Late-summer doldrums

It's been a mostly unremarkable week of paddling.  The remnants of Hurricane Laura are passing through the Memphis area today and I'd been hopeful of some downwind conditions out on the Mississippi, but instead we're just having a lot of rain with not particularly strong winds.  So I stayed in and worked on the house.

I paddled a loop of the harbor with Joe on Tuesday.  The weather was warm but not too humid.  By yesterday it was a different story: during my time on the water the temperature was moderate but the humidity was through the roof.

Yesterday's session consisted of a set of 8-stroke sprints and some steady paddling out on the river.

As for some better news, I think I'm having some improvement in that arm achiness.  I've been doing the exercises that my chiropractor showed me, and pretty soon I'd like to get a strength routine going again.

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Monday photo feature

 

Eric Mims of Hermitage, Tennessee, catches his breath after beating yours truly across the finish line at the 2006 Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race.  We took third and fourth place overall in the annual race on the Mississippi River at Memphis.  Greg Barton of Seattle, Washington, was first overall, with Mike Herbert of Rogers, Arkansas, taking second.

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Another summer weekend

I met Adam Davis at 10 o'clock yesterday morning and we paddled for 90 minutes.  Adam's G.P.S. device recorded where we went:

There are stories behind the zigs and zags.  There was a barge rig coming upriver as we left the harbor, and the scribble at Mile 2 is the surfing we did on its wake.  Later, as we made our way up the Arkansas bank (the left side of this map, despite the misleading placement of the words "Tennessee" and "Arkansas"), we had to paddle around the ends of wing dams that were exposed at the Memphis gauge reading of 4.2 feet.  That's why those sharp corners are there just before Mile 5 and Mile 6.

I was back in the boat this morning doing all the usual things in a 60-minute session.  I warmed up.  Did some 8-stroke sprints.  Worked on my forward stroke.  Surfed on some big, fast-moving waves churned up by a barge rig hurrying downstream.

After a very nice week, it's sort of getting hot again today.  But soon the temperatures will be milder once again with chances of rain as tropical storms Marco and Laura move in to the southern United States.

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Even in retirement, he's still coaching people like me

William T. Endicott spent many years as the coach of the U.S. whitewater team that competed internationally in slalom and wildwater racing.  On his watch, the U.S. team became a medal-winning force in a sport that had long been dominated by European nations.

Over the years, Endicott wrote a series of books about the physical and mental aspects of canoe and kayak racing.  I own them all, and they were a huge influence on my ideas of why I participate in paddlesports and what it means to be a lifelong athlete.

Endicott has written a new essay in which he looks back on his experiences.  The essay is posted on the Potomac Whitewater Racing Center website.  The PWRC, formerly known as the Bethesda Center of Excellence, and before that the Canoe Cruisers Association Slalom Division, is Endicott's home club and produced many of this country's most successful whitewater racers.

Most of this new essay consists of ideas Endicott expressed in his earlier writings, so there's not a whole lot that's entirely new to me.  "Fascination with the process" is a concept that pervades practically every Endicott piece I've ever read.  But reading this essay has provided a shot of inspiration in the current challenging times.

At one point in the essay Endicott quotes the Greek philosopher Epictetus: "Man is not disturbed by events, but by his opinion of the events."  He goes on to say, "[The quote] reminded me to focus on the positive, what to do about the situation, and not just to wallow in the negative."

That sums up my own reaction to the COVID-19 pandemic.  Back in the spring, when the shock of the viral threat was still fresh, I knew it was important not to let this be a "wasted" year, that I should spend it on projects and activities that I can look back on with satisfaction later.

I'm not going to pretend that I have successfully located the key to inner peace.  There have been moments when I have allowed the negative aspects of the pandemic--the cancelation of so many events I look forward to, the inability to travel, the feelings of isolation as I sit home alone--to plunge me into despair.

But in spite of that, I have kept moving, both in and out of the boat.  In my non-athletic life, the pandemic has dampened demand for my woodworking services, so I've used the extra time to tackle home-improvement projects that had needed doing for years.  Some of these projects are rather ambitious, messy, and intimidating, and that's why I'd put them off as long as I had, but now that I've dived in I'm slowly producing some satisfying results.

As far as paddling goes, the pandemic has more or less wiped out my race season.  There are a few races going on here and there, but so far I've been skittish about hitting the road.  Instead, I've kept up my paddling routine here at home.  With no races to do, I've done practically no "work" workouts (timed intervals and the like), but I've eagerly pursued "play" workout opportunities and worked a lot on skills and technique, putting together a year in which my volume and intensity of training are not much shy of normal.

The experience has reminded me that racing is not the primary reason that I paddle.  I've said in years past that the real fulfillment comes from the routine of going down to the river a few times each week, where I enjoy some time in the outdoors, get some exercise, and look for ways to paddle my boat a little bit better. That's what Bill Endicott calls "fascination with the process."

This week Joe and I did our regular loop of the harbor on Tuesday.  And then yesterday I paddled for 70 minutes.  After warming up and doing three 8-stroke sprints in the harbor, I paddled down the Mississippi to the Harahan Bridge and came back up along the Arkansas bank.  There was a barge rig coming downriver as I was ferrying back to the Tennessee side, so I grabbed a quick "play" workout on its wake.  The waves were moving a bit too fast for me to get any kind of lengthy ride, but my attempts amounted to a good set of hard sprints.

Just in case you're reading this and would like to check out Endicott's writing yourself: I typed "William T. Endicott" into the search field on Amazon, and discovered that quite a few of his books can still be had.  His older books on whitewater racing are now out-of-print collector's items, and the copies on Amazon are rather pricey, but worth the investment for the person who's fascinated by our sport's history.  Meanwhile, there's a much more recent book about French slalom world champion Fabien Lefevre, as well as a 2003 book about Endicott's "day job" working on Capitol Hill, An Insider's Guide to Political Jobs in Washington.  Wherever you wish to start, you won't be disappointed by the lessons Endicott offers.

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Monday photo feature

There's a broken toe inside the right shoe, and it hurts.  But at this moment I'm enjoying a respite from that and all my other worries.  Saturday morning was ideal for flipping the boat and enjoying the cool water for a few minutes.  Kata Dismukes and Adam Davis chose to stay in their boats, and it was their loss.

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Grouping up! (But not too close)

Saturday morning brought an activity I hadn't seen in a while: a group paddle.  I was planning to meet Adam Davis like I had many times this year, but this time he recruited several additional people: Kata Dismukes, Ralph Dismukes, and Fancher Smith.  Our fivesome paddled from the harbor up to the mouth of the Wolf River and back.

