morning workouts

My time in Durango flew by way too quickly, and suddenly Missouri's 45 degree mornings feel balmy compared to the last week in the mountains. I miss the mountains.

I had a lot of big questions I wanted to sort out in Durango. I got a couple of them answered, realized I'm not ready to answer one of them, and may have discovered the answers to a few questions I didn't know I had. But most importantly, I was able to relax and just train. It is something my mind and body both love, to be able to focus so completely on one thing. Now I am back home with 30 things to juggle.

I hope I can translate the momentum I found in Durango back to life in the 'lou.

kansas, the rockies, and on to durango...

Finally, I'm rolling west. Kansas sucks up time, it always does. I slept in Hayes, KS for 8 hours! My back hurts. Here is a self portrait of me and kansas (here!) don't ask. Driving got interesting once there were mountains. Wolf Creek pass was some challenging driving, but I passed through after dark and could not take in the view. But I could sense the mountains, barely silhouetted against the moonlight sky, sliding along side me in the dark, giant and black. But I arrived safely in Durango around 9pm, Saturday the 17th. I will be here for 9 wonderful days of paddling hard, eating, napping, paddling hard, eating, paddling, taking ibuprofen, sleeping, eating, paddling... you get the picture. i am here to work very hard.

a few photos from the US Olympic Training Complex in Colorado Springs:
happy, muscle-bounds statues
Lifting the globe seems easy after winning this gold medal
Mountains on the horizon through the olympic rings

How's paddling? Great. Exhausting. Recovery Hot Chocolate (here) is amazing.

Must sleep now. More soon.

fresh paint

My deck has a new layer of paint and a fresh gel coat. Stern will be done in a few weeks. It finally feels like my boat; I am so happy with it. More photos:

Taping outlines of the stripes
A nice coat of lime green
View from the stern once it's done

If I even need to attend an 80's themed paddling event, my boat will be ready! Thanks, Caroyln, for letting me use your backyard!

GAF at the Nantahala

I know! I haven't posted in forever! Well, I finally got my laptop battery fixed so expect a little more from me now. But my training hasn't missed a beat. Here are a few clips from last weekend in North Carolina.

Last Ditch Video

The quality is poor, but it's something:




Thanks to Gary for the generous use of his video camera, and to Kyle for filming my runs!!!

Ouch

Looks like I may be out of my boat for a week or so until I can bend my knee again. My mountain bike threw me off, and joint met rock with my whole body weight flying behind it. I am grateful my wrists and shoulders weren't involved. My body heals fast, I just need to give it the time and rest to let it do its thing.

I have a lot of momentum in my training right now. At this point, the 5 month off-season feels like a big window of possibility. I am sure I will be singing a slightly different tune when it is below freezing and my gear is still wet from the night before. Then I will rely on my commitment to my sport, whether or not I am feeling motivated. But right now I am really feeling motivation -- a strong, irresistible drive to get in my boat and feel powerful.

Slalom Worlds wrapped up this weekend in Brazil: http://cbca.org.br/foz2007/english/index.php

I had a fun week following paddlers' blogs and live results online throughout the semifinals and finals. This is a difficult sport to follow in the US -- but live results and finally knowing more about individual athletes has captivated my interest.

I never posted this picture, and I love it. On the way to a workout a few weeks ago, I stopped to fill up with gas. There was a dinosaur. So I put my camera on autotimer and set it on my trunk, and chased the big green lizard down.

Last Ditch Slalom Results

Look at that posture! I think this is the first picture of me
in a race where I am leaning forward aggressively.

Last race of the year. I have been racing for 5 months now, and I got in a C1 for the first time only 4 months ago. I did 5 races this summer, and trained on the water for over 100 hours. My first season has come to a close.

I came to the Wolf River wanting tangible proof of my progress. I wanted to win, but more importantly, I wanted to feel like I am becoming an athlete again.

