Monday photo feature

Here's a picture from last year of me paddling the channel from the main Mississippi River to Dacus Lake.  I was back paddling in this area yesterday with the river at 38.3 feet on the Memphis gauge.

Motivation is a challenge every athlete must deal with.  I think every canoe and kayak racer should look for the beauty wherever he or she trains, because it's a whole lot easier to get yourself out paddling when you love the place you paddle.  The current high flows on the Mississippi are making me eager to get out there and explore places that aren't always accessible to a paddler.


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High water (cont'd)

Soggy is the word for what most of this past week has been.  Back on Monday the TV weatherman said we'd be getting a month's worth of rain this week, and he wasn't kidding.  Paddlers I know in the more mountainous areas of the southeastern U.S. are enjoying some epic whitewater right now, and there's definitely a part of me that wants to go join them.  But I have yet to replace the boat that was stolen almost three years ago.  Until I find the will to do that, I guess my whitewater paddling career will remain on hiatus.

We got a dose of heavy rain from Friday night into Saturday morning.  There was a threat of severe storms Saturday, but when I got down to the river around 10 o'clock in the morning I found the conditions quite manageable: there was some intermittent light rain with a moderate east wind, and the temperature was a balmy 61 degrees Fahrenheit.

I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints in the harbor, and then paddled up the Mississippi River.  Several hundred meters above the Hernando DeSoto Bridge I reached the southern end of the Greenbelt Park.  This park is normally the domain of joggers, dog-walkers, picnickers, frisbee throwers, and the like; but with the Mississippi flowing at 37.4 feet on the Memphis gauge, today the park was best enjoyed in kayaks and canoes.  I paddled about halfway up the park, getting drenched in a brief downpour along the way, before turning around and heading back to the harbor and the dock.

A few more heavy showers moved through, but the severe weather never really materialized here in the Memphis area (at least one Mid South community was not so fortunate).  By early evening the rain was gone at last, and today we're drying out.  When I got to the river it was cooler--around 46 degrees--and breezy.  But the sun was out, and that always covers a multitude of Mother Nature's meteorological sins.

With the river up to 38.3 feet, I was keen to check out the flooded bottomland over on the Arkansas side.  I spent most of my 120 minutes in the boat paddling across the area between Interstates 40 and 55 and up north of I-40 as well.

Out of the boat I've been dealing with some discomfort in my right neck and upper back area, and I woke up this morning with some fairly intense aching in my lower right lat muscle.  It didn't really bother me in the boat once I'd gotten warmed up, but the rest of the day it's been unpleasant.  I've had this sort of thing several times before and it's always seemed to run its course over several days, and I hope that'll be the case once more.  The worst thing about it is it hurts to take deep breaths.


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Race schedule update

A few more event directors have announced their dates, so I figure it's a good time to refresh the working document that is my 2019 race schedule.  I certainly won't make it to every race on this list, seeing as how there are several dates with more than one going on.  But it's a good outline.  I hope to see some of this blog's readers along the way.



March
30  Battle On The Bayou.  Old Fort Bayou, Ocean Springs, Mississippi.  An 8.5-mile flatwater race.  Register


April
6  Oyster City Challenge.  Apalachicola River, Apalachicola, Florida.  8 miles down a coastal river.  Register

6  Top of the Teche.  Bayou Teche, Leonville to Arnaudville, Louisiana.  7.7 miles on a Class I river.  Register

13  Perche Creek Gutbuster.  Perche Creek, Columbia, Missouri.  10 miles on a Class I river.

27  Lake Cumberland Regatta.  Lake Cumberland near Columbia, Kentucky.  A 12- to 15-mile flatwater race.

27  Lower Atchafalaya Sprint Races.  Atchafalaya River, Patterson, Louisiana.  A series of 3-mile races up and down slowly-moving flatwater.  A racer may compete in both solo and team-boat classes.  Register


May
11  Bluz Cruz Canoe and Kayak Race.  Mississippi River, Vicksburg, Mississippi.  A 22-mile race down the largest river in North America.  Register

18  Almost Heaven Paddle Battle.  Summersville Reservoir near Summersville, West Virginia.  A 12-mile flatwater race.  Register


June
1  Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race.  Mississippi River, Memphis, Tennessee.  The 37th edition of this classic.  A 5000-meter dash down the largest river in North America.  Register

8  Taylorsville Lake Paddle Battle.  Taylorsville Reservoir, Taylorsville, Kentucky.  A 10-mile flatwater race.


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

18-20  Gorge Downwind Championships.  Columbia River, Hood River, Oregon.  A 14-mile race in the epic downwind conditions of the Columbia River Gorge.


