered. Fortunately it didn't bother me much when I got in the boat and started paddling. I paddled for 60 minutes and did a set of six 12-stroke sprints. I felt as good as I have in a long time while sprinting: my turnover seemed easier and more fluid.
I'd already had an appointment scheduled with the chiropractor who has helped me out a lot with the plantar fasciitis I've had. I told her about the back discomfort and she worked on that area. Let's hope it runs its course before I line up to race on Saturday.
The riverfront is teeming with signs of the season. The purple martins are in residence at the marina's birdhouse; the turtles are sunning themselves on floating logs; the gar are hanging out an inch below the harbor's surface; cottonwood blooms are everywhere.
On Tuesday morning I did the strength routine for the last time before this Saturday's race, and then I paddled with Joe in the harbor. Tuesday afternoon I somehow tweaked my back while working at my rental property: I can't remember any specific thing that caused it, but at some point I noticed that my lower-left back area was very sore and uncomfortable. It felt awful when I woke up yesterday morning and was a mood-dampening companion all day.
By this morning it had improved some but the discomfort lingered. Fortunately it didn't bother me much when I got in the boat and started paddling. I paddled for 60 minutes and did a set of six 12-stroke sprints. I felt as good as I have in a long time while sprinting: my turnover seemed easier and more fluid.
I'd already had an appointment scheduled with the chiropractor who has helped me out a lot with the plantar fasciitis I've had. I told her about the back discomfort and she worked on that area. Let's hope it runs its course before I line up to race on Saturday.
Monday, May 7, 2018
Monday photo feature
A guy named Mark Richards has been posting some photos he's taken of slalom racing in his native Great Britain over the years. Here's one he took when Nottingham hosted the world championships in 1995. Davey Hearn of the United States (left) celebrates his victory in the C1 class with U.S. team chiropractor Rick DiCarlo.
Sunday, May 6, 2018
Smokin', but not in a good way
I went down to the river yesterday morning under overcast skies. There was very little wind and the Fahrenheit temperature was in the low 70s. After warming up and doing three 8-stroke sprints in the harbor, I paddled out onto the Mississippi and saw a barge rig coming downriver. Downstream-bound towboats usually generate smaller wakes than upstream-bound ones, but this one must have been running behind schedule because its wake was huge. I fell in behind it hoping for some epic surf, but I was reminded that bigger is not always better: I'm no expert on wave dynamics, but something about the shape of these waves made it hard for me to get much of a ride at all. I followed the vessel down just below the Memphis-Arkansas Bridge and then gave it up. I paddled back upriver along the Tennessee bank at a strong tempo and got back to the dock just in time to make it a 60-minute session.
I did a round of the strength routine this morning. I normally would do it tomorrow but I have some things to do tomorrow that might not leave me enough time.
After lunch I headed down to the river and paddled for 80 minutes. With a race coming up Saturday I did some speed-polishing with a set of eight 12-stroke sprints. Then I ferried across the river and looped through the lower reaches of the Loosahatchie Chute before returning to the harbor. The weather was quite lovely--sunny skies and a temperature in the mid 70s--but it was not a "chamber of commerce" day because of a big fire at a metal-recycling yard not far from my marina. Thick smoke billowed from the facility and a haze covered the entire Memphis riverfront area. As I paddled along breathing the polluted air, all I could think about was the ravaged health of all those World Trade Center first-responders.
I did a round of the strength routine this morning. I normally would do it tomorrow but I have some things to do tomorrow that might not leave me enough time.
After lunch I headed down to the river and paddled for 80 minutes. With a race coming up Saturday I did some speed-polishing with a set of eight 12-stroke sprints. Then I ferried across the river and looped through the lower reaches of the Loosahatchie Chute before returning to the harbor. The weather was quite lovely--sunny skies and a temperature in the mid 70s--but it was not a "chamber of commerce" day because of a big fire at a metal-recycling yard not far from my marina. Thick smoke billowed from the facility and a haze covered the entire Memphis riverfront area. As I paddled along breathing the polluted air, all I could think about was the ravaged health of all those World Trade Center first-responders.
Friday, May 4, 2018
Week in review
I have made my decision of what race to attend on May 12: I'll be going to the region southeast of Lexington, Kentucky, for the Bluegrass River Run, a 19-mile race on the Kentucky River. It appears there will be some good competition there, and I'm looking forward to visiting a place where I've never raced before. I'm sorry to be missing the Osage Spring 12 event up near Jefferson City, Missouri; I raced there last year and had a great time, and I hope to return there in the future.
I did a cursory round of my new strength routine on Monday, then did full rounds Wednesday and today.
In the boat I paddled for 60 minutes both Tuesday and yesterday. They were fairly typical sessions for me--steady paddles with some surges.
I did a cursory round of my new strength routine on Monday, then did full rounds Wednesday and today.
In the boat I paddled for 60 minutes both Tuesday and yesterday. They were fairly typical sessions for me--steady paddles with some surges.
A new strength routine
Because of my family's annual beach trip later this month, this routine consists of "portable" exercises. Two of them are simple body-weight exercises, and I use my rubber bands for the other three.
1. Rubber band exercise demonstrated by Daniele Molmenti at 5:44 of this video
2. Lateral abdominal exercises demonstrated by Michele Ramazza at 3:52 of this video
3. Standing rubber band exercise similar to dumbbell flies
4. "Superman" back ups
5. "Pre-Hab" rubber band exercises (both inside and outside moves) demonstrated by Daniele Molmenti at 8:30 of this video
1. Rubber band exercise demonstrated by Daniele Molmenti at 5:44 of this video
2. Lateral abdominal exercises demonstrated by Michele Ramazza at 3:52 of this video
3. Standing rubber band exercise similar to dumbbell flies
4. "Superman" back ups
5. "Pre-Hab" rubber band exercises (both inside and outside moves) demonstrated by Daniele Molmenti at 8:30 of this video
Monday, April 30, 2018
Monday photo feature
My friend John Kazimierczyk, the owner and builder at Millbrook Boats in Richmond, New Hampshire, is on vacation in Japan right now, and he's been posting some stunning photos of rivers and other scapes there. He took the photo above on the Tonegawa River in Ibaraki Prefecture.
Finally, good weather for a few days in a row
The weather was as gorgeous as we were promised on Saturday. I got in my boat and warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints, and then paddled a strong tempo out on the river. I went down to the old bridges just below downtown Memphis and then paddled back up on the Arkansas side. The river continues to be quite high: Saturday's level was 27.9 feet on the Memphis gauge.
I had to rearrange my usual weekend schedule to accommodate some Sunday commitments. As a result, I did my usual Sunday "long" paddle today. Today is what my friend Joe would call a "chamber of commerce" day: blue skies, warm, a pleasantly gentle breeze. With the river level still hanging around 27.9 feet, it was a good day to paddle around the Loosahatchie Bar. I got in the boat and went about this trek in the following manner:
1. I used the section from the marina down to the mouth of the harbor to warm up and do three 8-stroke sprints.
2. I pushed the pace up the Mississippi along the Tennessee bank from the harbor's mouth to the mouth of the Wolf River.
3. I eased up during the stretch upriver from the mouth of the Wolf to the big eddy near the south end of DeWitt Spain Airport.
4. I paddled hard while ferrying across the main channel. I continued paddling a pretty strong pace as I worked my way up to the north end of the Loosahatchie Bar against the strong currents there.
5. Once I had rounded the Bar's north end, and had the current working in my favor, I took a breather. Then I slowly built into a good solid pace down the Loosahatchie Chute. I made sure to admire my surroundings: the Loosahatchie Chute might be my favorite outdoor spot in the entire greater Memphis area. With the picture-perfect weather and the forested banks becoming greener by the day, it was gorgeous today.
6. When I emerged from the Chute and began working my way back across the main channel toward the harbor, several upstream-moving barge rigs had just passed and there were some decent-sized waves to deal with. They weren't as rough as what I saw down in Vicksburg nine days ago, but they were big enough to demand my attention.
7. By the time I re-entered the harbor I was getting tired but still had enough energy to paddle at a decent clip. At times like this I try to focus extra hard on good stroke mechanics.
I got back to the dock about an hour and 52 minutes after I'd left it. My paddle today had had a little of everything: some flatwater, some smooth moving water, some waves, some paddling against the current, some paddling with the current, some hard paddling, some easy paddling. Not a bad morning's work.
I had to rearrange my usual weekend schedule to accommodate some Sunday commitments. As a result, I did my usual Sunday "long" paddle today. Today is what my friend Joe would call a "chamber of commerce" day: blue skies, warm, a pleasantly gentle breeze. With the river level still hanging around 27.9 feet, it was a good day to paddle around the Loosahatchie Bar. I got in the boat and went about this trek in the following manner:
1. I used the section from the marina down to the mouth of the harbor to warm up and do three 8-stroke sprints.
2. I pushed the pace up the Mississippi along the Tennessee bank from the harbor's mouth to the mouth of the Wolf River.
3. I eased up during the stretch upriver from the mouth of the Wolf to the big eddy near the south end of DeWitt Spain Airport.
4. I paddled hard while ferrying across the main channel. I continued paddling a pretty strong pace as I worked my way up to the north end of the Loosahatchie Bar against the strong currents there.