The race went well. There were no magic moments -- no runs where suddenly I could access my full potential and nailed every move. But I'm not sure I want that kind of progress. I am getting better, slowly, and there is plenty of room to grow. I can feel potential, buzzing below the surface. I want it, badly. But there aren't any shortcuts.

I won C1W and K1W rec. It felt good to beat women who'd be beating me all summer. I actually raced. And I renewed my drive and motivation for a long fall and winter's worth of training.

Most importantly, I took home a golden cow! This is the Buttercup Slalom Series, after all. I had a great time at all of the races in this series this summer. I met wonderful, supportive, and hilarious people. I borrowed C1s, K1s, C2s, and open canoes to race in. I made great friends who I will miss this winter.

carbon fiber boat repair, take one

Over labor day weekend, my boat finally got a repair job more permanent than duct tape. I learned how to use resin, carbon fiber, and kevlar cloth to patch the cracks and rebuild the bow and stern.

Check out last 11 pictures in this set:

Boat Damage & Repair

Finally, I can paddle in the Mississippi without worrying that an alligator gar (this one was pulled out of the mighty miss' in 1910) will come rip off my duct tap patch causing my boat to sink in a matter of minutes.

Excitement from the repair work gave me the momentum to redo my outfitting. New knee and ankle pads were put in to give me some more squish and grip. To get my weight forward, I added a back pad. The new foam hip pads are not quite big enough, but provide much better contact with the boat. I used contact cement to anchor this all in. After ambitiously lowering my pedestal another 1", my boat looks ready to go. We'll have to see if my ankles can handle all this.

All done! For now, anyway... I am starting to realize that boat repair is never done when you own a composite boat.

and the skies open up...

I haven't stared at a gauge this much since last winter, and this time my staring actually seems to be working. It's been bottomed out all summer -- our one local whitewater gem is rain fed and shrinks to a trickle during the dry summer months. But with more ran in the forecast, the Saint may actually hit boatable levels this weekend! Which is killing me. I work all day, every single day, until I leave town on Wednesday night. I want nothing more than to get back on the Saint right now. With all our new hires and training needs this fall, my job is not flexible. Frustrating.

Click here for a live gauge of the Saint's level. Boatable aka "zero inches" is usually around 3 feet on this gauge. Click here for precip tables.

Now you know what I stare at all day.

Of course the Wolf, where I will be next weekend, is staying low. Its gauge is online here. The upper midwest has been getting buckets of rain this month, but it hasn't quite been far north enough to hit the Wolf.

some honesty

It’s been a long, hard week. I tend to update here when I am energized by training. Positive experiences get posted quickly. When I am frustrated, tired and unmotivated, the last thing I want to do is write about it.

I have been in my boat several times this week, but the last time I really felt on my game was over 10 days ago. It seems like it’s been much longer than that. I am disconnected. My shoulder muscles feel like bricks and not rubberbands. Try as I might, I haven’t been able to get loose. I can get on the water, and go through the motions, but my head is not in the game. Not even close.

I’ve figured out what’s going on in my head – and I know how to start sorting it out. I have some decisions to make. And I am very grateful to the friends who have helped me talk through this.




My Ocoee trip was incredible. Simply because, in the middle of tablesaw, for a split second -- nothing existed beside me and the boat, my paddle and the wave. Absolutely nothing in the world. I am getting more comfortable in that environment, and more prepared to push myself. If I have the right boat, I’ll be in a C1 next time. I felt ready.

And on the Pigeon, I was positively itching for my C1. It would have been a fun challenge. I don’t want to miss opportunities like that. Some pictures:

The powerhouse at the put-in of the Pigeon.
An older picture, me standing at the put-in of the Ocoee.

I also got my new paddle last weekend. It is light, sexy, and 2 inches longer – which makes my left shoulder very happy. I am thrilled, and have been constantly holding it and fidgeting with it (in the car, at work) since I got it. But it’s funny, unless I am really focusing on how the catch (etc.) feels, I am even not aware that it’s a different paddle when I am on the water. Just like I’m not conscious of my cool new pfd. My mind is filled with sensations instead.



