I dug deep deep into that place where I keep things that will propel me to save myself. But in doing so it was like I lit the other end of my candle and nearly melted the whole thing. I have slept so much, never slept like that, not unless I was recovering a big surgery. There was not much farther down I could have dug.
In cycling they talk about "bonking," or in running "hitting the wall." So, I bonked, I pushed past that, and bonked a second time. That was a serious humbling.
But this week, I finally woke back up. So glad to finally feel alive again. I am beginning to think about Southport again, and Frying Pan Shoals. Ah, I guess a place can weave itself into your story and then it is there, waiting for you to return.
But in the meantime I am spinning pivot turns, bow rudders, and high brace turns. I weave back and forth around my club paddlers. I think a fair number of them do not even understand what I am doing. One of them recently said if he'd known I was "going to fall over," he would have gotten his camera out. This was right after I carved a beautiful high brace turn, putting my whole right arm under water and coming up with slow soft control. Fall over, indeed.
So, I know my dear reader comes here for the photos, so here is the goods:
 |
| Logo for James and I, mark 1 |
 |
| the Lorax repairing Coach's Surf |
 |
| Fragrant Water Lily, an American native |
 |
| Club paddle at Mason Neck State Park |
 |
| Club paddlers |
No comments:
Post a Comment