I’ve always known that I am weird. I have a bucketful of quirks, idiosyncrasies and compulsions. They range from the way others use our language, to the proper way to eject toothpaste from a toothpaste tube, to the proper spin orientation of toilet paper from the roll, to how I handle a simple itch on my back. [Read more…]
Swing Weight
October 23 is an important day for me. Firstly, it is my fantastic father’s birthday, and it is a big one. Although I’ve said it before — he’s still a 35-year-old in my mind’s eye. But I told my mom that if she’s planning a birthday party for dad, she better plan to have it before his birthday, because on that day, I’ll be embarking on the most physical challenge of my life. A big bunch of us will be shoving off from Rotary Park on the morning of the 23rd of October in kayaks on a mission to paddle our way to the Gulf of Mexico. More about that later…
I got into a kayak for the first time on the evening of April 28th, 2010. Keep in mind, this is after I had committed to do this two-week kayak expedition in October. I am not a great swimmer (I could save myself in a pinch), I’m epically claustrophobic and I don’t have great balance (probably because I’m a little top-heavy). These three liabilities would seem to fly in the face of reason for choosing kayaking as an activity. I’ve chosen to do this as an visible, physical symbol of my intentions of beating cancer. I’m paddling, Jill and I are regulars at the new John Thayer YMCA, I’m eating right and I’ve learned how to safely execute a wet exit from a overturned kayak.
Let me tell what I have learned about kayaking. First of all, it is a blast! Imagine floating along under the light of a full moon with a group of friends. It is quiet, except for the sounds of wildlife and the sultry slurp of paddle strokes. The best way to see nature is in a kayak. The other thing you need to know is that there are many, many decisions to make if you want to take up the hobby. Here are a few: sit-on-top or sit-in kayak, length of the kayak, type of personal flotation device, what kind of paddling you’ll be doing, types of paddling clothing to consider and ways to transport your boat to the ramp — just to name a few. The one big decision I didn’t mention here is your choice of paddle. On a trip like the one I’ll be going on this fall, the choice of a paddle will likely be my most critical decision. Here’s why: An active sea kayaker will execute between 2,000 and 4,000 strokes per hour. If a paddler puts in an 8-hour paddling day, those numbers will yield a total of 16,000 – 32,000 strokes.
There are paddles make with wood, aluminum or fiberglass that can weigh up to 40 ounces. Then, there are those gorgeous, sleek, perfectly weighted paddles made out of carbon fiber. The Epic Relaxed Touring paddle weighs in at an incredible 22 ounces. Imagine the difference between swinging 22 ounces and hefting 40 ounces over the course of an 8-hour paddling day in the midst of a two-week, 265-mile river adventure! The paddle, which I don’t yet own, will be the subject of future posts to this blog. By the way, there are even more decisions to be made just concerning the paddle. Straight shaft or bent, what weight, what material and what length?
My point here is to do your research. Access the Chattahoochee Paddling Club’s Yahoo Group page: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ChattahoocheePaddlingClub/ and request to join so you can see the high level at which local paddlers communicate and recreate with each other. There is a lot more coming on this blog at we approach our departure date in October. Come back often!
Fear Conquered
If you’re a regular reader of this blog, you know that I’ve passed up on a couple of great life experiences because I’m extremely claustrophobic. You also know that I’ve used an occasional dose of one of the “‘zepam” type drugs to chemically thwart a panic attack when I’ve had to submit to an MRI tube to help keep my cancer from sneaking back up on me. Nevertheless, I live each day with a lurking sense of dread about any situation I get in that might constrict, hem up or crowd me in any way.
As I’ve posted recently, I’ve been looking for some kind of post-cancer challenge that would require me to get physically fit through a several-months-long training regimen. I’ve already dramatically altered my diet and after 4 months as a full-blown vegan, I’ve settled into a 90% vegetarian and 10% flexatarian diet that has helped me drop 25 pounds. Jill and I joined the YMCA and we’ve been taking full advantage of the new John P. Thayer YMCA downtown facility by attending every exercise class they have to offer. We’re sore much of the time, but we’re both seeing positive changes in our middle-aged bodies.
The challenge that I’ve taken up is a 265-mile kayak paddling trip from Columbus to Apalachicola down the Chattahoochee and Apalachicola rivers to the Gulf of Mexico. I’ve got until late October to be physically ready and mentally prepared to tent camp for 14 nights. One of my biggest fears about kayaking was conquered yesterday on the river at Blanton Creek Landing in Harris County. Since I don’t own my own kayak yet, I have been borrowing one from my new kayaking friend Shane Jones. It is a Necky Manitou 14, a blue 14-foot plastic boat of the sit-in variety.