New gear doesn’t make me a better paddler. Off the water, pieces of new gear are symbols of my passion, tangible proof that I am becoming a slalom racer. But on the water, I don’t give a crap what my gear looks like. I care how my trap feels when it fires, how quickly my abs snap back after I wind them up. I care about feeling glide. If I'm lucky, I flow.

It’s a feeling I miss. I have some hard thinking to do this week. Writing about it is good for me, and I’ll try to not completely ignore this website as I work through all this.

As I’m typing, my shoulders are hunched up. My right rotator cuff is sending off little bursts of pain; some strange signal fire.

Still Tripping to the Pigeon

It should be a good weekend. Finally, a chance to get on some whitewater after 6 weeks of Missouri flatwater! Pigeon & Ocoee. In my kayak. I'll miss my C1, and it will be strange to be in a short boat again. But I can't wait to fire it up.

My tent needed some serious repair -- one aluminum pole had bent and the segments had frozen together. I was simply going to try and separate the pieces. But when you work at REI & have a gear problem, you better be ready for some creative solutions. Before I knew what was happening, Jake had my tent poles completely disassembled. We got out the pliers, vice, and PG2000. With in 10 minutes, my busted pole was replaced with a shiny new red segment. Excellent. Time to go sleep in a tent.

I also get my new paddle this weekend! Trip report to come on Tuesday.

168,000 cubic feet per second

I've spent the last two weeks in flatwater gates. They are good for me. I am learning things. And I am already sick of them.

Okay, not really. I love my gates. I am just thirsty for current. To me, paddling is fundamentally an interaction of forces -- my body and the water both interact with my boat. That's where the fun is. That's when the magic happens. And on flat, glassy water it is only me. It feels like I'm paddling through peanut butter.

The Mississippi scares me. It's not that I think paddling out in the channel is inherently dangerous - it isn't - but that much water has a certain power. She surges and subsides; 4 foot waves will break out in the middle only to suddenly calm, as if holding her breath for a moment. The quarter-mile wide river undulates. And the current is deceptively strong.

So, of course I love it. Full of adrenaline, I put on this evening after work. One tugboat powered northward, its 5,600 horsepower engines pushing a load three barges wide by six barges long. Its wake lifted me and dropped my C1 several feet as I tried to attach my new skirt to the cockpit. I hurried out to play. The tug left a wavetrain behind it, with at least a dozen 8-foot high waves.

I've been frustrated lately. Just a little bit. Expectant; anxious. I haven't felt powerful. I haven't felt like my boat and I were on the same team. I've been faithfully waiting for this sensation to comeback to me.

Sunday nights, the barge traffic on the Mighty Miss slows down. Except for that first mammoth load, I was the only moving vessel on the river. I got right into the meat of the current and charged against it. It took 25 minutes, paddling literally as hard as I could, to reach a shipping channel buoy, 1500 feet upstream. The large waves would lift me and I would accelerate down their face. The first few times it happened I let out a whoop of surprise, stopped paddling, and my bow buried a couple of feet into the trough. Soon I had learned to carve down them and use that momentum to carry me up the next wave.

I felt powerful. When my arms started to fatigue, I began to really paddle with my torso. I locked my eyes on the buoy. I was not going to give up.

It was a good night. I needed time alone. I needed to immerse myself in something much bigger and more powerful than myself. I needed to be scared, and paddle through it.

It's a step in the right direction. One more step.

One step at a time.

Video and Pictures from Nationals

Finally enjoying a few days off from work, I found time to watch the video and dig through the pictures from Nationals. The more I paddle and work on my own technique, the more I see while watching video of others. My eye is now quick to pick out where people put their weight as they make small correction strokes and how much extraneous movement is created in the boat during forward strokes.