5. Once I had rounded the Bar's north end, and had the current working in my favor, I took a breather. Then I slowly built into a good solid pace down the Loosahatchie Chute. I made sure to admire my surroundings: the Loosahatchie Chute might be my favorite outdoor spot in the entire greater Memphis area. With the picture-perfect weather and the forested banks becoming greener by the day, it was gorgeous today.
6. When I emerged from the Chute and began working my way back across the main channel toward the harbor, several upstream-moving barge rigs had just passed and there were some decent-sized waves to deal with. They weren't as rough as what I saw down in Vicksburg nine days ago, but they were big enough to demand my attention.
7. By the time I re-entered the harbor I was getting tired but still had enough energy to paddle at a decent clip. At times like this I try to focus extra hard on good stroke mechanics.
I got back to the dock about an hour and 52 minutes after I'd left it. My paddle today had had a little of everything: some flatwater, some smooth moving water, some waves, some paddling against the current, some paddling with the current, some hard paddling, some easy paddling. Not a bad morning's work.
Friday, April 27, 2018
Spring can do better than this
Joe and I had a good day for our loop of the harbor Tuesday--it was slightly warmer than it had been lately, and the wind was light.
Yesterday was another soggy day in what has been a wet year so far. Last time I checked, the greater Memphis area was some ten inches above normal in rainfall for the year up to this date. As I prepared to head to the river yesterday, rain pouring down outside, I looked at the Internet radar and saw a big mass of yellow (medium-heavy rain) parked over the city. It was sort of rotating but it wasn't going anywhere. I would be paddling in the rain, it was as simple as that. Sure, I could have waited until afternoon to paddle, but I generally don't like to do that. My energy level is usually flagging by late afternoon, and there's no telling what might come up during the day that would make me have to skip paddling altogether. So down to the river I went.
What's so terrible about paddling in the rain? Nothing, really; I've certainly done my share of rainy-day paddling, and as I've said before, some of the most beautiful days out in nature are the days of inclement weather. But I have to admit I'm weary of the chill and the moisture. I feel like we're overdue for a good run of beautiful sunny warm days with gentle breezes. We are in fact supposed to have such weather this weekend, so hope springs eternal, I guess.
Anyway, once I was in the boat the rain didn't really bother me. I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints, and then paddled up the Mississippi to the lower end of the Greenbelt Park before doing a strong tempo back downriver to the harbor. By then the rain was finally moving out, so I wasn't feeling like too much of a drowned rat when I got back to the dock.
I did the strength routine on Monday, Wednesday, and today this week. With the calendar about to turn over to another month, I think I'll come up with something new to start next week.
Yesterday was another soggy day in what has been a wet year so far. Last time I checked, the greater Memphis area was some ten inches above normal in rainfall for the year up to this date. As I prepared to head to the river yesterday, rain pouring down outside, I looked at the Internet radar and saw a big mass of yellow (medium-heavy rain) parked over the city. It was sort of rotating but it wasn't going anywhere. I would be paddling in the rain, it was as simple as that. Sure, I could have waited until afternoon to paddle, but I generally don't like to do that. My energy level is usually flagging by late afternoon, and there's no telling what might come up during the day that would make me have to skip paddling altogether. So down to the river I went.
What's so terrible about paddling in the rain? Nothing, really; I've certainly done my share of rainy-day paddling, and as I've said before, some of the most beautiful days out in nature are the days of inclement weather. But I have to admit I'm weary of the chill and the moisture. I feel like we're overdue for a good run of beautiful sunny warm days with gentle breezes. We are in fact supposed to have such weather this weekend, so hope springs eternal, I guess.
Anyway, once I was in the boat the rain didn't really bother me. I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints, and then paddled up the Mississippi to the lower end of the Greenbelt Park before doing a strong tempo back downriver to the harbor. By then the rain was finally moving out, so I wasn't feeling like too much of a drowned rat when I got back to the dock.
I did the strength routine on Monday, Wednesday, and today this week. With the calendar about to turn over to another month, I think I'll come up with something new to start next week.
Monday, April 23, 2018
Race schedule update
Now that I've offered voluminous reflection on this past weekend's racing, let's look ahead! Down below you'll find a list of races that are on my radar for the remainder of this season.
Of course, there's now a gaping hole in the schedule for the month of June. Father's Day weekend will not be the same without the Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race this year.
As I've said before, it's unlikely I'll make every event that is on this schedule. In fact, it's impossible: the two events I'm interested in next month are on the same date. I attended one of these races last year and thought it was a good event, while I've heard good things about the other one. I expect they will offer a similar level of competition. They're both on what I would call medium-sized Class I rivers, and they're about the same driving distance from where I live. In the end I'll probably make my decision based on weather forecasts and river flow information.
Anyway, here's the schedule:
May
12 Osage Spring 12. Osage River near Osage City, Missouri. 12 miles total (10 miles downriver and then 2 miles back up) on a Class I river. Register
12 Bluegrass River Run. Kentucky River near Richmond, Kentucky. 19 miles down a Class I river. Register
June
9 Taylorsville Lake Paddle Battle. Taylorsville Lake, Taylorsville, Kentucky. A 10-mile flatwater race. Register
July
7 The Lovely Laurel River Lake Paddle Blast. Laurel River Lake, Corbin, Kentucky. A 10-mile flatwater race. Register
16-21 Gorge Downwind Championships. Columbia River, Hood River, Oregon. A race for surf skis and outrigger canoes in the legendary downwind conditions of the Columbia River Gorge.
August
4 The Paddle Grapple. Fontana Reservoir near Bryson City, North Carolina. A 6-mile flatwater race. Register
9-12 U.S. Canoe Association National Championships. Onondaga Lake and Erie Canal, Syracuse, New York. Marathon races in a variety of boat classes sanctioned by the USCA.
September
1 Big River Regional. Mississippi River, Baton Rouge, Louisiana. 13 miles down the largest river in North America.
8 Lower Atchafalaya Sprints. Atchafalaya River, Patterson, Louisiana. A series of 3-mile races on flatwater. Register
22 Gator Bait Race. Barnett Reservoir outside Jackson, Mississippi. A 5.5-mile flatwater race. Register
29 River Rat Paddle Challenge. Ouachita River at Monroe, Louisiana. 6.5 miles on a Class I river.
Of course, there's now a gaping hole in the schedule for the month of June. Father's Day weekend will not be the same without the Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race this year.
As I've said before, it's unlikely I'll make every event that is on this schedule. In fact, it's impossible: the two events I'm interested in next month are on the same date. I attended one of these races last year and thought it was a good event, while I've heard good things about the other one. I expect they will offer a similar level of competition. They're both on what I would call medium-sized Class I rivers, and they're about the same driving distance from where I live. In the end I'll probably make my decision based on weather forecasts and river flow information.
Anyway, here's the schedule:
May
12 Osage Spring 12. Osage River near Osage City, Missouri. 12 miles total (10 miles downriver and then 2 miles back up) on a Class I river. Register
12 Bluegrass River Run. Kentucky River near Richmond, Kentucky. 19 miles down a Class I river. Register
June
9 Taylorsville Lake Paddle Battle. Taylorsville Lake, Taylorsville, Kentucky. A 10-mile flatwater race. Register
July
7 The Lovely Laurel River Lake Paddle Blast. Laurel River Lake, Corbin, Kentucky. A 10-mile flatwater race. Register
16-21 Gorge Downwind Championships. Columbia River, Hood River, Oregon. A race for surf skis and outrigger canoes in the legendary downwind conditions of the Columbia River Gorge.
August
4 The Paddle Grapple. Fontana Reservoir near Bryson City, North Carolina. A 6-mile flatwater race. Register
9-12 U.S. Canoe Association National Championships. Onondaga Lake and Erie Canal, Syracuse, New York. Marathon races in a variety of boat classes sanctioned by the USCA.
September
1 Big River Regional. Mississippi River, Baton Rouge, Louisiana. 13 miles down the largest river in North America.
8 Lower Atchafalaya Sprints. Atchafalaya River, Patterson, Louisiana. A series of 3-mile races on flatwater. Register
22 Gator Bait Race. Barnett Reservoir outside Jackson, Mississippi. A 5.5-mile flatwater race. Register
29 River Rat Paddle Challenge. Ouachita River at Monroe, Louisiana. 6.5 miles on a Class I river.
Monday photo feature
Susan Jordan of Lucedale, Mississippi, navigates a particularly mighty Mississippi River en route to Vicksburg on Saturday. Her "V8 Pro" surf ski put her in the "K1 Fast" class, and she was the winner of that class as well as the second-fastest female competitor overall. Photo by Paul Ingram.
Sunday, April 22, 2018
Got me some press
Hey, check it out! I got my name in the paper! The Vicksburg Post ran this article about Saturday's race in today's edition.
Racing at Vicksburg
I got up bright and early yesterday morning and got myself down to Vicksburg's riverfront, site of the race finish. There I got on a bus that took racers up to the start at Madison Parish Port.
By the time we got up there the Fahrenheit temperature was rising into the 60s. The river appeared smooth but there was a breeze coming upriver that one sensed would be picking up soon. The forecast had called for a headwind around 13 miles per hour.
After a brief racers' meeting we got in our boats and lined up, and off we went. I moved into the lead with Andy Capel of Maumelle, Arkansas, maintaining contact.