August
3  Ohio River Paddlefest.  Ohio River, Cincinnati, Ohio.  A 9-mile race on this Midwest artery.


September
28  River Rat Paddle Challenge.  Ouachita River, West Monroe, Louisiana.  6.5 miles down a Class I river.


October
5  Big South Fork River Dash.  Big South Fork of the Cumberland River near Whitley City, Kentucky.  A 12-mile mostly-flatwater race.

For more information on what this blog is about, click here.

Water from the sky and all over the landscape

Some serious rain was supposed to move in here before lunchtime on Tuesday, so I tried to get down to the river as early as I could so I could get my paddling in ahead of it.  With the temperature at 37 degrees Fahrenheit, getting soaking wet was not an appealing idea.

Even without the rain, it was the sort of day where I wanted to get my session in the books and get back to the land of central heat as quickly as possible.  A bone-chilling north wind was blowing under overcast skies.  I stayed mostly in the northern half of the harbor, where protection from the wind is greatest.  I did several 8-stroke sprints, threw in a few surges, and basically just went through my paces.  By the time I was back in the car heading home it had warmed up all the way to 38 degrees.

The rest of Tuesday was indeed very rainy.  The rain had just about moved out when I woke up Wednesday morning, and yesterday began with sunny skies.  But the clouds were taking over by the time I got down to the river, and more rain was in the forecast.

The Mississippi River's big rise continues.  The crest, predicted for the middle of next week, has been revised upward to 39.5 feet on the Memphis gauge.  Clearly rain is falling higher up in the watershed as well as here.

I started yesterday's 60-minute paddle by warming up and doing three 8-stroke sprints.  Then I ferried across the Mississippi to check the flooding in the area between the Hernando DeSoto and Harahan Bridges.  It was mostly underwater with the river up to 35.9 feet, but I paddled carefully over just a small part of it, not wanting to break my boat or knock off my rudder on some object just below the surface.  I paddled by the tall mound of earth that's pictured in last week's photo feature, and it appeared that the picnic table is no longer there.

The rain was back by yesterday afternoon and is expected to continue through tomorrow.  Today my schedule consists of predominately indoor activities, including strength work.  I did the strength routine Monday, Wednesday, and today.


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Monday photo feature

I offer up this week's photo feature just in case anybody's curious to know more about where I paddled yesterday.  The ribbon of water in the right portion of this image is the harbor.  The marina where I keep my boat looks like a little equal sign just north of the A.W. Willis Avenue bridge.  Yesterday's destination was a body of water known locally as Dacus Lake, although here it's labeled as the Hopefield Chute.  There it is in the left half of the photo.

I paddled south to the mouth of the harbor, then paddled up the main Mississippi almost to the Hernando DeSoto (Interstate 40) Bridge, then ferried across the river, then paddled up to the little channel through the woods connecting Dacus Lake (Hopefield Chute) to the main river.  I paddled up this channel until--voila!--I was on Dacus Lake (Hopefield Chute).

It's only possible to paddle from the main Mississippi onto Dacus Lake at high river levels.  That's because there's a private road crossing the connector channel, with only a small culvert for the water to flow through beneath it.  The river needs to rise to around 30 feet on the Memphis gauge before this road is deep enough underwater for a paddler to get over it.  Yesterday's level was about 33.0 feet, and I was able to paddle through with no trouble at all.

There's one other detail on this map that strikes me as interesting: although I always think of myself as being in Arkansas whenever I paddle over to the far side of the river, Dacus Lake (Hopefield Chute) is actually in the state of Tennessee.  While the Mississippi River is the official boundary between Tennessee and Arkansas, the state line was demarcated at a time when the river's main channel was to the west of where it is now.  I guess that means that when I do a loop around the Loosahatchie Bar (the big island in the middle of the main river), I never actually leave Tennessee.  So very peculiar...


For more information on what this blog is about, click here.

Cold but beautiful

The motivation to get myself down to the river was hard to find yesterday morning.  The skies were overcast, a frigid north wind was blowing, and the air temperature was 34 degrees Fahrenheit.  It took some searching--under sofa cushions, behind kitchen appliances, in the back corners of closets--but I did finally find it.

Lots of heavy rain higher up in the watershed is causing a big rise on the Mississippi River right now.  The forecast calls for a crest of 36 feet on the Memphis gauge about a week from now.  It was at 32.2 feet as I paddled away from the dock yesterday.  After warming up and doing three 8-stroke sprints in the harbor, I ferried across the river to the Arkansas side to inspect the flooding of the bottomland there.  The lowest-lying expanses south of Interstate 40 were underwater but it didn't appear deep enough to paddle yet.