Nationals Video: http://www.joelmccune.com/node/141
Photos 1: US Slalom Nationals
Photos 2: US Nationals 2007

There is one moment from the nationals video that keeps playing itself over and over in my mind. After leaving gate 11 (a river-left up) one of the better C1s (a right-side paddler) peels back into the current paddling cross-bow. The next gate is a river-right down. Many other righty’s here do one or two cross-bow strokes, and then return to their on-side for a few strokes, regaining stability. But this paddler was just as stable paddling cross-bow. He stays there through the next gate, building glide, leaning aggressively forward and digging super deep. On about the third stroke, the boat just takes off. Serious acceleration. I smiled and let out a yelp (while having lunch in Panera Bread), and watched that one stroke several times over. I want that kind of stability and power. Force. Acceleration. Running the boat. Things for my waterlogged brain to chew on.

On a few sections of the ASCI course, the differences between paddlers’ boat control and choice of line was significant. One of these was gate 10, a flush/upstream below a drop. Many boaters ended up spinning out above the gate (such as at 9:17 on the first video) and floundering to get back through it. I don’t know who pink helmet is, but his line (at 18:00 in the first video) seems to work very well. Pictures from the race make it obvious just how strong the water was at that point. A boater from Maryland posted these photos of the last three C1s approaching the gate.



That drop definitely would have worked me over a few times. As another racer said, “the hard part about that 10 jump was trusting your right edge while throwing your body up and then down and trying to get back on the power…” I need to learn to trust my edges in whitewater – which means time practicing in whitewater. Something I don’t have much access to in Missouri. Oh, Saint Francis, please come up fast this season! But I can start doing edge work now. Fall pool sessions begin next week, and I am excited to really get to know my C1 on a whole different level. We are going to spend plenty of time on edge and upside down.

N=kg•m/s2

What is a Newton?

It is a unit of force. Precisely, the amount of force needed to accelerate a 1 kilogram mass at a rate of 1 m/s². Which is cool, because I am all about acceleration. But to me, it's also a piece of much needed gear made by Astral Buoyancy. Astral is a relatively small company making PFDs for paddlers and sailors. They have incredible customer service (after I pointed out you couldn’t see a certain feature on a product, they posted new pictures on their website within a day), and they have stayed creative (integrating hydration, highly flexible designs, breathable foam). They are also the leading company in producing less toxic, easily recyclable foams. So, I was pretty excited to tear open the cardboard box that came in the mail and pull out my new Newton.

Slowly, I am beginning to replace my gear. I just can’t afford much right now. My slalom boat is still in need of major composite work, and my most recent duct tape patches are already useless. Loading up the boats for practice yesterday, my C1 was sandwiched next to my roommate’s K1; the beautiful carbon-kevlar repair work on her stern was quite a contrast next to my taped bow. My booties serve as paddling for my ankles, but are entirely ridiculous as footwear. One piece at a time, I guess.

a team effort

After over 12 hours of work, my friends and I finally have 30 lengths of 3/4” PVC pipe hanging from electrical fence wire. It is a huge victory. After searching all over the metro area – bushwhacking through crops of evil plants, battling 100+ degree heat, facing dead ends and no trespassing signs, shallow and polluted water, and horseflies the size of hummingbirds – we finally found a site. There is no current, but it is a definite start. I called every farm supply store in town to find a bargain on quarter mile spools of 14 guage wire and bailing twine. We hung wires once by hand, and then had to hike back in to raise them with ladders. I used the thigh straps from my boat to turn my ladder into LadderPack! a cunning invention that I decided I could sell for 2 easy payments of 9.99, and one extremely difficult payment of 3.83. You see, anything is funny after 4 hours in the St. Louis August sun.

I never could have done this without my friends. I have remarkable people in my life who paddled twine across the canal to pull wires with, loaned gear and a video camera for technique sessions, stood in bushes of scratchy, rash-inducing weed to film workouts, and tromped through thick mud on the banks of the Mississippi to watch me try and attain around barges. I am incredibly fortunate to have friends who are excited about what I am trying to do; they keep me positive instead of frustrated and overwhelmed. Thank you so much.