Here's a map of the section of the Mississippi we were racing on:
As you can see, there are sort of three "legs" to the S-shaped course. I spent the first leg paddling strong but controlled, knowing there was a lot of race left and I should conserve energy for the rougher conditions that might arise later on. For the time being the river conditions and the headwind weren't too bad, though the wind was blowing just hard enough to be noisy in my ears and trick my mind into thinking things were worse than they really were. With Andy hanging out on my stern wake I threw in an occasional surge to test his mettle, and he hung tough each time. This photo taken by Paul Ingram shows the state of affairs for most of that first leg:
It wasn't until we were entering the first big bend ("Marshall Point Cut-Off") that I finally opened a bigger gap. From this point on I could no longer find Andy in my peripheral vision, but I had to assume he wasn't too far back. Meanwhile the conditions were beginning to roughen a little. In the middle leg of the course we had more of a beam wind and the waves were moving from left to right, and I had to pay close attention to keep my balance.
One of the things on my mind was the elapsed time: I had last broken two hours in this race in 2014. Though there were perfectly good reasons (low water being chief among them) for my slower times since then, I had this feeling in the back of my mind that maybe my aging body no longer had any sub-two-hour performances in it. With the river running at about 43.1 feet on the Vicksburg gauge yesterday--a tenth of a foot above the official "flood stage"--one could expect faster times, but the weather conditions had dampened any thoughts of miracles.
As I rounded the second big bend I could see a string of barge rigs idling near the river-left bank, and off in the distance I could see a Coast Guard vessel coaxing a couple of more to do the same. The Coast Guard had ordered a halt to commercial traffic while the race was going on, but it appeared that these recalcitrant towboats were only just now complying for fear of a USCG wrist-slap. Even though these machines had now throttled down their engines, the waves they'd already produced, driven by the wind, would linger a long, long time. The approach to the city of Vicksburg promised to be a rough one.
Soon I was climbing up and over one wave after another, with an occasional four-foot breaker crashing over my bow. I kicked open the drain valve in my footwell and tried to grin and bear the soakings. I looked for the driest lines and tried to keep the boat moving as consistently as I could, knowing that Andy and maybe others couldn't be too far behind. I reminded myself that the conditions were challenging for them, too.
The river got nothing but rougher as I inched closer and closer to Vicksburg. Timing my strokes so I was paddling on the crest of each wave, I was having serious doubts about breaking two hours. By this time I was just trying to keep my boat upright until I was in the more protected waters of the Yazoo River. The sun was peeking through the clouds and it was hard to see, but little by little the mouth of the Yazoo came into view. I could see the calmer water there and in the last few hundred meters my only thought was getting there.
At last I was there. I reached down and closed my drain valve and began to think about going fast again. The finish line was some 1600 meters up the Yazoo, and I would be paddling against a mild current to get there. My watch had read 9:02 AM when the starting gun fired, and it was now about 10:50, so after all my struggles out on the Mississippi I still had a shot at breaking two hours. I was plenty tired but still had the energy for a good sustained surge, so I bore down and got to work. I stayed close to the Yazoo's river-right bank, away from the main current, for about two-thirds of the distance. The finish line was at the foot of the "Vicksburg Front" on the river-left side, so I had to ferry across, but I made it a steep ferry, trying to find that happy medium between adding extra distance to my trek and fighting the Yazoo's current. I sprinted as hard as I could for the last 300 meters and crossed the finish line at 10:59 on my watch. I knew I'd made it in an hour and 57 or 58 minutes (my official time was 1:57:36, as it turned out). This photo, also by Paul Ingram (or maybe one of his minions), captures the moment:
Elated to be finished at last, I turned around expecting to see Andy not too far back, but there were no paddlers in sight. I began my cool-down paddle and headed back down the Yazoo to cheer on some of the other racers. After a while I spotted the orange surf ski of David Dupree of Rayville, Louisiana, headed up the river-left bank. Andy's father Phil Capel of Sherwood, Arkansas, was several boatlengths behind David. These two would take second and third place overall.
More racers began to come into view, but there was still no sign of Andy. Eventually I headed back up to the finish area. Phil saw me and asked if I knew anything about his son. I said I didn't. The Coast Guard vessel was making its way up the river and Phil paddled over to speak to them.
I got out of my boat and carried it to my car, which I'd left parked a short distance from the finish area. Once I'd put some dry clothes on I walked back over to the riverfront and found Andy standing there. He told me that he had in fact been just a few hundred meters behind me as we approached the mouth of the Yazoo; then, just when he thought he'd made it to the protected water, a wave knocked him over. Drifting down the turbulent Mississippi, away from the Yazoo's mouth, Andy made numerous attempts to re-mount his surf ski before he finally succeeded. Then he had to fight his way back up to the Yazoo and to the finish. The mishap knocked him back to 14th place overall with a time of 2:22:39; it's possible he might have broken two hours if he'd stayed on track.
Karen Kesselring of Hot Springs Village, Arkansas, was the first overall female finisher, clocking two hours, 18 minutes, 58 seconds. The complete results are posted here.
As soon as the awards were over I made the four-hour drive back to Memphis. I was unbelievably tired and was in bed before ten o'clock. I woke up this morning feeling sore in my midsection; that's pretty typical after a long hard race. A short, easy recovery paddle was in order, but it was pouring down rain this morning and I just couldn't bring myself to immerse myself in the elements again. Instead I spent the morning alternating between lazing around and unpacking the car and doing a load of laundry and doing some overdue house cleaning. Yes, even a big canoe and kayak race winner has to clean his own house and do his own laundry.
I finally made it down to the river after four o'clock this afternoon. The post-race recovery paddle is a ritual that must be observed... I told you in my last post that I was regimented. I was still quite sore but once I was warmed up I felt pretty good in the boat. The clouds were giving way to some sunshine and it was a lovely late afternoon on the Memphis riverfront.
By the time we got up there the Fahrenheit temperature was rising into the 60s. The river appeared smooth but there was a breeze coming upriver that one sensed would be picking up soon. The forecast had called for a headwind around 13 miles per hour.
After a brief racers' meeting we got in our boats and lined up, and off we went. I moved into the lead with Andy Capel of Maumelle, Arkansas, maintaining contact.
Here's a map of the section of the Mississippi we were racing on:
As you can see, there are sort of three "legs" to the S-shaped course. I spent the first leg paddling strong but controlled, knowing there was a lot of race left and I should conserve energy for the rougher conditions that might arise later on. For the time being the river conditions and the headwind weren't too bad, though the wind was blowing just hard enough to be noisy in my ears and trick my mind into thinking things were worse than they really were. With Andy hanging out on my stern wake I threw in an occasional surge to test his mettle, and he hung tough each time. This photo taken by Paul Ingram shows the state of affairs for most of that first leg:
It wasn't until we were entering the first big bend ("Marshall Point Cut-Off") that I finally opened a bigger gap. From this point on I could no longer find Andy in my peripheral vision, but I had to assume he wasn't too far back. Meanwhile the conditions were beginning to roughen a little. In the middle leg of the course we had more of a beam wind and the waves were moving from left to right, and I had to pay close attention to keep my balance.
One of the things on my mind was the elapsed time: I had last broken two hours in this race in 2014. Though there were perfectly good reasons (low water being chief among them) for my slower times since then, I had this feeling in the back of my mind that maybe my aging body no longer had any sub-two-hour performances in it. With the river running at about 43.1 feet on the Vicksburg gauge yesterday--a tenth of a foot above the official "flood stage"--one could expect faster times, but the weather conditions had dampened any thoughts of miracles.
As I rounded the second big bend I could see a string of barge rigs idling near the river-left bank, and off in the distance I could see a Coast Guard vessel coaxing a couple of more to do the same. The Coast Guard had ordered a halt to commercial traffic while the race was going on, but it appeared that these recalcitrant towboats were only just now complying for fear of a USCG wrist-slap. Even though these machines had now throttled down their engines, the waves they'd already produced, driven by the wind, would linger a long, long time. The approach to the city of Vicksburg promised to be a rough one.
Soon I was climbing up and over one wave after another, with an occasional four-foot breaker crashing over my bow. I kicked open the drain valve in my footwell and tried to grin and bear the soakings. I looked for the driest lines and tried to keep the boat moving as consistently as I could, knowing that Andy and maybe others couldn't be too far behind. I reminded myself that the conditions were challenging for them, too.
The river got nothing but rougher as I inched closer and closer to Vicksburg. Timing my strokes so I was paddling on the crest of each wave, I was having serious doubts about breaking two hours. By this time I was just trying to keep my boat upright until I was in the more protected waters of the Yazoo River. The sun was peeking through the clouds and it was hard to see, but little by little the mouth of the Yazoo came into view. I could see the calmer water there and in the last few hundred meters my only thought was getting there.
At last I was there. I reached down and closed my drain valve and began to think about going fast again. The finish line was some 1600 meters up the Yazoo, and I would be paddling against a mild current to get there. My watch had read 9:02 AM when the starting gun fired, and it was now about 10:50, so after all my struggles out on the Mississippi I still had a shot at breaking two hours. I was plenty tired but still had the energy for a good sustained surge, so I bore down and got to work. I stayed close to the Yazoo's river-right bank, away from the main current, for about two-thirds of the distance. The finish line was at the foot of the "Vicksburg Front" on the river-left side, so I had to ferry across, but I made it a steep ferry, trying to find that happy medium between adding extra distance to my trek and fighting the Yazoo's current. I sprinted as hard as I could for the last 300 meters and crossed the finish line at 10:59 on my watch. I knew I'd made it in an hour and 57 or 58 minutes (my official time was 1:57:36, as it turned out). This photo, also by Paul Ingram (or maybe one of his minions), captures the moment:
Elated to be finished at last, I turned around expecting to see Andy not too far back, but there were no paddlers in sight. I began my cool-down paddle and headed back down the Yazoo to cheer on some of the other racers. After a while I spotted the orange surf ski of David Dupree of Rayville, Louisiana, headed up the river-left bank. Andy's father Phil Capel of Sherwood, Arkansas, was several boatlengths behind David. These two would take second and third place overall.