This morning was gloomy and grey once again, but it was a touch warmer--43 degrees when I arrived at the river.  In the wake of some rainfall there was a mist shrouding the riverfront in ethereal beauty.  I had a workout in mind for today, and with the river lapping at the 33-foot mark, I was keen to check out the expanded paddleable real estate over on the Arkansas side.  Just north of I-40 there's an oxbow known as Dacus Lake that one can paddle onto from the main Mississippi during high-water periods.

I paddled out of the harbor, ferried across the river, and worked my way upstream to the channel that connects the present-day river to the oxbow lake that carried the flows of centuries past.  When I emerged on Dacus Lake I found myself paddling against some current--an oxbow lake is a river channel at high water, after all--but the water was smooth and a good place for my workout.  I did ten 30-second sprints at 3-minute intervals.  I consider this an aerobic workout, as the long recoveries prevent my body from going lactic.  But it also gives me the chance to paddle hard and fast, something I believe is a skill that must be practiced.  If you only train slow, you're going to race slow.

The last several sprints were starting to hurt a little, but overall I felt much better than I did during the workout last Sunday.  Once I'd finished I headed back to where the lake flows out into the main river.  Backwater areas like Dacus Lake are really quite lovely and I always savor the chance to paddle there.

I paddled a good solid pace back to the harbor and back to the dock to complete 100 minutes in the boat.  I could spend the rest of the day feeling good about my morning's work and sightseeing.


For more information on what this blog is about, click here.

The Wicked Winds of the West and South

When Joe and I met Tuesday morning for a lap of the harbor, the conditions were classically blustery.  The Fahrenheit temperature was in the high 40s and falling, and the northwest wind was howling more from the west than from the north.  Most of the time the wind here blows from the north or the south, and since the harbor runs north-south, you've got the wind at your back at least half the time.  But an east or west wind is harder to get a break from.  Joe and I stuck close to the harbor's west bank, hoping to get whatever protection we could there.

It was about ten degrees warmer when I went down to paddle yesterday, and it was windy again--more of a traditional south wind this time.  But what a wind!  I mentioned that last Thursday was an extremely windy day down on the riverfront, but I'm pretty sure it was even more fierce yesterday.  This time I was better dressed for getting wet, and I paddled to the mouth of the harbor hoping to avail myself of some downwind action out on the Mississippi.

But once I was out there I had the bravery drained right out of me.  I didn't have a shuttle car waiting for me upriver, and I realized that returning to the harbor, paddling into the teeth of that wind, was not a simple matter.  Also, just like last Thursday, I lacked a "buddy," and I didn't have a leash connecting myself to my ski, either.  Since downwind conditions are not so common here, I'm just not in the habit of going to the river with things like that.

So, I retraced the hundred meters or so back to the harbor (even that was surprisingly tricky).  Whether I was being smart, or just a wuss, I'll let the reader decide.  But back in the harbor the consolation prize wasn't bad, at least.  As I paddled into the constricted area between the monorail bridge and the Hernando DeSoto Bridge, I found some surfable waves.  This confirmed my suspicion that the wind speed was toward the high end of what I've ever experienced on the Memphis riverfront: waves you can surf in the harbor are rare indeed.  I spent a half-hour or so working on some of the downwind fundamentals I learned out on the Columbia River last summer, and then returned to the dock soaking wet and mildly satisfied with how my session had gone.

In other news, I started up a new strength routine this week.  I did a cursory round on Monday, just to give my muscles a heads-up that their job description had changed.  I did full rounds (i.e., two trips through the circuit) on Wednesday and today.


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A new strength routine

Here are the strength exercises I plan to do for the next several weeks:

1.  Front and lat raises

2.  Torso twists with medicine ball (demonstrated by yours truly in this video)

3.  Cleans

4.  Stability ball exercise (demonstrated by Jing Jing Li at 2:55 of her video on this page)

5.  Bent-over rows





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Monday photo feature

It's hard to beat a good picnic on a sunny spring day.  The Mississippi River was up in April of 2008, and on a patch of high ground surrounded by the floodwaters, darn if there wasn't a picnic table!  Meghan Carr and I paddled over there to spend our lunch hour.


For more information on what this blog is about, click here.