As we made our way up the Mississippi there was a huge barge rig churning upriver, and as it pulled even with us I decided to ferry out and see what kind of surfing I could achieve.  The waves were moving quite fast and I was having trouble getting up enough speed to catch anything.  Eventually, as I fell back onto the smaller swells, I managed to get a couple of decent rides.  Here's a look at the best moment:

For some reason my Go Pro camera didn't record any sound for this footage.  Or maybe it got lost when I imported the file into the iMovie application on my laptop... I'm not sure.  I've been having all kinds of glitches like that and I guess I need to figure out where the problem is.

Anyway... after that set of hard sprints I had to get back over to the Tennessee bank and then paddle a strong pace to rejoin the group, so I got my workout in for the day.  The rest of the session was spent paddling a leisurely pace and enjoying the lovely morning.

I was tired in the boat this morning, and aside from a set of three 8-stroke sprints, I kept the intensity pretty low.  There was no motorized traffic out on the river and I paddled a relaxed loop out there.

We're having yet another period of uncharacteristically pleasant weather for August in the Mid South.  After that really nice spell we had about ten days ago, I thought for sure the oppressive heat would be back with a vengeance.  But for most of this summer we've gotten off pretty easy.  I don't understand it, but I'm not complaining.  And I'm especially happy for those who lack decent air conditioning or other ways to escape the heat.  The usual practice during a major heat wave is for the city to provide some sort of "cooling centers" for such citizens--typically community centers or similar public spaces--but the pandemic presents a challenge because more space is needed for adequate social distancing.

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Sean Rice talks about wash riding

Pasted below is a piece that appeared on the Think Surfski Company's Face Book page.  World-class racer Sean Rice discusses "wash riding" (also known as wake riding) as an invaluable racing skill.

I've employed wake riding in my racing for many years now, and if you look back on my past race reports you'll see that I mention it often.  I don't guess there's much information below that I didn't already know on some level.  Nevertheless, I was fascinated to read Mr. Rice's thoughts on it, and I think it's very important to see what others have to say about something you think you're doing well.  I'm always reassured when one of the world's most accomplished paddlers affirms something I'm doing, and I've also found that such a person can offer angles on a familiar topic that I hadn't considered before.

Sean Rice - Wash Riding

THINK SURFSKI USA·FRIDAY, 14 AUGUST 2020·7 MINUTES

Surfski racing is a dynamic sport, beloved by many of its participants for the opportunity to test their skills as an ocean paddler – which could be described as an art form when done at a high level. Wind and waves add “x-factor” elements to surfski races that separate the purely fit paddlers from those that know how to use the energy in the water to their full advantage.

Still, it is a race. And when paddlers are locked into a competition, tactics and strategy are just as essential as strength, endurance and ocean prowess. One of the most “interactive” skill sets a paddler needs to race tactically and be competitive: wash riding. Wash riding, the watersports version of drafting in cycling, amounts to riding the waves put off by another paddler’s boat, to the sides and at their stern. The ability to do this competently allows you to conserve energy, hang with faster paddlers and keep tabs on the competition.

World Champion surfski paddler Sean Rice has raced all over the world, on all types of courses and against the best competitors in the sport. No stranger to race tactics and planning, Sean has shared his thoughts with us on wash riding for the competitive paddler, and gives some great insight into the intricacies that make it such a vital skill.

Many surfski events have portions or even entire courses of flatwater – whether by design or lack of wind on race day. Paddlers tend to group up in these conditions, much like marathon racing. Given this fact, do you consider wash riding an essential skill for surfski racers?

Sean: Wash riding (also referred to as slip or wake riding) is an essential skill for any surfski paddler. If done correctly wash riding can save you a lot of energy and can very well have an impact on the tactics you may use in a race. Even in the roughest of conditions you will see the top guys paddling nose to tail, heading along trying to get some help from whatever wave there might be coming off the person who is leading. The only time you don’t ride wave is during any sort of downwind, or where you are chasing swells. It’s also a good idea to give the wave riding a miss in the surf zone.

Is it a skill you recommend practicing with other paddlers? How frequently?

Sean: Like any skill this one takes practice – lots of practice! But once you get it right then life becomes a whole lot easier! You can save valuable energy while others do the work. Sounds pretty cool right?! Practice wave riding whenever you can. The next time you have a faster paddler passing you on the water try your best to hop onto their wave. It might only be 20 seconds of help but soon you will be able to “hang” there indefinitely. If you paddle in a group then get everyone to try forming a racing pack. You will improve quickly.

How much effort do you conserve while riding the wake of another paddler?

Sean: It’s hard to say because this depends on a few variables. Of course the water conditions will influence the wave, but also the speed the leader is going will affect the angle of the wave coming off their boat. The faster the pace then the less of an angle the wave will be at, making it slightly more difficult to ride. If the pace is fast then move the position of your boat slightly further back to compensate for the change in angle of the wave. Heavier guys also give off a larger wave than the light guys so try line yourself up next to some one like me and you should get a great ride! You can easily save 10-20% effort depending on those variables.

If it is just you and one other paddler, where is the best place to position yourself to catch the best wave off of their boat?

Sean: If the water is calm enough the best place to be is on either side of the person who is pulling (leading). The closer you can sit to the person who is pulling the bigger their wash will be and of course the more support you will get.

Here are some rough rules:

• Try to position the tip of the nose of your boat just next to or behind where the pullers paddle comes out the water
• Always make sure your nose is angled down hill so that you are surfing down the wave and not climbing over it. You will feel the difference quickly, believe me!
• Gently steer away from the person who is pulling, as the angle of the wave will pull your boat towards their boat. If you get that “pull” feeling its a good thing, because it means you are actually surfing the wave. Just like a stand up surfer surfs a wave.

Is there a second position to go for if you can’t catch that primary wake?

Sean: The next best place to sit is on the tail of the person who is pulling. Leave roughly 20-30cm worth of space between the nose of your boat and their tail. This wake is smaller but in bumpy conditions far easier to ride than the side wave.

If you are paddling in a pack of racers, of three or more, can you position yourself to take advantage of multiple wakes?

Sean: Yes, once 4 paddlers come together this creates a diamond. The person at the back position will be “on the diamond” – and they will be smiling, as they will get the benefit of the 3 other paddlers’ wakes and can save even more energy. It’s a nice ride! The only problem with being on the diamond is that you are vulnerable to any movement in the bunch that might spit you out the back of the group.