More racers began to come into view, but there was still no sign of Andy. Eventually I headed back up to the finish area. Phil saw me and asked if I knew anything about his son. I said I didn't. The Coast Guard vessel was making its way up the river and Phil paddled over to speak to them.
I got out of my boat and carried it to my car, which I'd left parked a short distance from the finish area. Once I'd put some dry clothes on I walked back over to the riverfront and found Andy standing there. He told me that he had in fact been just a few hundred meters behind me as we approached the mouth of the Yazoo; then, just when he thought he'd made it to the protected water, a wave knocked him over. Drifting down the turbulent Mississippi, away from the Yazoo's mouth, Andy made numerous attempts to re-mount his surf ski before he finally succeeded. Then he had to fight his way back up to the Yazoo and to the finish. The mishap knocked him back to 14th place overall with a time of 2:22:39; it's possible he might have broken two hours if he'd stayed on track.
Karen Kesselring of Hot Springs Village, Arkansas, was the first overall female finisher, clocking two hours, 18 minutes, 58 seconds. The complete results are posted here.
As soon as the awards were over I made the four-hour drive back to Memphis. I was unbelievably tired and was in bed before ten o'clock. I woke up this morning feeling sore in my midsection; that's pretty typical after a long hard race. A short, easy recovery paddle was in order, but it was pouring down rain this morning and I just couldn't bring myself to immerse myself in the elements again. Instead I spent the morning alternating between lazing around and unpacking the car and doing a load of laundry and doing some overdue house cleaning. Yes, even a big canoe and kayak race winner has to clean his own house and do his own laundry.
I finally made it down to the river after four o'clock this afternoon. The post-race recovery paddle is a ritual that must be observed... I told you in my last post that I was regimented. I was still quite sore but once I was warmed up I felt pretty good in the boat. The clouds were giving way to some sunshine and it was a lovely late afternoon on the Memphis riverfront.
Friday, April 20, 2018
Fun in north Mississippi
I got an early start this morning, so I didn't feel in a rush to get to Vicksburg.
I like to get a short paddle in the day before a race so I can rev the engines and move some blood through the relevant muscles. I decided to stop at Enid Reservoir, just off Interstate 55 in Yalobusha County, for this purpose. Enid Reservoir, about 70 miles south of Memphis, was created by the construction of a dam on the Yocona River. One reason I picked it for today's paddle was something I'd heard about for years but had never seen first hand: apparently there's a short section of whitewater just below the dam. When I stopped to check it out today, this is what I found:
I was wishing I had a whitewater boat with me. But I didn't, so once I'd beheld the sight of Mississippi whitewater to my satisfaction, I drove up to the flatwater impoundment above the dam and found a place to put in.
A calm, quiet expanse of water to do my pre-race paddle on was what I'd had in mind. Instead I got offshore conditions, with wind-driven waves moving from southeast to northwest. As an athlete I tend to be regimented and don't always like when things don't go as expected, but today I made myself relax and go with it. Instead of the 12-stroke sprints I might have done, I did my sprinting in the effort to catch waves and ended up getting some nice rides. I would have liked to do it for hours, but with a race tomorrow I limited myself to 40 minutes of playing around.
Back at the car I put my dry clothes back on and ate the lunch I'd brought with me. I hit the road and reached Vicksburg around 3 o'clock. I continued across the river and up to Madison Parish Port, where I dropped my boat at the start. Then I returned to Vicksburg and picked up my race packet.
Now I'm at my motel streaming the Cardinals game on my computer and settling down for what I hope will be a good night's sleep.
I like to get a short paddle in the day before a race so I can rev the engines and move some blood through the relevant muscles. I decided to stop at Enid Reservoir, just off Interstate 55 in Yalobusha County, for this purpose. Enid Reservoir, about 70 miles south of Memphis, was created by the construction of a dam on the Yocona River. One reason I picked it for today's paddle was something I'd heard about for years but had never seen first hand: apparently there's a short section of whitewater just below the dam. When I stopped to check it out today, this is what I found:
I was wishing I had a whitewater boat with me. But I didn't, so once I'd beheld the sight of Mississippi whitewater to my satisfaction, I drove up to the flatwater impoundment above the dam and found a place to put in.
A calm, quiet expanse of water to do my pre-race paddle on was what I'd had in mind. Instead I got offshore conditions, with wind-driven waves moving from southeast to northwest. As an athlete I tend to be regimented and don't always like when things don't go as expected, but today I made myself relax and go with it. Instead of the 12-stroke sprints I might have done, I did my sprinting in the effort to catch waves and ended up getting some nice rides. I would have liked to do it for hours, but with a race tomorrow I limited myself to 40 minutes of playing around.
Back at the car I put my dry clothes back on and ate the lunch I'd brought with me. I hit the road and reached Vicksburg around 3 o'clock. I continued across the river and up to Madison Parish Port, where I dropped my boat at the start. Then I returned to Vicksburg and picked up my race packet.
Now I'm at my motel streaming the Cardinals game on my computer and settling down for what I hope will be a good night's sleep.
Thursday, April 19, 2018
It's about time to race again
On Monday I got myself signed up for the Bluz Cruz Canoe and Kayak Race, a 22-miler down the Mississippi River starting at Madison Parish Port and finishing at Vicksburg. So I'm committed now. This week is being spent getting myself race-ready. That means doing the strength routine Monday and Wednesday, but not Friday. It means polishing my speed in the boat. And it means getting as much rest as I can--the mental kind as well as the physical.
Joe and I did our usual loop of the harbor on a warm, breezy day Tuesday. Yesterday it was breezy again and the temperature exceeded 80 degrees Fahrenheit in the afternoon. Today it is cooler, with a high in the 50s expected, but it seems that our cool spells are getting less chilly and shorter in duration. I paddled for 60 minutes, starting with a set of six 12-stroke sprints and then spending some good time out on the Mississippi in preparation for Saturday's race.
Joe and I did our usual loop of the harbor on a warm, breezy day Tuesday. Yesterday it was breezy again and the temperature exceeded 80 degrees Fahrenheit in the afternoon. Today it is cooler, with a high in the 50s expected, but it seems that our cool spells are getting less chilly and shorter in duration. I paddled for 60 minutes, starting with a set of six 12-stroke sprints and then spending some good time out on the Mississippi in preparation for Saturday's race.
Monday, April 16, 2018
Monday photo feature
How often does an ordinary guy like me get lumped together with the two best male Olympic sprint kayakers the United States has ever had? Not very often. But it happened here at Memphis in 2002, when Greg Barton and Mike Herbert were the top two finishers in the Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race, and I managed to beat everybody else to the finish line. Photo by my mom.
Greg and Mike are two of a number of "heavyweights" that have attended the OICK race over the years. But there's a lot more to the event than that. I consider it to be an annual celebration of this incredible natural resource our city has at its doorstep, and the wonderful recreational opportunities it affords. Park remodeling has doomed the event for this year but I hope it will be back better than ever in 2019.
Sunday, April 15, 2018
No racing in Memphis this year
This past week I got some bad news from my friend Joe, the director of the long-running Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race on the Mississippi River here at Memphis. This year's race, scheduled for June 16, has had to be called off. The reason is that Mississippi River Park, the park next to the finish line that has always been the site of the awards and other post-race festivities, will be closed for construction and remodeling during the month of June. Even though Joe had submitted his permit application to use the park back in January, the Riverfront Development Corporation, the private organization that contracts with the city to manage the public land along the riverfront, did not notify him of this closure until the week before last.
And so, the event that is typically the highlight of my season is off the schedule. I believe it will be sorely missed this year--not just by the canoe and kayak racing community, but by the entire city of Memphis as well, in ways that are less tangible but no less valid. The good news is that Joe says he intends to bring the event back in 2019. Here's hoping that racers will be back on the water with the full support of the R.D.C. and the city of Memphis, and that this year's loss will seem like nothing more than a blip in the history of this great tradition.
And so, the event that is typically the highlight of my season is off the schedule. I believe it will be sorely missed this year--not just by the canoe and kayak racing community, but by the entire city of Memphis as well, in ways that are less tangible but no less valid. The good news is that Joe says he intends to bring the event back in 2019. Here's hoping that racers will be back on the water with the full support of the R.D.C. and the city of Memphis, and that this year's loss will seem like nothing more than a blip in the history of this great tradition.
Feverish goings on this spring
This past week was a crazy one with a lot of out-of-the-boat things to deal with. I managed to do about all the training stuff I'd do in a normal week, but the time to write about it here proved elusive. Here's my attempt to make up for that.