Winter slogs

Around here we've yo-yoed back into cold weather.  Lately I've been maintaining two piles of paddling clothes at home--one for milder weather and one for colder.  This weekend it's the "colder" pile, the one with pogies and a ski cap and heavy neoprene pants and all that, that has gone down to the river with me.

Yesterday morning was sort of sunny, but not really.  There were patches of blue sky here and there but mostly there was a thin cloud cover that let through that pale sunlight that I've come to associate with the dead of winter.  The temperature was 30 degrees Fahrenheit when I arrived at the riverfront.  The north wind was blowing just hard enough to make my 60-minute paddle seem like an ordeal.

I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints in the harbor.  Then I paddled onto the Mississippi and found some waves created by a barge rig that was working its way upriver.  Normally I don't pursue surfing opportunities on such a cold day, but these waves were so smooth and benign-looking that I couldn't resist.  As it turned out, the waves weren't quite surfable, at least not by me.  I threw down several spirited sprints but each time was holding something back: it was not a good day to go swimming and I was up against the ceiling of my confidence.

After that little diversion I returned to the harbor and was happy to get my hour in the books and go back to someplace warm.

This morning was grey and cheerless, but warmer--a little over 40 degrees when I got downtown.  Once I was in the boat paddling I felt quite a bit more comfortable than I had yesterday.  Once again it was time to go a bit longer, but today it would be just 100 minutes as opposed to the two-hour paddles I'd done the last couple of Sundays.  I planned to paddle up to the mouth of the Wolf River and do a little workout on the bottom mile of that tributary stream.

A funny thing happened on my way to the Wolf: I broke 45 minutes getting up there.  I mostly just paddled a normal cruising pace, but when I hit the 42-minute mark I saw how close I was, and only then did I start paddling harder.  I made it up to the point where I consider myself "into" the mouth of the Wolf with just seconds to spare--about 44:55 or so.  How's about that.

After a couple of minutes to catch my breath, I started my workout on the flat, almost currentless water of the Wolf.  I did three 5-minute pieces with three minutes recovery in between.  I had my G.P.S. device on board, and my target pace for each piece was 7.3 miles per hour.  During many of my workouts I feel confident and strong, but that was not the case today.  Today I felt awful.  Every stroke felt like a struggle, and I fought off an occasional wave of nausea.  I was able to maintain 7.3 mph for stretches, but there were times when I slipped below 7.0.

I finished the last piece right as I was coming out of the Wolf back onto the Mississippi.  I ramped the intensity way down and just tried to take good precise strokes all the way down the river, back into the harbor, and back up to the dock.  Hopefully today's agony isn't how most of my workouts will go this season.


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First week of February

The last couple of weekends here in the Mid South have been sunny and warm, while the business weeks have been cold and mostly overcast.  But now that pattern has been turned on its ear.  Much of this week has been very warm (topping 70 degrees Fahrenheit at times), albeit mostly cloudy with a fair amount of rain.  Then, yesterday, after peaking around 70 degrees in the morning, the temperature plummeted into the 40s by early evening.

Joe and I did an easy lap of the harbor on a foggy Tuesday morning.  It felt good to relax after paddling long and hard on Sunday.

Yesterday I tried to get up and moving early so I could paddle before the cold air started moving in.  It turned out that wasn't really necessary, as the temperature didn't start falling until after lunch.  But I reckon it's never too early to get your paddle in.

Windy is the word for the conditions I found down on the riverfront.  I labored against strong gusts from the south on my way from the dock to the mouth of the harbor.  I did my three 8-stroke sprints in the sheltered area between the Mud Island Marina and Mud Island Park.  When I reached the harbor's mouth and looked out over the Mississippi, I saw some pretty epic downwind conditions there; but I was dressed more for the air temperature than the wintertime water temperature, and I lacked the "buddy" that entrants in the Gorge Downwind Championships are required to have during the practice days out there.  So I let discretion be the better part of valor and stayed in the harbor.  I consoled myself with the fact that there were some almost surfable waves there, particularly in the constricted part of the harbor next to the Mud Island Marina.

Some heavy rain fell yesterday afternoon ahead of the cold air.  Last night the low was in the mid 20s.  This coming weekend will feel much more like February.

I did the strength routine on Wednesday and today this week.  I gave myself a break on Monday, when I was still feeling some exhaustion from Sunday's paddle.


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Monday photo feature

I took this photo yesterday while paddling around the Loosahatchie Bar.

A couple of summers ago I posted this photo of the same house.  At that time its front yard had been eroded to a most uncomfortable degree.  I noted that some significant bank stabilization was necessary to save the house.