Is wash riding only viable in dead flat water, or can you draft off another paddler when the water has a little texture to it?

Sean: Depending on your skill level you can use the back wave to great effect even in bumpy conditions. This is especially true when heading into strong winds.

Are there ethics involved? Do paddlers typically share the workload when wash riding is involved in a race? What are the thoughts on a paddler riding someone’s wake for the majority of a race, then sprinting around at the finish line for the win?

Sean: There are some rules, yes:

• Never bash into the pullers paddle
• NEVER bash into the ANYONES paddle! If you do then say sorry nicely
• Of course everyone should try do the same amount of work, BUT keep an eye on the general speed of the group, as letting the weaker guys pull for too long so that you can rest might slow the overall pace down without you realizing.
• Riding wake the whole way and then sprinting away at the end is often done. It’s not cool but then at the same time the person who has been pulling for so long needs to rethink their race strategy. There will always be the argument that “a race is a race” – but try to race with some integrity – of course that’s up to each paddlers discretion.

Will riding a faster paddler’s wake in training help you to become a faster paddler yourself?

Sean: Yes, it’s the simple theory of placing the carrot in front of a donkey to get it to walk forwards. If you can ride wave well then there’s no reason why you can’t finish with guys who are 10-20% faster than you

It can probably get easy to fall into the rhythm of riding other paddler’s wake during a race, which takes some of the strain off. When do you know it is time to attack and make your move to drop the pack!

Sean: It’s always time to attack! Ha ha…well no, not really. You need to make sure that when you make a move that it counts. Do it when you think you have the most advantage, look for the inside line etc. If you feel the other paddlers in the pack are beginning to hold a pace slower than you are comfortable with, then time to go.

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Bonecrushin' fun

I had a freak accident in my home Sunday evening.  I slipped on a wet floor and smashed my right foot into a chair leg, breaking the pinky toe.  There's not a whole lot you can do for a broken toe besides let it heal, but I did visit my doctor Monday just in case it needed to be reset.  It didn't, but at least I got X-ray confirmation that there is in fact a fracture.

So here I am dealing with some pain I could have done without.  In most respects I'm able to function as before, but I'm walking with a limp and having to be careful not to put any undue stress on the area.

On Tuesday I paddled for the first time since the accident, and the toe didn't hurt any worse in the boat than out of it.  Joe and I paddled a loop of the harbor and I performed okay with my neoprene shoes on and my feet against the footboard under the foot strap.

I was back in the boat this morning, and as I paddled out of the harbor I came across a through-paddler: a lady named Ann arrived in Memphis this morning some two months after her journey started at Lake Itasca in Minnesota.  She's headed for the Gulf of Mexico, and I wish her all the best.

I went on out to the Mississippi and looped above the Hernando DeSoto Bridge and back.  I paddled a pretty strong pace and felt good.

Back here at home, my foot hurts.  I'm told it'll take around 30 days for me to be able to stress it normally again, and a couple of months or more for the bone to heal completely.  Not much I can do but grit my teeth and endure it.

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Monday photo feature

The 1960s and 70s were the golden age of whitewater canoeing in the United States, and I sometimes lament having missed out.  But I did get into the sport soon enough to witness scenes like the one in this photograph.  A big open canoe seems awfully clunky by today's standards, especially when the paddler is just kneeling in the bottom of it with his rear end against a thwart, without the aid of thigh straps or a pedestal. But that's how we paddled when I was a kid at summer camp in the early 1980s.

We practiced on the lake in aluminum canoes, and for river trips the camp owned a trailer of six "OCAs" manufactured by the Blue Hole company of Sunbright, Tennessee.  In any given summer each craft saw an untold number of pairs of campers hopping in and out, so there was no custom outfitting in those boats.

Somehow, we learned and executed all the basic whitewater moves: ferries, eddy turns, peelouts, even some surfing like the man is doing in the photo above.  It's hard to believe that my little 110-pound frame could push one of those barges around, but that was the point: you got the river to do as much of the work as possible.

Eventually I wandered into whitewater slalom racing, where I had a much more nimble boat to paddle and had to develop a more sophisticated skill set.  Then I moved on to paddling surfskis on flatwater and open water, where both the boats and the paddle strokes are quite different from anything I'd done before.  But the basic idea remains the same: use my body in combination with the forces of nature to move my boat.

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How can I make a hater understand?

Adam Davis and I got together for a rousing 100-minute paddle yesterday morning.  We met beneath the A.W. Willis Avenue bridge in the harbor, and paddled out of the harbor and up the Mississippi until we'd covered five miles; then we came back down.  Adam's G.P.S. device shows the world where we went:

As we approached the Hernando DeSoto Bridge there was a big barge rig coming upriver.  While Adam paused to take a selfie, I headed for its wake to see what kind of surfing could be had.  I'm the little speck at about two o'clock from the top of Adam's head:

Unfortunately, the pilot apparently didn't like my idea at all: he throttled down the engines, and the wake died down.  When I tried to do something on the waves that were left, he gave me about six angry blasts on his horn.  So I stopped paddling and hoped he'd be appeased and turn his attention elsewhere.

I was genuinely puzzled.  Most towboat pilots don't seem to care when I play around on their wakes.  Maybe this one was simply not aware that it's a reasonably safe thing to do for a paddler of a certain fitness and skill level.  I was never anywhere near close enough to his stern to worry about getting sucked into the screws.  Maybe the guy just doesn't like other people having fun while he's at work.

Oh well... I tried to shrug off any hurt feelings and return to the harbor feeling good about starting my weekend with ten miles in the boat.

Summer is back in the Mid South.  The Fahrenheit temperature is rising into the 90s for the first time in a surprisingly long while.  This afternoon the heat index reached triple digits, but out on the river this morning it didn't seem too bad yet.  After warming up and doing three 8-stroke sprints, I went out onto the river hoping to find some friendlier towboat pilots.  But the river was deserted, so I just paddled steady and enjoyed the sunshine.

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Taking on my physical woes, enjoying some lovely weather, and, of course, paddling my boat

I haven't mentioned it in a while, but I've continued to have that feeling of dull achiness in my arms.  Last Thursday I finally got myself to the chiropractor's office to see what she had to say about it.  She made some adjustments that she said would take some pressure off those muscles, and she showed me a few simple exercises that I can do.  So I've been doing them daily since then, and I'm scheduled to visit her office again next Thursday.  Right now it's hard to say for sure, but there might be some improvement.  I'll keep on doing my homework and see how it goes.