Several weeks ago, when I began this adventure, I started with a sit-on boat thinking that my claustrophobia would stop me from getting down inside of one of the sit-in boats. I learned after only one short 5-mile paddle that a sit-on boat is not acceptable for a touring situation. They are not efficient to paddle because they’re too beamy and wide. They are quite stable, but ponderous. My friend Gary Bayer, who is planning to conquer the Columbus to Apalachicola adventure and who is also just getting into kayaking, says that paddling the sit-on-top boat is like paddling a large log. He’s right.
So, my second time out I borrowed Shane’s Manitou and have been doing well on the several outings I’ve had over the past several weeks. Yesterday was one of the most nerve-wracking days I’ve had on the river. I attended, along with eleven other fellow paddlers, a Safety/Rescue Class. We are so fortunate to have Atlantan, John Traendly, involved with our Chattahoochee Paddling Club. John T’s credentials as a paddling teacher are too numerous to mention here. He is an accomplished paddler, but he’s an even better teacher. Yesterday, he submitted himself to all sorts of situations to simulate a paddler in trouble. He was “rescued” by at least 7 different styles of rescue and required those of us in the class to be flipped upside down in our boats multiple times to experience the terror and ultimate satisfaction of knowing we can not only survive capsizing but also get ourselves back into our boats.
The first hour of our training happened on dry land at the landing. Just before the class started, Shane walked up to me and said, “I have a spray skirt that fits that Manitou if you want it.” I thought, “Oh God, please tell me he didn’t just say that.” This was a safety class, the one class where I should take chances. The one place where I should challenge my fear because I would be in the presence of numerous people who could pull me out of danger. I declined the use of the skirt. Rethought it. And, then asked Shane for the keys to his truck so I could get it, put it on and really ramp up my anxiety level.
So I got the spray skirt, slid into it, put on my pfd (personal flotation device) and stood there in the grass watching John T. give us the lowdown on gear and techniques for rescuing and being rescued in a kayak. Once the dry part of the class was over, I decided to get into the kayak and engaged the spray skirt to see how I would feel. I slid in, placed the elastic edge of the skirt over the cockpit coaming and wiggled until I got comfortable. Not bad, so far.
John T. paired us up for the wet part of the day’s training. I was paired, thankfully, with Todd Hyatt. I will never forget this guy. First of all, he’s a ruggedly handsome fellow. A muscular body and a chiseled face that sported a couple of days worth of facial hair. He was wearing paddling shoes and his sleek, long Kevlar kayak let me know that he probably knew what he was doing out there. I had to show that I could master a “wet exit” before I could continue in class. Everyone who was wearing a spray skirt had to prove that they could extract themselves from the boat after going upside-down.
It was time. I practiced popping my spray skirt a few times on land and it was time to get wet. Just before we picked up the boat to put it in the water. Todd said to me, “Just wanted you to know that I can’t bend my left leg.” “That’s cool,” I said, “I can’t lift my left arm above my head from a skiing accident. Between us, we’ve got one whole person.”
We placed the Manitou 14 into the water and after more time than, I’m sure, Todd thought was worth spending, I flipped myself over and after about three seconds that seemed like 3 hours, I popped up to the surface and proved that I could get myself out. I got back into the boat, hooked up the spray skirt and paddled around the corner out of the wind where we would be training for the next three hours.
Here’s my favorite part of the day. I asked Todd to tell me about his leg. He told an incredible story about the life-threatening injuries he received in a South American bus crash. He was sitting in the seat behind the driver when the bus in which they were traveling drifted into the wrong lane on a mountain switchback. In the head-on collision that ensued, the driver in front of him and a woman who was sitting behind him died. He survived with multiple scars and a left leg that won’t bend. Todd and I talked about adversity, about his injuries, about my cancer and about his brother who suffers mightily with cystic fibrosis. We talked about the human spirit and how people rise to the challenges they’re given. About the ones who fold up and the ones who meet their challenges head-on and make the best of the time they’re given on this earth. I don’t know how many more times I’ll see Todd Hyatt. I’m sure we’ll be on some future paddling trips. He is one of the great people I’ve had the opportunity to meet in my life. He was there when I got to put to rest one of the demons I’ve been able to conquer. Rolling out of a kayak doesn’t scare me any more. I know I can do it and I know what to do when it happens again.
We ended the day with a Chattahoochee Paddling Club themed party. The dozens of campers below us must have heard a spirited rendition of the theme song from “Gilligan’s Island.” We had a costume contest and some good food and drink. I’ll post a link to some pictures in another post.
Yesterday was a good day. Jill, aka Mary Ann, joined me for the party and I finally got to prove to all my fellow paddlers that I do have a wife. She doesn’t know it (she will now) that I’m hoping she will be convinced to come out and enjoy this great outdoor sport of paddling. We have such a great resource in our river. And, I have found that one of the very best ways to see many of the good things the river has to offer is from the quiet, comfortable seat of a sea kayak.