Each morning, I paddle out, portage a small dam, and back into the wooded area where our wires are. I pull the gates out over the stagnant water and set a course. I do a few rolls to remind my hips they need to be involved in my workout. And I get to work. I have so much work to do, but I finally have a flatwater course to help me get there.

the O-word

The Beijing Olympics begin in exactly one year, with the whitewater slalom competition taking place August 11th through the 14th, 2008. I’m already excited. Worlds is arguably a better event for actually establishing who is the best, but “the O-word” does hold a unique prestige. When I was swimming, I dreamed of competing in the lanes at Barcelona (my favorite t-shirt read "No Pain, No Spain") or Atlanta (another shirt, "No Pain, No Peaches").

US paddlers are in China right now preparing for the whitewater test event next week. Some pictures of the course are posted on Cathy Hearn's website:

http://www.cathyhearn.com/?q=gallery&g2_itemId=1295

Operation Hydration

Keeping a food long can be a little intimadating. I just finished two weeks of writing down every single thing I put in my mouth. I am not an unhealthy eater, but little things add up -- especially when certian coworkers like to feed you junk food on an hourly basis. Stressed? Eat chocolate. Trying to solve a problem? Have some cheez-its. Had a good day? Let's eat ice cream. It's 11am? Where are the cookies? I think our bike shop runs on suger and salt.

What I eat is actually all pretty healthy stuff, but there were holes I wouldn't have discovered without writing all this down. Even if I get enough water every day, for example, I tend to get dehydrated and then drink tons of water to catch up. To get me in the habit of hydrating more regularly, I wore my Camelback at work for a week. It made a huge difference. Easier to fall asleep at night, even. The footwear staff now calls me "water girl" but as far as nicknames go, I'm sure they could have come up with much worse. After all, water has a rather central role in my life.



We also learned I am not getting enough protien. Need lots of cheap protien? COSTO has 6lb bags. Hopefully all of this will help w/ muscle recovery as I ramp up the intensity of my training.

Slalom Nationals are Today!

Today, the country's best slalom athletes are all in Maryland. I am in Missouri. I am sitting at my desk at work, not even out in the sun, in my boat. It's driving me crazy.

Their webcam resolution is not very good, but I can still make out C1s and C2s warming up at the course. The racing begins today at 3pm EST.

The ASCI course is new this summer, the latest artifical course to be built in the US since the course in Charlotte opened just in time for Nationals last year. There are other possible courses on the table for many cities -- and the success, struggles, and management choices of these newer courses are being watched carefully by athletes and developers alike.

Some photos of course:
The four adjustable features
Racers practice on the course

Next year, I will be there.

Duct Tape Hull Repair, Take 3

Once dessert was baking in the oven, the C1 was brought up to the living room for its long overdue re-taping. You see, I haven't been in my boat in almost a week. Time to eliminate my excuse and get back on the water.

We pulled the last duct tape job off to thoroughly investigate the damage. I knew where it was leaking, but wanted to know how much of the structure was gone at those spots. The stern and bow are in pretty sorry shape, as is the cockpit rim in several sections. There are also two cracks in the hull, about 3 feet back from the cockpit.

Photos of the damage are online here.

My duct tape technique is improving. Who needs carbon fiber, right? First, I put on a layer of tape to seal off the hole & provide some structure. Plastic knives work wonders for bracing sections of cracked cockpit rim. I then use a plastic bag (Ziploc heavy-duty freezer bags are awesome) cut to size over the damage. They fit snugly over the bow and stern. I then add a second layer of tape over this, rubbing it on to ensure a good bond.



It is a lot of work for something I keep doing over & over again, but it’s worth it. When I took off the Mississippi after an hour session this morning, I didn’t even have a liter of water in the boat (normally I get a liter every 15 minutes). We’ll see how long this try holds up.