I had to miss my usual Tuesday paddle with Joe because I had to take my mother to the doctor, where she underwent a procedure.  I got out Wednesday instead, and felt good in the boat during a spirited 70-minute session.  I did three 8-stroke sprints in the harbor and did an energetic loop out on the Mississippi.  A barge rig was coming upriver as I headed back toward the harbor, so I spent a few minutes trying to surf the small waves it was producing.  The waves were somewhat low-amplitude and not clearly defined, but I managed to get one pretty good ride.  That was enough to have me feeling good as I re-entered the harbor and paddled back to the dock.

The mild weather has continued this week.  Wednesday and yesterday both were among the most gorgeous days we've had all year, with sunshine, temperatures around 83 degrees Fahrenheit, a cool north breeze, and moderate humidity.  I savored every bit of it that I could, knowing that it's unlikely to last.  When I got to the river this morning the weather wasn't bad, but the breeze was more west-southwesterly and not as cooling, and some mugginess was starting to creep back in.

I warmed up and did another three 8-strokers, then paddled a loop out on the river at a strong pace with some long surges thrown in.  There was no motorized traffic on the river at all, so I just concentrated on taking good strokes and keeping the boat running smoothly.

The high this afternoon was in the low 90s.  The temperature is supposed to be up around 95 this weekend.  That sounds more like the August I know.

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Monday photo feature

As Adam Davis and I were paddling in the Loosahatchie Chute a couple of Sundays ago, a low-flying airplane came cruising upriver.

The plane had taken off from DeWitt Spain Airport, located on the eastern bank of the Mississippi north of downtown Memphis.  The airfield is a base for a number of recreational pilots, and a paddler who goes out on a sunny weekend is likely to have lots of small planes buzzing overhead.


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Sure doesn't feel like August

Yesterday morning seemed like a day in late October or early November.  There was a steady drizzle falling outside and the temperature was 71 degrees Fahrenheit--not exactly chilly, but much cooler than normal for this time of year.

I went downtown and warmed up in the boat, doing three 8-stroke sprints, and then headed out onto the Mississippi.  The river was calm and completely free of commercial traffic, and I was okay with that because I was feeling a bit tired in the boat.  I paddled mostly easy for 60 minutes.

The sun came out today but it was still unseasonably mild; I think the high this afternoon was in the mid to high 80s.  I was feeling a bit more energetic and paddled a stronger pace with a few surges.  I was in the boat for 110 minutes.

The forecast says that the mild weather will continue for the next few days, with highs in the mid and even low 80s and overnight lows in the 60s.  I'll try to enjoy it while it lasts.  It looks like summer might be back to its normal self by next weekend.

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Some mild weather fun

The milder weather brought to us by the outer bands of Hurricane Hanna has continued this week.  Most days the Fahrenheit high has been in the upper 80s, the humidity has been moderate, and breezes have provided some relief.

Joe and I paddled a loop of the harbor on Tuesday.  The sky was full of pretty cloud formations--another benefit of this unsettled weather.

When I got downtown yesterday morning there was quite a stiff south wind blowing.  Summertime is not normally a windy time of year here and I haven't been paying attention to the wind forecast website I use, but I'm guessing it was blowing somewhere in the neighborhood of 20 knots yesterday.  As I warmed up and did a set of three 8-stroke sprints, I anticipated some possible downwind conditions out on the Mississippi.

When I got out there, what I found were conditions that were not very big--it wasn't going to be "surf city" or anything--but defined enough to enable some work on my skills.  In some ways I find the small bumps more intimidating than the bigger stuff; the water is choppier and makes balance trickier.  And any run you catch is brief, so you have to keep working to find new ones.

I spent the better part of an hour trying to apply the downwind principles I've learned over the last couple of years in places like False Bay in South Africa and the Columbia River Gorge in the Pacific Northwest.  I was having enough fun that I would have liked to stay out longer, but I had things to do at home, and I could tell I was getting tired and wouldn't be able to do good work much longer, so I returned to the harbor and headed for the dock.  Until the next downwind opportunity...

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Monday photo feature

A group of paddlers gets ready to put in at Miller's Point, where the legendary Miller's Run in South Africa's False Bay begins.  Most of them them are masked: riding in a van full of people is probably the biggest risk to their health in this endeavor.

In any case, I'm glad to see people paddling there.  South Africans were barred from paddling or any other ocean-based endeavors for about three months, and I was genuinely concerned for the people I know there.  The freedom to go out and paddle has made all the difference in preserving my own mental health in Pandemic Times, and I can't even imagine what it was like to live within spitting distance of the Miller's Run and not even be allowed to put your boat in the water.

Eventually the South African authorities began to allow licensed fishermen back on the water, so paddlers started buying fishing licenses and venturing out there as well.  Then the national canoe/kayak federation negotiated an agreement with authorities to make paddling legal once more.


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A nicer-than-usual summer weekend

I woke up yesterday morning and saw the sun rising in a clear sky, and braced myself for another scorching hot day.  But then I headed out to paddle and found that it wasn't nearly so bad.  My car's temperature display told me it was 85 degrees Fahrenheit, quite a few clouds had moved in to keep the sun at bay, and down on the riverfront there was a very pleasant breeze blowing from the south.  I think the humidity was down, too.

I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints, and paddled out onto the Mississippi to see what "play" workout opportunities were on offer.  There was a big barge rig coming downriver with its props churning, and the waves looked good.  When I paddled out into them I found that they were wandering all about, but I could sort of detect a pattern to their movement and I tried to position my boat accordingly.  The rides I got were all brief but it was fun trying to link from one wave to the next.

Saturday is the day I usually take all my recyclable trash to the dumpsters down on Mud Island, so I try to pick up whatever floating recyclables I see along the riverfront to add to my household collection.  Yesterday I grabbed eight or ten plastic bottles as I paddled up the harbor back to the dock.  But if my good deed is going to be rewarded, apparently that'll come later: while I was putting my boat away a hornet gave me a wicked sting on the inside of my right ankle.  I'm not terribly allergic to stings but I do get some localized swelling, and the area bloated right up and caused me much discomfort for the rest of the day.  As I write this now, some 30 hours later, the pain and itching have subsided but the area is still quite swollen.

When I got to the dock this morning I took a careful look around to see if I could find the hornets' nest, and finally figured out it was inside my little boat stand that I made from pieces of PVC pipe.  I flushed water through it and beat it against the dock until the nest finally fell out.  I managed to do all this without any further stings.