Dinner break
Here’s a shot of our wine/cheese/dinner break on last Wednesday’s moonlight Goat Rock Lake paddle by fellow paddler Wayne Floyd. Wayne is an accomplished paddler, boat builder and photographer. He’s also an exceptionally nice guy.
We pushed off from Goat Rock Landing up Old River Road in Harris County about 6:45 p.m. last Wednesday evening and paddled about 2 miles upriver to the picnic spot you see in Wayne’s photo. Just before dark, we left this spot and headed back to the put in. Each of us had glow sticks on the front and back of our kayaks and the only navigation light we had came from the full moon. An occasional owl hoot, a fish hitting the surface, easy laughter from a happy group of paddlers and the sound of paddle strokes were the only sounds we heard. We got out of the water at about 10 p.m. A nice evening.
Quiet Period
My last post was April 21. Today is May 31. I apologize for the apparent lack of respect for my readers. A lot has happened since my last post. Most of it you wouldn’t care about. That is, for me, the exciting part. There aren’t any ghastly, life-changing or interesting medical situations to report. When you’re a cancer survivor that’s what you hope for — mundane, just-like-everyone-else days without needle sticks, blood draws and face time with people in white coats. I hope you’ll respect that I just needed some time to forget about medical things like making co-payments, filling prescriptions and lining up tests and procedures. Thanks be to God, I am now winding down my participation in the ASSURE clinical trial (end of 7th of 9 rounds) and my scans are on an every 6-month schedule. The down time has been good for me and for my family. It has felt good to put down the moments of sheer terror and replace them with a few hours of medical boredom. Medical boredom would suit the hell out of me for the remainder of what I plan to be a long, long life. I hope God has that same plan for me. I love it when a plan comes together.
During this down time, I have remained focused on getting back into shape. I still follow a mostly vegetarian diet and Jill and I have joined our fantastic new YMCA and have participated in a number of exercise classes. Yoga, spin, body pump, Zumba and turbo kick classes have been interesting and exhausting. My weight is down about 25 pounds from where I began on 12/31/09 and it is holding steady and dropping very slowly (which is what my nutritionist and my nephrologist want).
I was in the office one day and my phone rang. My friend and coffee guru, John Woodward, was on the other end of the line and he said, “I’ve got something to tell you that I think you’ll be interested in.” That phone call has spawned a new hobby, a big, after-cancer physical challenge and another thing for all my sister-wives at work (Jill, Marquette, Helena and Callie) to nag me about. I’m training for a once-in-a-lifetime two-week river adventure that will begin on my father’s birthday this fall. I, along with 30-ish other people will be paddling from Columbus to the Gulf of Mexico in sea kayaks. We’ll go down the Chattahoochee River, through 2 sets of locks into the Apalachicola River and right out into the Gulf of Mexico. This is exactly what I needed to provide me with a physical goal to really get back into shape.
I accepted the challenge before I had ever even set foot in a kayak. I have now been out 4 times and am getting accustomed to paddling and being inside one of these sleek, tippy boats. In case you didn’t know, the Chattahoochee Paddling Club is a well oiled machine. The club has 40 or 50 members and has a great Yahoo Groups website, a full calendar and holds interesting meetings that teach people about the wonders of kayaking. Here is a link to the club’s website. You can go there and see what is available for people with an interest in paddling.
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ChattahoocheePaddlingClub/
Last Saturday, the club sponsored a Strokes class, which was a 4-hour training session on the various strokes a kayaker needs to have in his/her arsenal. This Saturday is the Safety/Rescue class where the all-important means to rescue oneself will be taught — and I hope learned. The people whom I’ve met are some of the nicest people I’ve ever met. Having them in my life has added a wonderful new dimension to a life already busting at the seams with good friends. I’m looking forward to the trip and the opportunity to showcase some of the wonders of the river system in Columbus and the Valley magazine. More later on this subject.
One of the added benefits of this trip will be an opportunity to do some bonding with a new acquaintance, Gary Bayer, who is also the husband of Jill’s cousin, Jane Bayer. Jane is newly employed at the National Infantry Museum and Gary is a clinical psychologist. They recently moved here from Memphis and are busy putting their roots back into Chattahoochee Valley soil. Gary is an interesting guy and is all about a trip like this. He is a resourceful adventurer and is a lot of fun to be around. I know we’re going to have a ball on this trip. I also have found a mobile battery for my cpap machine, so it looks like the rest of the campers on the trip will be able to hear a snake sneaking up on them.
Again, thanks for bearing with me during a brief, but much-needed quiet time. There will be a lot to tell as I prepare my mind and body for a 265-mile paddling adventure. I’ll be blogging my way along the trip. Should make for some interesting blog posts. The best news is that there will also be some incredible photography to go along with my writings, because local photographer, Mike Culpepper, is also planning to go along for most, if not all, of the trip! I can’t wait to see what his accomplished, photographic eyes will see.