I got in the usual three rounds of the strength routine this week: Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
At this time of year warmer weather is typically accompanied by strong winds, and that's what we had in the later part of the week. When Joe and I met to paddle on Tuesday, it was still calm, sunny, and cooler: the temperature was in the mid 50s Fahrenheit. By the time I got back in the boat on Thursday it had warmed up into the 70s and the wind was screaming out of the south. I dealt with it by staying in the harbor and arranging for a workout with the wind at my back. I warmed up paddling toward the mouth of the harbor, into the wind, and I did three 8-stroke sprints into the wind as well. Then I turned around and commenced the workout: ten 30-second sprints at three-minute intervals. Tiring as they were, the sprints felt good and smooth and fluid.
On Saturday I would be involved in an all-day event in the arts district where my workshop is, so I decided to paddle Friday afternoon. By then I was dead-dog tired, I guess from the strength routine that morning combined with all the things that had been going on all week. I felt as sluggish in the boat as I'd felt in a long time. The wind was blowing again, and I just tried to stay relaxed and paddle easy for 40 minutes.
Some heavy rain came through yesterday, and today we're immersed in the cooler air than moved in behind it. The temperature was in the mid 40s when I got down to the riverfront this morning, with a pretty stiff wind blowing out of the west. My usual Sunday routine is to do a longer paddle, but with a race coming up next weekend I didn't want to make it super long. So I paddled for 70 minutes, doing a set of eight 12-stroke sprints at two-minute intervals and then paddling on the fast side of medium the rest of the time. I paddled out on the Mississippi for a short while--I didn't stay out there long due to some towboat wakes intensified by the windy conditions. In any case, by the time I returned to the dock I was feeling better than I'd felt at the outset, and that was satisfying after Friday's lethargic session on the water.
I got in the usual three rounds of the strength routine this week: Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
At this time of year warmer weather is typically accompanied by strong winds, and that's what we had in the later part of the week. When Joe and I met to paddle on Tuesday, it was still calm, sunny, and cooler: the temperature was in the mid 50s Fahrenheit. By the time I got back in the boat on Thursday it had warmed up into the 70s and the wind was screaming out of the south. I dealt with it by staying in the harbor and arranging for a workout with the wind at my back. I warmed up paddling toward the mouth of the harbor, into the wind, and I did three 8-stroke sprints into the wind as well. Then I turned around and commenced the workout: ten 30-second sprints at three-minute intervals. Tiring as they were, the sprints felt good and smooth and fluid.
On Saturday I would be involved in an all-day event in the arts district where my workshop is, so I decided to paddle Friday afternoon. By then I was dead-dog tired, I guess from the strength routine that morning combined with all the things that had been going on all week. I felt as sluggish in the boat as I'd felt in a long time. The wind was blowing again, and I just tried to stay relaxed and paddle easy for 40 minutes.
Some heavy rain came through yesterday, and today we're immersed in the cooler air than moved in behind it. The temperature was in the mid 40s when I got down to the riverfront this morning, with a pretty stiff wind blowing out of the west. My usual Sunday routine is to do a longer paddle, but with a race coming up next weekend I didn't want to make it super long. So I paddled for 70 minutes, doing a set of eight 12-stroke sprints at two-minute intervals and then paddling on the fast side of medium the rest of the time. I paddled out on the Mississippi for a short while--I didn't stay out there long due to some towboat wakes intensified by the windy conditions. In any case, by the time I returned to the dock I was feeling better than I'd felt at the outset, and that was satisfying after Friday's lethargic session on the water.
Monday, April 9, 2018
Monday photo feature
The recent cold weather has me dreaming of warm sunny days, the kind of days when you can run a cool mountain stream with no layers on under your life jacket. That's what Billy Treadway and I did on the Pigeon River near Hartford, Tennessee, in the summer of 1993. Photo by Mike Davis.
Sunday, April 8, 2018
Cooling my enthusiasm
I was slow to get some new strength work going last week. I got back to doing some work on my rental property that I'd had to put aside for a while, and I didn't do anything Monday or Wednesday. On Friday I finally did a cursory round of the new routine, just to get my body used to doing something new.
The weather forecasters had predicted unseasonably cold weather for yesterday, and Mother Nature delivered. When I got up it was overcast and cold, with a howling north wind. I donned clothing I thought I'd worn for the last time this season and headed down to the river. When I arrived the temperature display in my car said it was 34 degrees Fahrenheit. The pogies came out of my bag and went back on my paddle... yarrgh.
I mentioned in my previous post that nothing should seem too bad after the weather I paddled in at the beginning of the year, but in a way today might have been worse: I've been saying for years that I'd rather paddle when it's 24 degrees and sunny and calm than when it's 34 degrees and overcast and windy.
But seeing as how there was not a thing I could do about the weather, I just got in my boat and started paddling. And from then on I felt fine. The hardest part of cold-weather paddling is not the paddling itself but the time spent on the dock readying the boat beforehand and putting it away afterward.
I warmed up by paddling to the north end of the harbor so I'd have a nice long stretch with the wind at my back. After doing three 8-stroke sprints, I did a workout consisting of eight two-minutes-on-two-minutes-off pieces.
It didn't warm up much while I was on the water. As I drove home my car said it was 36 degrees. The forecast high was in the mid 40s but I don't think it actually got out of the 30s yesterday.
When I got up this morning the temperature was right at freezing, but the sun was shining through a patchwork of clouds and the wind was lighter. With one of my longer races of the year coming up in two weeks I wanted to get in a good long paddle today. With the Mississippi River flowing at 27.5 feet on the Memphis gauge, there was plenty of water for a good unimpeded trip around the Loosahatchie Bar. By the time I got down to the river the temperature was up to 43 degrees and I got in my boat envisioning a lovely wilderness tour on a cool but sunny day.
But you know how that saying goes: "Man plans, God laughs," or something like that.
I paddled south from the marina, doing three 8-stroke sprints along the way. When I got to the mouth of the harbor I found heavy barge traffic out on the river: one rig had just passed by and was moving upriver under the Hernando DeSoto Bridge, and I could see two more coming up from the President's Island area. This would have been less of an issue in the middle of summer, but on a chilly day like today I didn't want to push my luck by ferrying across the river in a bunch of rough water.
As I was making this decision to stay on the Tennessee side, I realized I was stuck. The southern tip of Mud Island sort of plateaus as it slopes down into the water at the harbor's mouth, and at today's water level this plateau was no more than a couple of inches beneath the surface. My rudder had sunk deep into the mud and I spent a couple of minutes jerking the boat forward with my body to get it into deeper water. Once I was finally there I realized that my rudder's post had gotten bent so that the rudder would not swivel freely.
Exasperated, I muscled my boat across the harbor to the cobblestones, the nearest place where I could easily get out of the boat and fix the rudder. Of course, getting out of the boat someplace other than a dock means getting my feet wet, and with the waves created by that first barge rig crashing against the cobblestones, I got drenched up to my knees. I managed to get my pogies wet, too. And thickening clouds were beginning to cover up the sun. I was able to bend my rudder post back so that it functioned properly again, but by this time I was angry at everything--at the heavy commercial traffic on the river, at my failure to read the water in an area I've paddled through zillions of times, at the presence of February-like weather a week into April... everything.
I headed up the river, and it took me most of the way up to the mouth of the Wolf River to calm down and get my mind back on the task at hand. I paddled about a mile up the Wolf before turning around and coming back. When I got back to the Mississippi the last barge rig was passing by, and I paddled somewhat gingerly downriver in the ensuing turbulent water. The cold weather combined with my blown concentration had me in complete self-preservation mode.
Finally I was safely back in the harbor and I returned to the dock to finish up a 120-minute session. In the end I did get a good long paddle in, but it was nowhere near as enjoyable as I'd hoped for.
The weather forecasters had predicted unseasonably cold weather for yesterday, and Mother Nature delivered. When I got up it was overcast and cold, with a howling north wind. I donned clothing I thought I'd worn for the last time this season and headed down to the river. When I arrived the temperature display in my car said it was 34 degrees Fahrenheit. The pogies came out of my bag and went back on my paddle... yarrgh.
I mentioned in my previous post that nothing should seem too bad after the weather I paddled in at the beginning of the year, but in a way today might have been worse: I've been saying for years that I'd rather paddle when it's 24 degrees and sunny and calm than when it's 34 degrees and overcast and windy.
But seeing as how there was not a thing I could do about the weather, I just got in my boat and started paddling. And from then on I felt fine. The hardest part of cold-weather paddling is not the paddling itself but the time spent on the dock readying the boat beforehand and putting it away afterward.
I warmed up by paddling to the north end of the harbor so I'd have a nice long stretch with the wind at my back. After doing three 8-stroke sprints, I did a workout consisting of eight two-minutes-on-two-minutes-off pieces.
It didn't warm up much while I was on the water. As I drove home my car said it was 36 degrees. The forecast high was in the mid 40s but I don't think it actually got out of the 30s yesterday.
When I got up this morning the temperature was right at freezing, but the sun was shining through a patchwork of clouds and the wind was lighter. With one of my longer races of the year coming up in two weeks I wanted to get in a good long paddle today. With the Mississippi River flowing at 27.5 feet on the Memphis gauge, there was plenty of water for a good unimpeded trip around the Loosahatchie Bar. By the time I got down to the river the temperature was up to 43 degrees and I got in my boat envisioning a lovely wilderness tour on a cool but sunny day.
But you know how that saying goes: "Man plans, God laughs," or something like that.
I paddled south from the marina, doing three 8-stroke sprints along the way. When I got to the mouth of the harbor I found heavy barge traffic out on the river: one rig had just passed by and was moving upriver under the Hernando DeSoto Bridge, and I could see two more coming up from the President's Island area. This would have been less of an issue in the middle of summer, but on a chilly day like today I didn't want to push my luck by ferrying across the river in a bunch of rough water.