Adam Davis and I got together today for the first time in a few weeks.  We paddled from the mouth of the harbor across the Mississippi and up into the Loosahatchie Chute.  The river has dropped a lot in recent weeks--today's level was about 8.7 feet on the Memphis gauge--and the current in the Chute was gentle, with some shallow water here and there.  At one point we had to get out of our boats and hike them across a sandbar that was a couple of inches below the surface.  I think the river is generally cleaner at low levels because it's not flooding farmlands and garbage dumps and stuff, and it enticed us into doing some remount practice in deeper water.

The weather was even a bit nicer than it was yesterday.  I'd go so far as to say it was delightful, at least for July.  That lovely south breeze was blowing again, and there was a generous scattering of clouds in the sky to keep the sun from beating down relentlessly.  The Loosahatchie Chute has long been one of my favorite local outdoor spots, and it was beautiful today.

A week ago the oppressive heat was getting to me after paddling for just an hour, but today we paddled almost two hours and it wasn't until the last 20 minutes or so that I was starting to feel unpleasantly thirsty.  I had an insulated bottle of cold water waiting for me on the dock and it capped off a good morning of paddling very nicely.


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An unsettled but not unwelcome weather pattern

I've missed racing this year in that I've missed gathering with like-minded people and testing myself against athletes who take the sport seriously like I do.  On the other hand, I haven't particularly missed the five-, six-, and seven-hour drives and other ancillary chores and expenses in the service of attending races.

I've mentioned the frustrating feeling of being "stuck" here at home all summer.  But when I allow myself to settle in and embrace it, there's something peaceful about going down to my home river and just having fun out there.  With no competitions to be sharp for, I'm sticking to the "play" variety of workouts.

I'm also keeping the sessions short--no longer than 60 or 70 minutes.  That's primarily because of the heat.  Once you're overcome with the oppressive summer heat your form falls apart and your training is not really productive anymore.

Speaking of the heat, we've had plenty of it, but we've gotten breaks here and there, too.  For the last week or so there have been scattered thunderstorms in the region that have cooled things down in the afternoon.  One pandemic habit I've fallen into is sitting out on the back deck and drinking a beer around 5:00 or 5:30 PM, and on many days the weather has been more pleasant at that hour than in the late morning or at lunchtime.

On Tuesday Joe and I did our usual loop of the harbor.  The humid air was stifling and breathless as I readied my gear on the dock, but out on the water there was just enough of a breeze to make our session bearable.

This morning I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints, and then headed out onto the Mississippi to see what was going on.  There were three barge rigs moving upriver, the last of which was emerging from under the Harahan Bridge.  I headed for that one to see what kind of fun I could have on its wake.  The conditions were sort of tricky, and they didn't last long, but I managed to get a couple of really nice rides--probably the best since my "dream day" two months ago.  I even linked several runs--not easy to do in the unpredictable world of barge-wake surfing.

As I drove home the temperature display in my car said it was 89 degrees Fahrenheit outside.  As I approached my house I drove into a torrential downpour, and I watched as the reading dropped to 81 degrees.  When I got home the rain showed no signs of letting up, and I got pretty wet running up the back stairs to the door.  The deluge continued for the better part of the next hour, and I'm curious to know how much rain fell here; I'm thinking at least an inch.  Whatever the case, the storm kept the day from growing too hot.

Really, my only complaint about this current weather pattern is that the evenings have been cloudy, and I'd like to get a glimpse of the comet Neowise that's passing near the Earth right now.  I think there are only several more evenings when it will be visible.  Apparently this comet has a period of around 6800 years... I try my best to stay healthy and fit, but to be around the next time the comet shows up might be too much to hope for.


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Monday photo feature

I pay a hundred bucks per quarter to keep my boat down at Harbortown Marina, and it might be the best $400 I spend each year.  The hassle of getting my boat on and off the car every time I want to paddle is one of those subtle challenges to one's motivation that I'm happy not to have to deal with.  I can even ride my bike down there if I feel like it or if I want some extra cardio training.  And it's nice to have a place to spread out and ready my gear before paddling and put it away after.

That's my boat on the top rack in the photo above.  And in the foreground we see a piece of equipment that is, in the summertime, nearly as important.  Taking a bath in cool water from the hose is something I look forward to as I paddle the last 2000 meters up the harbor back to the dock on a steaming hot day.  I keep a bottle of castile soap on the dock, and I come away fresh as a daisy (at least until I've made the hike up the ramp to the parking lot and worked up a sweat again).

I'll just add that there are people who pay a lot more than $400 a year to belong to some spa where they can sit in a sauna and then douse themselves with cold water.  I get essentially the same thing at no addition to the cost of storing my boat at the marina.  And yes, I feel very smart because of that.


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More summertime fun on the big river

Yesterday morning I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints in the harbor, and then headed out onto the Mississippi hoping to find some barge wakes to surf.

There was a rig coming downstream that was generating some good-sized waves.  As I paddled out toward them some men on the deck started hooting and hollering at me.  I couldn't tell whether they were cheering me on or shouting at me to get lost.  Then the pilot cut the engines way back, and I began to sense that they did indeed have a problem with me riding their wake.  Then again, it's been my experience that when a pilot is truly annoyed with a paddler's behavior, he'll give an angry blast of his horn or deliver a stern rebuke over his P.A. system, and I heard nothing of the sort this time.  Eventually the engines powered back up, but the waves were wandering back and forth so much that I couldn't get a good ride.  I gave up around the time that I was passing beneath the old bridges below downtown.

Looking downriver I saw another rig making its way upstream.  It was at least twenty minutes away, so I took out below the Memphis-Arkansas Bridge and took a breather and did some stretching.  As the vessel neared the bridge I got back in the boat and paddled up the Arkansas bank a few hundred meters before ferrying out and seeing what I could do.  The waves had a slight confusion to them but after a few tries I managed to get several decent rides.

After some ten minutes of that I was gasping for breath and getting hot under the blazing sun.  I ferried over to the Tennessee bank and paddled up into the harbor, where I flipped my boat and cooled off for a few minutes.  I did remounts from both sides of the boat--I guess one good thing about the hot summers here is that I end up getting plenty of remount practice.