That work finally got done just a few weeks ago, and now the bank is lined with tons of rock.  While I'm happy to see the house's life extended by at least a decade or two, I sincerely hope the expense was borne by the homeowner and not Mr. and Mrs. Taxpayer.


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Yet another balmy break

When I got down to the river around ten o'clock yesterday morning it was sunny and 58 degrees Fahrenheit.  I'd be wearing significantly lighter clothing in the boat than I'd worn earlier in the week.  With the temperature quickly rising into the 60s I arguably could have worn shorts and short sleeves, but at this time of year that just feels wrong, sort of like wearing white slacks before Memorial Day.  I went with lightweight tights under a pair of neoprene shorts and a lightweight long-sleeve shirt under a disintegrating short-sleeve paddling shell that I bought some 25 years ago.

I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints in the harbor, then paddled up the Mississippi for a mile and a half or so.  There was some barge traffic creating turbulence and I tried to stay relaxed and keep my boat gliding over that stuff.

This morning it was time for another longer paddle, and with sunny, warm, and calm conditions it was hard to argue against another trip around the Loosahatchie Bar.  (When conditions are not so ideal, I'll choose to stay on the Tennessee side, maybe paddling several miles up the better-protected waters of the Wolf River.)  I left the dock and paddled to the mouth of the harbor, and on up the Mississippi.

Once I was above the Hernando DeSoto Bridge I realized I was making good time.  It's usually not hard for me to paddle from the dock to the mouth of the Wolf in less than 50 minutes, but I rarely if ever get up there in under 45 minutes.  I decided to push the pace and see if I could do it.  I came close but couldn't quite pull it off: I entered the Wolf at about the 45:40 mark.  I could practically hear the trombone playing that "womp womp womp" sound.

Oh well.  The other thing I always try to do when I paddle around the Bar is break two hours, and at least I was now well positioned to do that.  I backed off the pace a bit until I reached the big eddy just above the Maynard C. Stiles sewage treatment plant.  Then I paddled hard again while ferrying across the main river channel and climbing up and around the north end of the Bar.  With the river flowing at 27.7 feet on the Memphis gauge, the water was plenty deep up there.  Coming down the Loosahatchie Chute I tried to paddle as efficiently as possible, hoping to get some recovery from all the hard upstream paddling while still moving the boat well.

I set myself back several minutes when I stopped to take a picture (which you'll see in tomorrow's "photo feature").  On my tippy surf ski I had to move slowly and carefully, lest my shiny new iPhone go to sleeping with the fishes.

Now I would be cutting it close in terms of breaking two hours, so I pushed the pace back across the river to the mouth of the harbor, and up the harbor to the dock.  I clocked in at just under one hour 58 minutes.

I've spent the remainder of today dead tired.  I'm hoping for some good sleeping tonight.


(For more information on what this blog is about, click here.)

Cold, but could be colder

Right on schedule, the latest round of cold air moved into the Mid South Monday night.  When I got to the river Tuesday morning it was 29 degrees Fahrenheit, sunny, and windy.  I did all of my 60-minute paddle in the northern half of the harbor, where the protection from the wind is greatest.  I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints and then paddled steady with a few good surges.

This cold spell is part of the big "polar vortex" that has gripped most of the nation.  Here where I live we're getting off easy; I doubt I would be paddling this week if I lived in the upper Midwest, where double-digit subzero temperatures have prevailed.  I can't imagine there's much liquid water to paddle up there right now.

It was bitterly cold outside when I woke up yesterday morning, and by the time I got down to the river it was about 30 degrees.  But it was warming up fast: by the time I was in the car coming back home it was 43 degrees, on its way to a high of 51.  So it was well up in the 30s for most of my time in the boat.  With mostly-sunny skies and not much wind, I felt fine.  I warmed up and did another three 8-strokers in the harbor, then paddled up the Mississippi about a mile above the Hernando DeSoto Bridge before coming back downriver and back into the harbor.

The forecast calls for highs in the 60s this weekend.  And so this weird winter plods along.

I did rounds of the strength routine on Monday, Wednesday, and today.


(For more information on what this blog is about, click here.)

Monday photo feature

In March of 2010, I participated in the inaugural Battle On The Bayou canoe and kayak race on Old Fort Bayou at Ocean Springs, Mississippi.  In this photo I'm racing alongside Keith Benoist and Melissa Morrison of Natchez, Mississippi, just before passing under the Washington Avenue drawbridge.

This past Friday I got myself signed up for the tenth edition of this race.  And so on March 30, barring an injury or a family emergency, I'll be back down in Ocean Springs for more good times on the Bayou.