As I was making this decision to stay on the Tennessee side, I realized I was stuck. The southern tip of Mud Island sort of plateaus as it slopes down into the water at the harbor's mouth, and at today's water level this plateau was no more than a couple of inches beneath the surface. My rudder had sunk deep into the mud and I spent a couple of minutes jerking the boat forward with my body to get it into deeper water. Once I was finally there I realized that my rudder's post had gotten bent so that the rudder would not swivel freely.
Exasperated, I muscled my boat across the harbor to the cobblestones, the nearest place where I could easily get out of the boat and fix the rudder. Of course, getting out of the boat someplace other than a dock means getting my feet wet, and with the waves created by that first barge rig crashing against the cobblestones, I got drenched up to my knees. I managed to get my pogies wet, too. And thickening clouds were beginning to cover up the sun. I was able to bend my rudder post back so that it functioned properly again, but by this time I was angry at everything--at the heavy commercial traffic on the river, at my failure to read the water in an area I've paddled through zillions of times, at the presence of February-like weather a week into April... everything.
I headed up the river, and it took me most of the way up to the mouth of the Wolf River to calm down and get my mind back on the task at hand. I paddled about a mile up the Wolf before turning around and coming back. When I got back to the Mississippi the last barge rig was passing by, and I paddled somewhat gingerly downriver in the ensuing turbulent water. The cold weather combined with my blown concentration had me in complete self-preservation mode.
Finally I was safely back in the harbor and I returned to the dock to finish up a 120-minute session. In the end I did get a good long paddle in, but it was nowhere near as enjoyable as I'd hoped for.
Friday, April 6, 2018
New strength routine
(What follows is a re-post of something I wrote last year to explain the "Smart Bell" workout that will serve as my strength routine for the next little while.)
At my last teaching job in the 1990s I became good friends with the school's wrestling coach, and he introduced me to a thing called a Smart Bell, invented by a friend of his, U.S. National Team wrestler Paul Widerman. A Smart Bell is a steel object that sort of looks like a steering wheel; it is precisely balanced to facilitate numerous strength-in-motion exercises. My Smart Bell, more than 15 years old, weighs 15 pounds; it appears that modern-day Smart Bells are lighter. That suits my general attitude toward weight training, that the amount of weight is less important than precise technique.
I've got a set of Smart Bell exercises that my wrestling-coach friend showed me years ago. I've looked all over You Tube for video footage of these exercises, but haven't had much luck; perhaps one day I'll post videos of myself doing them. In the meantime, I'll point you to this video in which a guy does some of my exercises in one approximate form or another. (Actually, he does some other exercises I'd never seen before that I should consider incorporating into my routine.)
My routine goes like this:
1. Standing torso-twists (similar to what the guy is doing at 1:37 of the video)
2. Orbital circle (not on the video)
3. The Russian (what the guy is doing at 0:28)
4. Pushups, placing the Smart Bell on the floor and gripping it
5. Situps, holding the Smart Bell behind my head
6. Squats (what the guy is doing at 1:10)
7. Circle (what the guy is doing at 0:44)
8. Lunges (the guy does lunges at 1:23, but I do them with the Smart Bell behind my head, and I actually walk across the room)
At my last teaching job in the 1990s I became good friends with the school's wrestling coach, and he introduced me to a thing called a Smart Bell, invented by a friend of his, U.S. National Team wrestler Paul Widerman. A Smart Bell is a steel object that sort of looks like a steering wheel; it is precisely balanced to facilitate numerous strength-in-motion exercises. My Smart Bell, more than 15 years old, weighs 15 pounds; it appears that modern-day Smart Bells are lighter. That suits my general attitude toward weight training, that the amount of weight is less important than precise technique.
I've got a set of Smart Bell exercises that my wrestling-coach friend showed me years ago. I've looked all over You Tube for video footage of these exercises, but haven't had much luck; perhaps one day I'll post videos of myself doing them. In the meantime, I'll point you to this video in which a guy does some of my exercises in one approximate form or another. (Actually, he does some other exercises I'd never seen before that I should consider incorporating into my routine.)
My routine goes like this:
1. Standing torso-twists (similar to what the guy is doing at 1:37 of the video)
2. Orbital circle (not on the video)
3. The Russian (what the guy is doing at 0:28)
4. Pushups, placing the Smart Bell on the floor and gripping it
5. Situps, holding the Smart Bell behind my head
6. Squats (what the guy is doing at 1:10)
7. Circle (what the guy is doing at 0:44)
8. Lunges (the guy does lunges at 1:23, but I do them with the Smart Bell behind my head, and I actually walk across the room)
It really IS all relative
Spring is definitely here, but it hasn't yet taken the form of idyllic, tranquil, balmy days. When Joe and I got together to paddle Tuesday morning it was around 70 degrees Fahrenheit but the south wind was as fierce as anything I've paddled in in a long time.
By yesterday the conditions were calm, but a cool spell had set in. The temperature was barely over 50 degrees as I put my boat in the water for a 60-minute paddle. I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints in the harbor, and then did a fast ferry across the river to the Arkansas side and did a couple of long surges both up and down the river before returning to the harbor and heading back to the dock.
It's chilly and rainy today, and the forecast for tomorrow looks rather miserable. By April I'm starting to feel entitled to some lovely warm weather, and when we go through spells like this it's tempting to get all whiny and maybe even blow off a workout. This is why I think it's worthwhile to get myself out on the harshest winter days we get here in the Mid South: when I get down to the dock tomorrow and stand there in the unpleasant sub-40-degree weather that's predicted, I'll know deep down that it's really not that bad.
By yesterday the conditions were calm, but a cool spell had set in. The temperature was barely over 50 degrees as I put my boat in the water for a 60-minute paddle. I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints in the harbor, and then did a fast ferry across the river to the Arkansas side and did a couple of long surges both up and down the river before returning to the harbor and heading back to the dock.
It's chilly and rainy today, and the forecast for tomorrow looks rather miserable. By April I'm starting to feel entitled to some lovely warm weather, and when we go through spells like this it's tempting to get all whiny and maybe even blow off a workout. This is why I think it's worthwhile to get myself out on the harshest winter days we get here in the Mid South: when I get down to the dock tomorrow and stand there in the unpleasant sub-40-degree weather that's predicted, I'll know deep down that it's really not that bad.
Monday, April 2, 2018
Monday photo feature
Jake Stachovak and I depart downtown Memphis, bound for the Tunica Riverpark some 35 miles downstream, in December of 2010. Photo by Ernest Kelly.
Sunday, April 1, 2018
Computers don't compute everything
Yesterday's weather was breezy but otherwise lovely. When I got down to the riverfront the sun was out and the Fahrenheit temperature was in the mid 60s and rising toward a high in the low 70s. I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints, and then practiced my strokes at varying levels of intensity.
It was overcast and cooler when I got in the boat today, but the conditions were the calmest they'd been all week. It would have been a good day to paddle around the Loosahatchie Bar again, but having done that some four times already in 2018, I'm a little weary of it. I decided to stay on the Tennessee side instead.
I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints in the harbor, and then headed up the Mississippi. The paddle upriver was slow-going: at the current water level (24.6 feet on the Memphis gauge) there was a lot of swirly water along the bank but not many eddies to paddle up, and the north wind was blowing just hard enough to make me feel like I was fighting a bit. But I made it to the mouth of the Wolf River, and I figured the bottom section of the Wolf would be a good place to do a workout with my G.P.S. device. When the Mississippi is high like it is now, it backs up the Wolf for several miles and the water there is basically flatwater. That's what I'd always thought, anyway.
The plan was to do a four-minutes-on-four-minutes-off sort of thing, with the target pace for each "on" piece being about 7 miles per hour. But once I got started I found it very difficult to go more than 6.8 or so. I figured the wind had something to do with it, but even in places where I had good protection from the wind I struggled to hit 7 mph.
I paddled two miles up the Wolf, or about two tenths of a mile above the Danny Thomas Boulevard bridge, and then turned around. Coming back downriver I suddenly had no trouble at all going 7 mph; in fact, at times I exceeded 8 mph. Now, anybody reading this will tell me the obvious explanation--that there was in fact some current. But each time I paddled under a bridge I took a close look at the pilings and couldn't see any eddy lines coming off them.
I was quite puzzled about it all until I took some time to do the arithmetic in my head. Going up the Wolf my speed had been 6.5ish and coming back down it was 8.0ish, so the water must have been moving only about three quarters of a mile per hour, and that might not be enough to create any visible eddy lines. If I'm right about that, then my speed during the "on" pieces was in fact 7.2 or 7.3 mph, and that's pretty much what I'd wanted to do in the first place. In any case, today's experience was a good example of why I don't rely too heavily on a G.P.S. in my training: it's hard to get reliable information from it when you're doing an outdoor wilderness type of sport, even when the conditions seem as ideal as can be.
In all I did six cycles of the workout. The sixth piece actually took me back out onto the Mississippi, and on that mighty river I could go much faster: I got it up as high as 12.7 mph... world class, baby!
I was plenty tired by the time I was back in the harbor. I tried to relax and take good strokes all the way back to the dock. I listened to the baseball game as I drove home. Those mean old Mets had beaten the Cardinals twice to open the new season, but the Cardinals came back and won today.