Another hot one was shaping up as I went back out in the boat this morning.  After a warmup and another three 8-strokers, I found a barge rig moving up the Mississippi just out of the mouth of the harbor.  I paddled a brisk pace up the big eddy near the southern tip of Mud Island, then ferried out to try my hand at surfing once more.  Once again I found waves that were not in an organized train, and the water was very confused from the churning of the towboat's props.  I threw in one hard sprint after another but couldn't quite manage a sweet ride, and I had to keep paddling hard to sustain the rides I did get.  But in the end I was satisfied.  One thing I work on every time I surf is reading the waves and trying to sprint at just the right moment: I remember in South Africa having Dawid Mocke behind me shouting "Okay... Go!  NOW!!" and I would try to snap a picture in my mind of where I was on a swell at that instant.  So that's one way I have fun even in less-than-ideal conditions.  And if nothing else, the frequent sprints are a good workout.

I paddled easy back into the harbor, and did some more remount practice there followed by a hose bath back at the dock.

In other news, John Wellens has completed his source-to-sea expedition on the Mississippi River.  It took him 41 days to make the journey from Lake Itasca in Minnesota to the Head of Passes in Louisiana.  That's a very quick trip.  I think several months is not unusual.


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All fun canceled until further notice

I've mentioned here a few times in the past how much I loved going to summer camp as a kid.  I was never particularly happy at the schools I attended, and camp was a chance for me to do some things I had some aptitude for and see people I felt like I could be myself around.  It was also where I became a paddler for a lifetime.

The camp I went to, located in the mountains of western North Carolina, is still in operation.  However, the COVID-19 pandemic has forced it to cancel all its sessions this summer.  I cannot imagine how distraught I would have been if such a thing had happened during the years when I was a camper.

I bring this up now because I'm currently having a somewhat similar experience with the cancelation of the Gorge Downwind Championships out on the Columbia River.  My trip out there has become a cherished ritual for me, and I was really looking forward to being there this week to continue my study of the art of downwind paddling and to reconnect with people I've met out there.  Alas, this event too has succumbed to the pandemic, and I am sitting at home.

I am more skilled at coping with such disappointment now than I was as a summer-camp-aged kid forty years ago.  Life has a way of kicking you in the gut and numbing you to the pain as you get older.  I've basically accepted it with a sigh and a hope that maybe a year from now we'll have contained the virus enough to have an event like that again.  But a touch of melancholy lingers.

It's good and hot here at home.  I expect no less from summer in the Mid South.  Fortunately my current home-improvement project takes place indoors where my air-conditioning system is in good working order.  I'm plugging away at the slow process of tuck-pointing the brickwork in a room of the house.  Recently my lower body has been stiff by the end of each day because I've been up on the ladder, sometimes moving up and down frequently between my mortar board and the part of the wall I'm working on, sometimes standing on the balls of my feet for balance as I reach high up into the rafters.

This week I paddled on Tuesday and yesterday, doing a loop of the harbor with Joe in the former session and pushing the pace out on the river in the latter.  The heat was getting to me a little toward the end of my hour in the boat yesterday.  By the time I was back in the harbor paddling toward the dock, I paused in the shade of each of the three bridges and splashed water all over myself.  Then I took a lovely hose bath on the dock.

I'm not sure of my weekend paddling plan yet, but I expect to be hot regardless of what I do.


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Monday photo feature

John Wellens shot this photo of Bruce Poacher and me as we paddled down the Mississippi River toward Memphis last Monday.  That's Bruce on the right and me on the left.  The conditions weren't really that hazy or misty; John's lens was fogged up with humidity.  I sort of like the effect, actually.

As of this morning John is close to completing the long wilderness section between Natchez, Mississippi, and Baton Rouge, Louisiana.  To avoid the worst of the withering heat, he's getting started before six o'clock each morning, finding a shady spot to rest for several hours in the middle of the day, and paddling quite late into the evening.


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Making the best of a summer at home

Right now I should be savoring the environs of the Columbia River Gorge.  Should be.

I decided about a month ago that a trip out there for the Gorge Downwind Championships wasn't in the cards for me.  The organizers continued to try everything they could to make the event happen for a much smaller, more local group of racers, but this latest surge of COVID-19 cases proved to be one obstacle too many, and they called it off entirely.

Here in the Mid South, summer is shaping up into its usual self: humid and hot.  This weekend has been pretty bad.  While the air temperature hasn't been as bad is it can be--low 90s Fahrenheit, as opposed to high 90s or 100s--the humidity has pushed the heat index into triple digits.

Such weather has exacerbated a rough patch I'm going through as an athlete.  I'm always tired after I paddle, of course, but whereas it's usually an endorphin-charged feeling of exhilaration, lately it's been an exhausted, beat-down sort of tired.  I noticed it last weekend and ended up taking a break last Sunday.  Then I took a couple of days off after paddling with John Wellens and Bruce Poacher last Monday.  I was hoping I might have some renewed energy by the time I went to the river Thursday, but I still ended up laboring through it.  It was more of the same yesterday.

I got a bit of a break this morning: there were some thunderstorms in the region, and though hardly a drop fell on me, I had some cloud cover and a nice breeze out on the river.  Not coincidentally, it was the best I'd felt in the boat in at least a week.

What exactly did I do these three times out paddling?  Well, I did sets of three 8-stroke sprints in the harbor all three days.  I was hoping to find some barge traffic on the river so I could do some surfing and have fun and get wet, but the river was deserted Thursday and yesterday, and today all I saw was one southbound rig whose wake was too small for doing anything.  What I ended up doing instead was playing around in the eddies below the Hernando DeSoto Bridge's pilings.  The eddies are quite boily with occasional exploding whirlpools, and I did a bunch of S-turn-like moves where I keep my boat moving across the eddies without having to stop and brace or anything like that.  It's an effort to build skill and confidence in the boat.

It sounds like summer will be baring its teeth even more this coming week.  I've heard that we can expect high temperatures in the high 90s by Tuesday.


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Monday photo feature

Joe Royer shot this photo while he and I paddled last Tuesday.  Our hot summers here can wear on a person, but they do give us some lovely cloudscapes.


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Paddling annoyances and paddling epics

I believe pretty strongly that a bad day paddling is better than a good day sitting at a desk or something, but Saturday's session was rather unenjoyable nevertheless.  It's quite common for me to have some stinging in my eyes when I'm paddling with the wind at my back on a sweaty summer day, and usually all I have to do is wipe my eyes and forehead with my hat and the problem is solved.  But on Saturday my right eye was stinging unbearably, and every time I stopped to wipe it with my hat, it came right back within twenty seconds.  Splashing my face with water, turning around and paddling into the breeze... nothing I tried could make my eye stop stinging.

I'm not saying the morning was a complete loss; I paddled for 70 minutes, during which I did a set of three 8-stroke sprints and worked on balance and glide in the boily eddies below the Hernando DeSoto Bridge pilings.  But it was an ordeal of discomfort, and I was grateful to be back on the dock washing my face over and over under the hose and hoping the experience was a one-time aberration.