(For more information on what this blog is about, click here.)

A balmy break

We've enjoyed a nice weekend for this time of year--sunny skies with Fahrenheit temperatures in the 50s.  I've tried to savor it because colder weather is set to return in the next day or two.

It was already 40 degrees when I got down to the river to paddle yesterday morning.  I warmed up and did three 8-stroke sprints in the harbor, and then paddled up the Mississippi to the lower reaches of the Greenbelt Park before heading back downriver and back to the harbor.  In the harbor I did a few stroke drills on the way back to the dock.

It was well on its way to 50 degrees when I arrived at the river this morning.  The plan was to do a longer paddle, and with balmy temperatures, hardly any wind, and the Mississippi flowing at a robust 26.8 feet on the Memphis gauge, conditions were ideal for paddling around the Loosahatchie Bar.

I'm not a big believer in "overdistance" paddling as a regular training staple, but in the winter and spring I do like to get in a few long paddles to establish a good endurance base for the year.  "Long" for me means two to two and a half hours.  If I paddle much longer than that my stroke form starts to break down, and then I'm just practicing poor mechanics.  Meanwhile, I do have several two-hourish races on the schedule, and a few training paddles in that time frame benefits me mentally as much as anything, reassuring myself that I can push through that tough last half-hour or so.  I always try to focus hard on taking good strokes when I'm tired like that and it's easy to let them get sloppy.

When I reached the mouth of the harbor I found three barge rigs moving up the river.  The nearest one was just above the Harahan Bridge, and fortunately it wasn't running full-throttle.  I was able to widen my lead on it during the paddle upriver and have a comfortable amount of space for the ferry across.

The hardest part of going around the Bar is fighting the current while rounding the upper end.  I always think of this moment as the paddling equivalent of summiting a mountain.  Once I'm heading down the Loosahatchie Chute, I'm always getting tired but at least have the current working with me.

I always like to to this paddle in less than two hours if I can.  Today I hit the 90-minute mark as I approached the lower end of the Bar, and I knew I'd have to paddle strong the rest of the way to break two hours.  And that's what I did.  I was pleasantly surprised at how well my energy held up.  I arrived back at the dock about an hour and 56 minutes after I'd started.

I knew I'd be tired the rest of the day, but I consider this the good kind of tired.



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Another week of winter behind me

On Sunday afternoon I told one of my non-paddling friends that I'd paddled that morning, and he was awe-struck by the thought of somebody doing that on such a frigid day.  I explained that it really was not a bad day to paddle at all because the sun was out and the wind was light.  I went on to say that if it had been fifteen degrees warmer, but overcast and windy, it would have been miserable out there.

That's exactly the sort of day I had when I went down to paddle on Tuesday.  The temperature was around 44 degrees Fahrenheit, and it was as cloudy as could be, and the wind was screaming out of the southeast.

But in the end I wasn't really that miserable.  I tried to stay in the most protected areas of the harbor, and the hour in the boat went quickly enough.  I did my three 8-stroke sprints in a downwind direction and paddled a good solid tempo after that.  As usual, the worst part was the ten minutes I had to spend on the dock afterward, changing into dry clothes and putting my boat away before I could flee to the comfort of indoors.

For most of Wednesday the rain poured down, just like it did last Saturday.  And just like last Saturday, the system had a mass of cold air behind it.  Could this be a pattern for the next little while?

When I woke up yesterday morning the temperature was in the mid 20s under sunny skies.  I headed for the riverfront expecting a carbon-copy of Sunday's paddle, but when I got down there it was a few degrees warmer.  My rudder was frozen when I got in the boat but it didn't take even a minute for it to free itself from its icy bonds.

I warmed up and did another set of three 8-stroke sprints.  I ventured out onto the Mississippi, but returned to the harbor in short order because of approaching barge traffic.  I was not eager to take a bunch of frigid waves in my lap.

I spent the rest of the 60 minutes doing some minute-long surges, trying to get all the involved muscles firing in unison.

I did rounds of the strength routine Monday, Wednesday, and today.  By this time next week I'll have made it through another January.

7

On this day in 2012, My Training Blog by Elmore put up its very first post.  At the time I didn't have any particular goals for the blog's duration.  I'd have been perfectly happy to abandon it after a few months if it turned out to be more of a hassle than I cared for.

Yet here I am still doing it seven years later.  The main idea hasn't changed since that first day: I post the stuff I do, day by day and week by week, for people to read or not read as they are so moved.  But having put up one thousand three hundred twenty-nine posts over 2557 days, perhaps I'm ready to articulate some "greater purpose."