It was overcast and cooler when I got in the boat today, but the conditions were the calmest they'd been all week. It would have been a good day to paddle around the Loosahatchie Bar again, but having done that some four times already in 2018, I'm a little weary of it. I decided to stay on the Tennessee side instead.
I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints in the harbor, and then headed up the Mississippi. The paddle upriver was slow-going: at the current water level (24.6 feet on the Memphis gauge) there was a lot of swirly water along the bank but not many eddies to paddle up, and the north wind was blowing just hard enough to make me feel like I was fighting a bit. But I made it to the mouth of the Wolf River, and I figured the bottom section of the Wolf would be a good place to do a workout with my G.P.S. device. When the Mississippi is high like it is now, it backs up the Wolf for several miles and the water there is basically flatwater. That's what I'd always thought, anyway.
The plan was to do a four-minutes-on-four-minutes-off sort of thing, with the target pace for each "on" piece being about 7 miles per hour. But once I got started I found it very difficult to go more than 6.8 or so. I figured the wind had something to do with it, but even in places where I had good protection from the wind I struggled to hit 7 mph.
I paddled two miles up the Wolf, or about two tenths of a mile above the Danny Thomas Boulevard bridge, and then turned around. Coming back downriver I suddenly had no trouble at all going 7 mph; in fact, at times I exceeded 8 mph. Now, anybody reading this will tell me the obvious explanation--that there was in fact some current. But each time I paddled under a bridge I took a close look at the pilings and couldn't see any eddy lines coming off them.
I was quite puzzled about it all until I took some time to do the arithmetic in my head. Going up the Wolf my speed had been 6.5ish and coming back down it was 8.0ish, so the water must have been moving only about three quarters of a mile per hour, and that might not be enough to create any visible eddy lines. If I'm right about that, then my speed during the "on" pieces was in fact 7.2 or 7.3 mph, and that's pretty much what I'd wanted to do in the first place. In any case, today's experience was a good example of why I don't rely too heavily on a G.P.S. in my training: it's hard to get reliable information from it when you're doing an outdoor wilderness type of sport, even when the conditions seem as ideal as can be.
In all I did six cycles of the workout. The sixth piece actually took me back out onto the Mississippi, and on that mighty river I could go much faster: I got it up as high as 12.7 mph... world class, baby!
I was plenty tired by the time I was back in the harbor. I tried to relax and take good strokes all the way back to the dock. I listened to the baseball game as I drove home. Those mean old Mets had beaten the Cardinals twice to open the new season, but the Cardinals came back and won today.
Friday, March 30, 2018
Continuing to get good work in
On Monday I did a round of the current strength routine. Tuesday was another warm and windy day. I was on my own to paddle because Joe was in an extended meeting, and as I was still feeling tired from Sunday's paddle as well as Monday's strength work, I decided a nice taut 60-minute sort of thing in the harbor was what I needed. I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints, and then paddled on the fast side of medium for the rest of the hour. I tried to keep my body relaxed, even when I was paddling into the teeth of that wind.
A bunch of rain moved through the Mid South Wednesday and yesterday. By the time I was in the boat yesterday morning it had just about moved out, but the wind was blowing again. I felt that another good "speedy" session was in order. I warmed up paddling south, into the wind, and then did three 8-stroke sprints with the wind at my back. Then I paddled south again, to the mouth of the harbor, and turned around for a good long downwind leg. When I reached the monorail bridge I timed myself from there to the Hernando DeSoto Bridge--a distance of about 450 meters. My time was a second or two under two minutes--very wind-aided, yes, but it's always nice to be able to break two minutes at this point in the season. I hope that a in a couple of months I'll be doing sets of four of these sprints all under two minutes. I spent the rest of the hour paddling a strong tempo.
I did rounds of the strength routine on Wednesday and today. I believe I'll come up with something
new for the month of April.
A bunch of rain moved through the Mid South Wednesday and yesterday. By the time I was in the boat yesterday morning it had just about moved out, but the wind was blowing again. I felt that another good "speedy" session was in order. I warmed up paddling south, into the wind, and then did three 8-stroke sprints with the wind at my back. Then I paddled south again, to the mouth of the harbor, and turned around for a good long downwind leg. When I reached the monorail bridge I timed myself from there to the Hernando DeSoto Bridge--a distance of about 450 meters. My time was a second or two under two minutes--very wind-aided, yes, but it's always nice to be able to break two minutes at this point in the season. I hope that a in a couple of months I'll be doing sets of four of these sprints all under two minutes. I spent the rest of the hour paddling a strong tempo.
I did rounds of the strength routine on Wednesday and today. I believe I'll come up with something
new for the month of April.
Monday, March 26, 2018
Monday photo feature
Having just competed in the Olympic Games the year before, the C2 team of Wayne Dickert and Horace Holden gets the 1997 season underway at the Nantahala Doubleheader.
It's been known for a few years now that the 2016 Olympics would be the last for this most fascinating of boat classes. In the 2020 Games at Tokyo, men's C2 will be replaced by women's C1. The purpose of the change is to bring about greater gender equity, and that's certainly an honorable goal. But the sad reality for what the IOC considers "fringe" sports is that the addition of female athletes must always be made at the expense of some male athletes.
Now, in a weekend announcement that practically nobody saw coming, the International Canoe Federation has declared that, effective immediately, men's C2 will no longer be contested at any of its elite-level international events (i.e., the world championships and the World Cup series). Any male C2 teams that have spent this past winter training are suddenly, inexplicably, out of luck. Slalom racers and fans around the globe are stunned and outraged.
Early-spring adventures
Saturday was a warm but windy day. The south wind was strong when I arrived at the river in the morning, and I stayed in the harbor, doing three 8-stroke sprints and then paddling at varying intensities with some balance drills in beam waves.
Yesterday it was quite a bit cooler--mid 50s Fahrenheit--and overcast and almost dead calm. I decided it was a good day to paddle around the Loosahatchie Bar and set off on my way, out of the harbor and up the Mississippi. Like I've said before, I never do this paddle as a time trial but I sort of aim to get it done in two hours or less. I was making good time as I paddled up past the Maynard C. Stiles sewage treatment plant and then ferried across the river.
Then, as I approached the north end of the Bar, a guy in a johnboat came over and started peppering me with questions about where a person might camp in the area and where the nearest road access on the Arkansas side was. I was annoyed at the interruption but tried my best to be polite and neighborly. We spoke for two or three minutes, but I probably lost a couple of minutes on top of that because we were drifting downstream the whole time.
Finally I continued on my way and paddled up to the top end of the Bar. The big flood of 2011 deposited a bunch of sand in this area, and at yesterday's river level (16.3 feet on the Memphis gauge) I found myself having to continue upstream to find an open passage into the Loosahatchie Chute. I thought I found one but it turned out to be only inches deep, and I ended up getting out of my boat and carrying it to deeper water. The sand was soft and I sank almost knee-deep several times.
Back in the boat I started down the Chute, but my shoes were full of sand and after a few minutes I decided the discomfort was more than I wanted to deal with for the forty minutes or so back to the dock. I stopped and took off my shoes--not the easiest thing to do on a tippy surf ski. The water was cold and I really didn't want to take a swim if I could help it. As it was, my legs were getting good and soaked as I struggled out of my shoes, rinsed them out, and gingerly slipped them back on.
At last I was on my way again, and there was now no way I would be breaking two hours, so I tried to relax and enjoy the environs. Even on this cloudy, chilly day, the Loosahatchie Chute is quite a beautiful place. Even though it's only maybe three miles from the concrete jungle of downtown Memphis, a person can feel like he's in a remote wilderness by paddling down into the Chute. Yesterday the water was as smooth as glass and reflected the trees on either bank.
I was getting pretty tired by the time I emerged at the downstream end of the Bar and paddled back into the main river channel toward the mouth of the harbor. I tried to take good strokes and keep the boat gliding. I ended up back at the marina about two hours and fifteen minutes after I'd started. On the dock in my wet clothes, I was chilled to the core and would spend the rest of the afternoon trying to get some warmth back into my body.
The stiffness in my upper back seems to be easing, and that's a figurative relief as well as a literal one. Four years ago I went through a period of months where I couldn't shake this ailment, and on some days the discomfort was enough to make me just plain miserable.
Yesterday it was quite a bit cooler--mid 50s Fahrenheit--and overcast and almost dead calm. I decided it was a good day to paddle around the Loosahatchie Bar and set off on my way, out of the harbor and up the Mississippi. Like I've said before, I never do this paddle as a time trial but I sort of aim to get it done in two hours or less. I was making good time as I paddled up past the Maynard C. Stiles sewage treatment plant and then ferried across the river.
Then, as I approached the north end of the Bar, a guy in a johnboat came over and started peppering me with questions about where a person might camp in the area and where the nearest road access on the Arkansas side was. I was annoyed at the interruption but tried my best to be polite and neighborly. We spoke for two or three minutes, but I probably lost a couple of minutes on top of that because we were drifting downstream the whole time.
Finally I continued on my way and paddled up to the top end of the Bar. The big flood of 2011 deposited a bunch of sand in this area, and at yesterday's river level (16.3 feet on the Memphis gauge) I found myself having to continue upstream to find an open passage into the Loosahatchie Chute. I thought I found one but it turned out to be only inches deep, and I ended up getting out of my boat and carrying it to deeper water. The sand was soft and I sank almost knee-deep several times.