Throughout this pandemic paddling has been an effective antidote for whatever stress I've experienced in my non-athletic life.  But right now I'm engaged in a home-improvement project that I'm actually feeling good about and even enjoying to some extent.  After Saturday's frustrating exercise I decided to take a break from paddling yesterday and see how much work I could get done at home.  I'm repairing some interior brickwork and it's a long, slow process, and it was satisfying to knock out a good chunk of it yesterday.

For today, I had a plan: I wanted to meet up with John Wellens, a fellow racer from South Carolina who is paddling the Mississippi River from source to sea to benefit the National Alliance on Mental Illness.  I knew from looking at his G.P.S. track that he was starting this morning some 80 or 90 miles above Memphis near Blytheville, Arkansas, so he was likely to arrive at the Memphis riverfront in the mid to late afternoon.  He would have a companion with him: Bruce and Liz Poacher had driven over from Erwin, Tennessee, and Bruce would be paddling with John today while Liz served as their shuttle driver.

I spent this morning doing another round of masonry work, and then around 12:30 I drove to the mouth of the Wolf River.  From there I paddled upstream for four or five miles to the Hickman Bar.  At the current river level (19.9 feet on the Memphis gauge) there was a nice sandy beach along the bar, and I cooled off in the water and watched the river for a pair of kayakers coming down.  I knew I had to watch carefully because it's not hard for a tiny paddlecraft to slip by unnoticed out on the big river.

The better part of an hour went by and I didn't see any paddlers.  I finally got back in the boat and ferried over to the Arkansas side, thinking it might be easier to spot them from there.  I'd spent less than ten minutes hanging out near that bank when I saw them.  I paddled out and joined them, and they seemed surprised at how I'd apparently come out of nowhere but glad to have some more company.

By this time they'd been paddling for about 70 miles and were eager to get to Memphis.  We dealt with some headwinds from a nearby thunderstorm but the mighty river delivered us to our destination in the space of an hour or so.  Liz met us at River Garden Park and very kindly gave my boat and me a ride back up to the mouth of the Wolf where my car was parked.

The website for John's journey is here.  He also has a page on Face Book called "NAMIpaddle."  I encourage folks to check it out as he continues toward the Gulf of Mexico.  I consider it an honor to have joined him for a tiny snippet of the adventure.


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Sweating the days away

Summer is settling into the Mid South for real now.  While the air temperature hasn't risen much above 90 degrees Fahrenheit, the humidity has been oppressive all week.

Looking on the bright side as much as I can, I'll just repeat what I said in last weekend's post about the Mississippi River being as nice a place as you can be in this kind of weather.  This is also the time of year when taking a cool bath under the hose on the dock after paddling is something to savor.

I don't often get excited over products, but I have to say that the insulated stainless steel bottles sold by companies like Hydro Flask and Klean Canteen have been a godsend.  Twenty years ago, when my best water bottles were those plastic Nalgene models, I could bring a frozen-solid bottle of water down to the dock with me, and it still would be almost too warm to drink by the time I'd finished paddling on a hot day in July or August.  Nowadays I bring refrigerated water with me in an insulated steel bottle, and it's still nice and cold after an hour or two of paddling.  Here in Memphis we're lucky to have some of the world's best drinking water, and it never tastes better than in those minutes after paddling on a Mid South summer day.

On Tuesday I got together with Joe to paddle a loop of the harbor.  A south breeze kept us reasonably comfortable.

Yesterday was less breezy, and I went out in the boat looking for ways to get wet.  After warming up and doing three 8-stroke sprints in the harbor, I headed out onto the Mississippi where three barge rigs were moving upstream in close succession.  I paddled toward the last of them to see what surfing opportunities were on offer.  They weren't the easiest waves to catch but I ended up getting a couple of decent rides along with plenty of hard sprints.  The wave train didn't last long: the barges looked empty and I guess the pilot didn't have the pedal to the metal.

I returned to the harbor and did some re-mount practice--that's another very good use of these stifling hot days.  Then I went back to the dock and gulped water and hosed myself down.


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Monday photo feature

It's hard to believe this was four years ago.  I took a trip up the Eastern Seaboard in August of 2016, the ultimate destination being the USCA Nationals on the Connecticut River at Northfield, Massachusetts.  Along the way I visited my buddy Rob, who lives in Dutchess County north of New York City, and one day we went paddling on the Hudson River at Peekskill.


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It's water sports season

It's been a pretty hot, humid weekend, especially today.  On both days, the river was the nicest place to be.  Out there you get a breeze that doesn't really penetrate the middle of town where I live.

Yesterday I did a simple 60-minute paddle, doing three 8-stroke sprints in the harbor and then just paddling steady out on the Mississippi.

Adam Davis joined me this morning, and we spent about 100 minutes doing a bit of everything.  When we got to the Hernando DeSoto Bridge, we did a drill I've been doing for years that involves ferrying from one piling to another, following as straight a line as possible.  In addition to having to paddle pretty hard, you have to pay close attention to your ferry angle and boat control.

Then we paddled up to the outflow channel from Dacus Lake.  The river has been dropping the last couple of weeks and water from the lake has been draining back into the main channel, and right now there's a small waterfall at the mouth of the channel.  There also were some big fish hanging out there, enjoying the not-so-sediment-laden water coming from the lake.

We paddled a ways up into the Loosahatchie Chute.  At the current river level the dikes are just below the surface, and we had to do some little attainment moves to get up over them.

Finally, as we were coming back downriver, there was an upstream-moving barge rig creating some good waves, and I paddled out to do some surfing.  By this time I was pretty tired from all the paddling we'd done, but I got three or four decent rides before letting it go and returning to the harbor.

Like I said... a little of everything.  It was a satisfying way to spend a hot early-summer morning.


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An unremarkable week

The first week of summer has featured the usual as far as this blog goes.  On Tuesday I did a round of the strength routine and then paddled a loop of the harbor with Joe.  Yesterday I did a 60-minute paddle that included a set of three 8-stroke sprints and chasing some waves behind an upstream-moving barge rig out on the Mississippi.  The waves were small and I had to sprint hard to get anything, but I ended up getting several decent little rides.  If nothing else, it was another good "play" workout of the sort I mentioned in my post last weekend.