1.  First and foremost, the purpose of this blog is to share ideas.  Never would I suggest that readers abandon their own methods and adopt mine.  I mean... why would they?  It's not like I'm a world-class athlete or even one of the best in my own country.

Just like it says at the top of the page, this blog is simply an example of what one guy does.  And just about everything I do in this sport is something I learned from somebody else at some point.  Either it was shown to me by a coach or a fellow paddler, or I picked it up while watching other athletes.

So read this blog with a desire for self-examination.  If you see something you like here, go ahead and incorporate it into your own training.  And if you know a way to accomplish something that's better than what I'm doing, by all means, tell me.  Let's all grow, and maybe even advance the sport, together.


2.  This blog is written by an athlete, for athletes, about being an athlete.  There's something about the word "athlete" that unnerves some people.  And there's kind of a mostly-implicit debate about who is an athlete and who is not.

In the way sports are covered in our society, I detect a prevailing attitude that the word athlete  cannot apply to the average person.  I feel fairly certain that the typical Memphian does not consider somebody like me an athlete.  I've even been told, once or twice, some variation of "You're not an athlete.  The guys on the Memphis Grizzlies are athletes.  You're just some schmo who likes to play around in a silly boat."

Frankly, I pity such people who have to put somebody down like that to feel validated.  But that's a topic for another time.  For now I'll just say that speakers of such sentiments are wrong.  They don't get it.

Whether you're an athlete isn't something that can be measured by how much you get paid, or how many products you endorse, or how many fans you have.  Being an athlete is a state of mind.  It starts with a simple curiosity about what you can do with your body, what the limits are, how good you can be.  You then organize your daily life in such a way as to satisfy that curiosity.  You make time to get your workouts in.  You pay attention to your general health--a good diet and adequate sleep, stuff like that.  You take your sport seriously and try to do it a little better each day than you did the day before.

If you become the kind of athlete who has lots of fans and even people willing to pay you... hey, that's great.  But the only person who has to care about what you're doing is you.  And I hope you'll find something in this blog that gives you a boost.


3.  This blog is about Memphis.  My hometown.  Where more than 90 percent of my paddling takes place.

A sizable portion of our citizenry believes that anybody who would get in a kayak or canoe and paddle it should be locked up in a padded cell.  Perhaps even more frustrating, however, are the people who think paddling is in fact a neat idea, but are infected with this bizarre belief that it's something you have to go someplace else to do--namely some chic resort in the mountains or on the seashore.

I happen to believe that you can and should paddle regularly no matter where you are.  You'll gain a unique familiarity with the natural world where you live, and you'll develop solid skills that will be there for you anyplace in the world you choose to visit.

And I think my hometown is ideal for paddling.  Do I suggest that my home water is one of the best places to paddle in the world?  Well, no... but then again, maybe I should.  Our local river is the biggest in North America, after all.

When I look out over the Memphis riverfront, I see a paddling mecca that could be.  Every time I put my boat in the water at Harbortown Marina, I embark on a session that might include everything from the flatwater in the harbor to occasional offshore-like conditions out on the Mississippi River.  In the same day I might find myself paddling in an urban setting (downtown Memphis) and semi-remote wilderness (the Loosahatchie Chute, the bottom miles of the Wolf River, the more distant reaches of the Mississippi beyond the city).

And of course, we have a second-to-none race event, the annual Outdoors, Inc., Canoe and Kayak Race.

Sometimes I wish open-water paddlers would flock to my city like they do to Hawaii, or Florida, or the Columbia River Gorge.  Sometimes I wish the city itself would embrace the incredible recreational opportunities that our riverfront offers.  And then other times I'm happy to have the place mostly to myself.  Whatever the case, I'm going to keep paddling my boat here--leading by example, as it were--and representing my town the best I can whenever I race.


4.  This blog is about the world.  While I loyally paddle my home water, I'm also fascinated with everyplace else.  That's one of the biggest reasons I like to race: it gets me out of town to visit other parts of the region and the country a few times a year.  The world is full of beautiful places, none more so than the places people paddle.

Every time I travel someplace, I imagine what it would be like if I lived there.  I imagine what my paddling routine would be and how I would have to organize my life to make it possible.  This mental exercise helps me notice a lot of the more innocuous qualities of a place.  It also almost always deepens my appreciation for what I have at home.

And, canoe and kayak racing takes me to some fascinating places I might not otherwise visit--places like the Missouri Ozarks, the Cumberland Plateau region of Kentucky, and the Louisiana Bayou.