Back in the boat I started down the Chute, but my shoes were full of sand and after a few minutes I decided the discomfort was more than I wanted to deal with for the forty minutes or so back to the dock. I stopped and took off my shoes--not the easiest thing to do on a tippy surf ski. The water was cold and I really didn't want to take a swim if I could help it. As it was, my legs were getting good and soaked as I struggled out of my shoes, rinsed them out, and gingerly slipped them back on.
At last I was on my way again, and there was now no way I would be breaking two hours, so I tried to relax and enjoy the environs. Even on this cloudy, chilly day, the Loosahatchie Chute is quite a beautiful place. Even though it's only maybe three miles from the concrete jungle of downtown Memphis, a person can feel like he's in a remote wilderness by paddling down into the Chute. Yesterday the water was as smooth as glass and reflected the trees on either bank.
I was getting pretty tired by the time I emerged at the downstream end of the Bar and paddled back into the main river channel toward the mouth of the harbor. I tried to take good strokes and keep the boat gliding. I ended up back at the marina about two hours and fifteen minutes after I'd started. On the dock in my wet clothes, I was chilled to the core and would spend the rest of the afternoon trying to get some warmth back into my body.
The stiffness in my upper back seems to be easing, and that's a figurative relief as well as a literal one. Four years ago I went through a period of months where I couldn't shake this ailment, and on some days the discomfort was enough to make me just plain miserable.
Friday, March 23, 2018
Getting back down to business
I spent Saturday night in Ocean Springs, and Sunday morning I went down to the "East Beach" section of the waterfront to do a 60-minute paddle. A dense fog hung over the seascape and I made sure to keep the shoreline in sight. I paddled along this piece of Mississippi Sound to the entrance to the Back Bay of Biloxi, under the U.S. 90 bridge, around the rotating section of the railroad bridge, and back to where I'd parked at East Beach.
I drove through a few masses of rain and got home about 6:00 PM CDT. I spent the next couple of days getting back into the routine, doing the strength routine on Monday and paddling with Joe on Tuesday. The weather was warm and sunny Monday but breezy, overcast, drizzly, and chilly on Tuesday.
On Wednesday I stayed in and did another round of the strength routine. By Thursday the weather was still cool but nice and sunny again as I put my boat in the water. I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints and then paddled a decent tempo out on the river. The river is dropping fast now: it was down to 24.6 feet on the Memphis gauge Thursday morning. Places like the Greenbelt Park are no longer flooded.
I woke up this morning stiff and sore in my upper back, right in the middle between the shoulder blades. It's similar to some discomfort I dealt with four years ago that lasted for months. I can't think of anything I did to cause it other than maybe sleeping on it wrong, but I hope this won't be a long-lasting ailment. I was very tempted to skip the strength routine today but I sucked it up and got that done, and I think I'm feeling slightly better as a result. At least the area is warmed up.
I drove through a few masses of rain and got home about 6:00 PM CDT. I spent the next couple of days getting back into the routine, doing the strength routine on Monday and paddling with Joe on Tuesday. The weather was warm and sunny Monday but breezy, overcast, drizzly, and chilly on Tuesday.
On Wednesday I stayed in and did another round of the strength routine. By Thursday the weather was still cool but nice and sunny again as I put my boat in the water. I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints and then paddled a decent tempo out on the river. The river is dropping fast now: it was down to 24.6 feet on the Memphis gauge Thursday morning. Places like the Greenbelt Park are no longer flooded.
I woke up this morning stiff and sore in my upper back, right in the middle between the shoulder blades. It's similar to some discomfort I dealt with four years ago that lasted for months. I can't think of anything I did to cause it other than maybe sleeping on it wrong, but I hope this won't be a long-lasting ailment. I was very tempted to skip the strength routine today but I sucked it up and got that done, and I think I'm feeling slightly better as a result. At least the area is warmed up.
Monday, March 19, 2018
Monday photo feature
We canoe and kayak racers are a frugal bunch, and we don't pass up an opportunity to couch-surf at friends' houses while traveling to races. This past weekend I stayed with my friend Nick Kinderman in Ocean Springs, and he even provided me with a sure-enough bed.
Nick shares his home with this beautiful Australian shepherd. Her name is Sierra, and she's extremely protective of her master and wary of strangers like me. I'm usually pretty good at making friends with animals, but I've never quite been able to win Sierra over. My offers of petting are always greeted with low growls, and when I move about the house she wants to "herd" me by nipping at my ankles.
Oh well... I love her anyway. I wouldn't be much of a human being not to love a pretty and loyal creature like Sierra.
Sunday, March 18, 2018
Race schedule update
Now that the year's first race is under my belt, I reckon it's a good time to have a look at what's still to come in 2018. What follows is a list of races that are on my radar.
I'll mention once more that I probably won't make it to every single one of these events, and there may well be an event or two that I will make it to that I don't yet know about. This schedule is the proverbial "working document" and it will probably remain so as the year goes along.
April
7 Top Of The Teche. Bayou Teche, Leonville, Louisiana, to Arnaudville, Louisiana. 7.7 miles down a Class I river. Register
7 Kayak Trader Oyster City Challenge. Apalachicola River, Apalachicola, Florida. 15 miles down a coastal river. Register
21 Bluz Cruz Canoe and Kayak Race. Mississippi River from Madison Parish Port, Louisiana, to Vicksburg, Mississippi. 21 miles down the largest river in North America. Register
May
12 Osage Spring 12. Osage River near Osage City, Missouri. 12 miles total (10 miles downriver and then 2 miles back up) on a Class I river. Register
12 Bluegrass River Run. Kentucky River near Richmond, Kentucky. 19 miles down a Class I river. Register
June
9 Taylorsville Lake Paddle Battle. Taylorsville Lake, Taylorsville, Kentucky. A 10-mile flatwater race. Register
16 Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race. Mississippi River, Memphis, Tennessee. The 37th edition of this classic. 5000 meters down the largest river in North America. Register
July
7 The Lovely Laurel River Lake Paddle Blast. Laurel River Lake, Corbin, Kentucky. A 10-mile flatwater race. Register
16-21 Gorge Downwind Championships. Columbia River, Hood River, Oregon. A race for surf skis and outrigger canoes in the legendary downwind conditions of the Columbia River Gorge.
August
4 The Paddle Grapple. Fontana Reservoir near Bryson City, North Carolina. A 6-mile flatwater race. Register
9-12 U.S. Canoe Association National Championships. Onondaga Lake and Erie Canal, Syracuse, New York. Marathon races in a variety of boat classes sanctioned by the USCA.
September
1 Big River Regional. Mississippi River, Baton Rouge, Louisiana. 13 miles down the largest river in North America.
8 Lower Atchafalaya Sprints. Atchafalaya River, Patterson, Louisiana. A series of 3-mile races on flatwater. Register
22 Gator Bait Race. Barnett Reservoir outside Jackson, Mississippi. A 5.5-mile flatwater race. Register
29 River Rat Paddle Challenge. Ouachita River at Monroe, Louisiana. 6.5 miles on a Class I river.
I'll mention once more that I probably won't make it to every single one of these events, and there may well be an event or two that I will make it to that I don't yet know about. This schedule is the proverbial "working document" and it will probably remain so as the year goes along.
April
7 Top Of The Teche. Bayou Teche, Leonville, Louisiana, to Arnaudville, Louisiana. 7.7 miles down a Class I river. Register
7 Kayak Trader Oyster City Challenge. Apalachicola River, Apalachicola, Florida. 15 miles down a coastal river. Register
21 Bluz Cruz Canoe and Kayak Race. Mississippi River from Madison Parish Port, Louisiana, to Vicksburg, Mississippi. 21 miles down the largest river in North America. Register
May
12 Osage Spring 12. Osage River near Osage City, Missouri. 12 miles total (10 miles downriver and then 2 miles back up) on a Class I river. Register
12 Bluegrass River Run. Kentucky River near Richmond, Kentucky. 19 miles down a Class I river. Register
June
9 Taylorsville Lake Paddle Battle. Taylorsville Lake, Taylorsville, Kentucky. A 10-mile flatwater race. Register
16 Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race. Mississippi River, Memphis, Tennessee. The 37th edition of this classic. 5000 meters down the largest river in North America. Register
July
7 The Lovely Laurel River Lake Paddle Blast. Laurel River Lake, Corbin, Kentucky. A 10-mile flatwater race. Register
16-21 Gorge Downwind Championships. Columbia River, Hood River, Oregon. A race for surf skis and outrigger canoes in the legendary downwind conditions of the Columbia River Gorge.
August
4 The Paddle Grapple. Fontana Reservoir near Bryson City, North Carolina. A 6-mile flatwater race. Register
9-12 U.S. Canoe Association National Championships. Onondaga Lake and Erie Canal, Syracuse, New York. Marathon races in a variety of boat classes sanctioned by the USCA.
September
1 Big River Regional. Mississippi River, Baton Rouge, Louisiana. 13 miles down the largest river in North America.
8 Lower Atchafalaya Sprints. Atchafalaya River, Patterson, Louisiana. A series of 3-mile races on flatwater. Register
22 Gator Bait Race. Barnett Reservoir outside Jackson, Mississippi. A 5.5-mile flatwater race. Register
29 River Rat Paddle Challenge. Ouachita River at Monroe, Louisiana. 6.5 miles on a Class I river.
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