All told, the weather has been rather nice for the month of June.  We've had a few uncomfortably muggy days here and there, but for the most part the temperature has been below 90 degrees Fahrenheit and the humidity has been bearable.  There's still plenty of time for the dog days to settle in--I trust our Mid South climate to be our Mid South climate--but I'll take any nice bones that Mother Nature decides to throw my way.

This morning I did another round of the strength routine.  It's overcast with chances of rain, and today's high temperature might not exceed 85 degrees.


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Pandemic wanderlust

I mentioned in my post last weekend that the homebound life is getting to me.  This week I've been pondering my travel options here in Pandemic Times.  Below is a short list that's resulted from my brainstorming.  #1 is by far the most feasible.  #2 is sort of feasible.  #3 is barely feasible.


1.  The spring-fed rivers of southern Missouri.

In the Ozark foothills here are a few streams fed by springs that have been filtered by the karst geology.  They include the North Fork of the White River; the Jack's Fork; the Eleven Point River; and the Current River.  All are protected under the Ozark Scenic Waterways

This area is no more than three hours from where I live, so I could drive there easily with minimal reliance upon travel industry establishments and be self-contained for several days with food and camping gear.

For paddling, I'd have to dust off one of my old whitewater boats, as these streams are too small and shallow for a surfski with an understern rudder.  Since I'd be relying on my bike for running shuttles, I'd have to find sections of river with reasonable-length shuttles--not always easy in remote areas.

I guess the biggest cost of traveling someplace not far from home is the expectation that the place be different from home.  Certainly the weather won't be much different: if it's sweltering hot in Memphis, it'll probably be sweltering hot in southern Missouri.  On the other hand, these spring-fed rivers have lovely, cool, clear water that screams "SWIM!!"  Adam Davis and I were agreeing recently that even though we love our Mississippi River, once in a while you like to paddle on something different, and there's no better contrast to the Mississippi than a stream with clear water.

In any case, close means easy, and there's a good chance I'll be wandering up toward this area sometime this summer.


2.  Minnesota, the Dakotas, and Nebraska.

Why Minnesota, the Dakotas, and Nebraska?  Well, I have a goal of paddling in all 50 states, and these are four states that I haven't paddled in yet and are located where I'm not so likely to pass through them en route to some other destination.  So they'll just have to be my destination.

I've been curious about Lake Superior for the last few years, so I'd likely spend several days along that lake's Minnesota shore.  Meanwhile, the Missouri River crosses the North Dakota-South Dakota border south of Bismarck, so some kind of overnight trip on that section would be in order.  I could maybe hit a section of the Platte River in Nebraska while heading back south.

Really, the only obstacle to making this trip happen is my apprehension about being out on the road and exposing myself in places like motels and restaurants.  Sure, I could be super-disciplined and do all my own cooking and stuff like that, but in my long experience with road trips I've learned that that gets old fast.


3.  Juneau and Haines, Alaska.

Alaska is the one state I have never visited at all.  For my first time there I'm looking at the region that includes Juneau and Haines, towns separated by about 75 miles of water with several state marine parks along its length.  I'm thinking that would be a plausible and fascinating one- or two-night trip in a touring boat.

Sadly, this trip almost certainly cannot happen this year.  Driving out there is out of the question because I'd have to go through Canada and the Canadian border is closed these days.  Flying there would make me dependent on the equipment rental industry there for a boat and gear, and it appears that it's largely closed this season because of COVID-19 concerns.

Maybe next year, maybe the following year.  Maybe I could piggyback it onto my trip to the Columbia Gorge one summer, although my investigation of that option has revealed a sobering reality: when looking at the driving route from Hood River, Oregon, to Haines, Alaska, on the Google Map, I discovered that the distance is 1900 miles!  Memphis to Hood River is about 2200 miles, and as I learned two years ago, that's a longlonglonglonglonglonglong trip.  Continuing on to Haines practically doubles that!  And this is the close part of Alaska we're talking about.

Yeah, this trip will likely have to wait until the public health situation is truly back to normal.  But it's fun to think about.  Until now visiting Alaska has been nothing more than a very abstract idea and my head, and researching some specific locations like Juneau and Haines is helping bring it more into focus.



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Monday photo feature

This past Thursday local real estate broker Fancher Smith was closing the sale of the historic Shrine Building downtown when he spotted me paddling my boat up the harbor.  He pulled out his phone and snapped the photo above.  He calls the photo "Where's Elmore?"--you know, like "Where's Waldo," except my name is Elmore, not Waldo.


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Glum

Summer has begun, and I'm having a hard time not feeling completely bummed out.  All the things I look forward to in the summertime--my trip to the Pacific Northwest, travel to races in my region, baseball, concerts and social events--have vanished into the ether this year.

Make no mistake: I consider myself one of the more fortunate people here in Pandemic Times.  But the prospect of spending a sweltering Mid South summer stuck here at home with very little in the way of social and recreational options seems to sandbag my mood a bit more heavily each day.

I was feeling super-sluggish when I got up yesterday morning.  The act of going down to the river and getting my boat seemed like a bigger mountain than I could possibly climb.  But I went through the motions one task at a time: stretching, putting my gear in the car, driving downtown, getting my boat off the rack, getting in it and starting to paddle... and there I was.  Adam Davis met me down at the cobblestones, and we headed up the Mississippi, and soon I was feeling comfortable and fluid again.

We paddled maybe halfway up the Greenbelt Park.  A couple of barge rigs were coming downriver, the second of which was producing some good-looking waves, so we paddled out and followed it.  The waves were moving just a hair too fast: several times I rode the crest of a wave for a few seconds but was unable to get myself down into the trough.  After several minutes of throwing in short, hard sprints, I was gasping for breath, and I had no sweet rides to show for my trouble.  But hey... good practice, good training.  That stupid maxim we heard as kids is true: "It's better to try and fail than to fail to try."

The Fahrenheit temperature rose into the 90s yesterday, but it wasn't too unbearable.  The humidity was moderate and there was a light breeze blowing.  Late in the day some clouds moved in, and around two o'clock this morning I woke up and heard torrents of rain pouring down on my roof.

In the wake of that, today has been a pretty nice day: partly to mostly sunny, not too humid, and a few degrees cooler than yesterday with a pleasant breeze.

I felt somewhat lethargic again this morning, but not as bad as yesterday.  This time my enthusiasm was on the rise by the time I was headed out the door.  Down at the river I got in the boat and did 70 minutes of relaxed paddling.  I did several hard workouts in preparation for my "virtual" OICK race last weekend, but now, with no races on the horizon, I'm letting myself do whatever I feel like doing every time I paddle.  Until further notice, all workouts will be "play" workouts.


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