5.  This blog is about the mundane.  At the top of the page it says I'm a canoe and kayak racer.  That means I go to races.  Each time I attend a race I try to post an entertaining summary here that captures all the moment-by-moment drama of the event.  But races aren't really the main point of this blog.  Sure, races are fun and exciting, but they comprise no more than eight or ten days out of an entire year.

The rest of the time, it's just me in my boat.  I paddle because I want to do well in the races, but that alone isn't enough to get me out there week in and week out, all year long.  Mostly I paddle because I love to paddle.  In this blog I try to celebrate our sport as something simply to devote ourselves to and enjoy, an everyday enhancement to the richness of our lives.

Jon Lugbill, an American whitewater slalom canoeist who won five world championships, once said: "It's not worth suffering to get to an end.  The means must be enjoyable."  I don't consider the training I do to be a great sacrifice or an ordeal that must be endured.  I like it.  It's a part of my life and a part of who I am.


So, there you go... the essence of this blog, at least as I interpret it.  I can't overstate my gratitude to every single soul who takes the time to read this thing.  Let's see if I can make it another seven years.

Monday photo feature

My friend Chris Hipgrave of Bryson City, North Carolina, has just returned from a sea kayaking expedition in Antarctica.  He's posted some pretty spectacular photos on his blog and his Face Book page and kindly given me permission to share one here.  With this blast of cold weather we've just had here in much of the U.S., I figure we could all use a reminder that there's always someplace colder and icier than where we are.  And it's summer down there in Antarctica.

Which of Chris's photos to share here was a tough decision.  I encourage everybody to go here and have a look at his entire album.

I will sneak in one more, however.  I've written many times about how much I love our critters on the Memphis riverfront--the birds, the turtles, the fish, the beavers, even the snakes.  But I have yet to see any penguins around here.  Says Chris, "Although technically not an albino, this Gentoo penguin has a genetic mutation that makes him stand out from the crowd."

A tale of two January days

A system of rain and thunderstorms moved in Friday night, and the temperature rose above 60 degrees Fahrenheit in the early hours of yesterday morning.  It was still raining pretty hard when I got out of bed, but by the time I got down to the river it seemed to have moved out.  The temperature had dropped into the mid 50s, but it was still warm enough to paddle without pogies.

The wind was blowing from the south, hard enough to make paddling toward the mouth of the harbor feel like a chore.  When it was time to do my 8-stroke sprints I turned around and did them with the wind at my back.  Then I turned back around and paddled out onto the Mississippi.

The river was quite calm in spite of the south wind.  It helped that there was no barge traffic in the area.  I was feeling a bit tired in the boat, maybe from the fast surges I'd done on Thursday or the strength work I'd done on Friday.  I had to make myself paddle with the best form I could.  This got easier once I was back in the harbor with the wind at my back.

I cruised on back to the dock to complete a 60-minute session, and right as I was getting out of the boat I realized I'd been wrong about the rain being over.  A thick drizzle quickly moved in, and a short time later the wind abruptly shifted to the north, and I could feel the temperature dropping fast.  By the time I was back in the car heading home, the in-dash temperature display said it was 46 degrees.  It would keep on dropping the rest of the day toward an overnight low in the 20s.  So it turns out I got my paddle in just minutes ahead of the nastier weather, and that was kind of a nice feeling.

Of course, then there was the matter of paddling today, and there was no avoiding the cold.  The conditions I might face were uncertain: the cold front brought some pretty strong winds with it that raged overnight.  This morning I layered up good, broke out the fleece-lined pogies for the first time this winter, and headed downtown.  When I got there I found that the wind had abated and the sun was fighting a winning battle with the cloud cover.  My car told me it was 28 degrees.

My rudder was frozen.  That was no surprise, considering my boat had been soaking wet from the rain when the colder air moved in yesterday.  When my rudder freezes I have to be patient so as not to break something.  Today I put my boat in the water and started paddling large clockwise circles, because that's the position the rudder was stuck in.  It finally came free after about eight minutes.

I spent the rest of the 80-minute session paddling a steady relaxed pace.  With the sun shining I was pretty comfortable in the boat.  I stayed in the harbor to be on the safe side.  There was some barge traffic out on the river, and having waves splash into my seat bucket and footwell in sub-freezing weather is not a sensation I cherish.

It was still below freezing when I got back to the dock.  The water droplets on my boat quickly froze while I changed into dry clothes.  I toweled the boat off as best I could, put it away, and headed home, proud of myself for not having let some Arctic air stop me.