Cycling Mis-Adventures

By car, I live about 20 miles from work. Via bike, it shouldn’t be more than 25 or 27. I woke up this morning thinking about my neglected bianchi. It had been days since I’ve done any intense physical activity, and my body was telling me in no uncertain terms that it needed some. Badly.

I finally found my road shoes while unpacking this weekend, and so decided it was about time I started riding to work. I had ridden home once before – but after an unplanned rugby game on the way home, and the subsequent hanging out – it was dark, late and not much fun. I also discovered that the Dougherty Ferry bridge across 270 is gone. But I digress.

Today I gave myself an hour and a half to get to work. Plenty of time. I don’t have internet at my house (um, or a map) so couldn’t double check my route, but I assumed I would figure it out.

The city is very different than the county. I keep realizing this in different ways the more time I spend in Ballwin. In the city, if I have a cardinal direction, I can get anywhere. The layout of streets makes sense to me. The county is a curvy, windy mess.

So, long story short, I went the wrong way. When the road I thought was clayton dead-ended into a highway and I realized the sun was not in my eyes but rather over my right shoulder, I sheepishly called a friend. She gave me directions and offered a ride, but I was determined to get myself out of this mess. She showed up anyway -- found me sweaty and peddling down Clayton road near Ballas. At least I was heading east. Setting my pride aside for a moment, my quads were happy to see her. Thanks, Michele.

I get to try again as I bike home tonight. Perhaps this time I will look at a map first. I'm frustrated about being late to work, but my body is loving this. Last year I had done close to 5,000 miles on my bike by August, this year I am not even at 1,000. It's good to be back on two wheels.

rough week

Every thing is going right and yet I still feel awful. One of those times were you have to just keep being productive, and assume your psyche will get itself in gear within a day or two.

I'm not unpacked yet, and that isn't helping. No internet at the new house so I'm not posting frequently, sorry. I don't have all that much on my plate, really, but with training and work taking up about 98% of my time, I feel overwhelmed by all the little things that pile up so quickly. And trying to kick the mild caffeine addiction at the same time doesn't help either.

So -- I'm here, I'm still paddling, and more stories are on their way soon.

subido pics

James Subido has posted his pictures from Colorado here. They are mostly shots of talented kids tearing it up at the Junior Olympic races. There are some really great moments -- definitely worth looking through. Thanks, James!

the search begins

There has to be a decent training site within 30 minutes of my house. There just has to be. I live near the confluence of three major rivers, a junction of waterways that collectively drain a watershed of over one million square miles. The Mississippi clocks by Saint Louis at a healthy pace of 168,000 cubic feet per second. I'm not asking much -- I don't need whitewater -- I just want a place where I can hang a few dozen gates over some current. That's not too much to ask, is it?

Yesterday I drove and paddled all day, investigating sites on 4 rivers and 2 creeks. I found a small river that looked promising, except it was in a clearly residential area. I thought I would at least stop and chat w/ some of the folks (let them know why I was repeatedly driving down their street at 5mph, staring at the water) and ask if they had any ideas. But, for a Sunday afternoon, there was no one around. One house had small building in front. 8 bar stools circled a small open-air bar, which appeared to be well stocked. The sign read "tiki bar, OPEN" but no one was around. A cat sat on the bartender's stool, watching me expectantly. When I drove by 10 minutes later, he was still there. Clearly, the bar was his territory.




Later in the day, I did find two potential sites. Both of which have major drawbacks.

"Site A" is 5 minutes from my house, a nice bonus. It's extremely coach friendly; there's practically a raised viewing platform. The area is small, only about 30 feet wide and long enough to hang 10 gates. It would be easy to hang gates here. There is no current to speak of. Huge fish. My biggest concern with the site is the water depth. It is just barely deep enough as is, and it has dropped nearly 5 feet since I first investigated a month ago. I worry it will keep getting shallower over the summer.

"Site B" was an adventure. 40 min from my current house, and access is terrible. Deep into mega-industry land, it is impossible to get here without trespassing. I need to see if I can put on the Mississippi upstream and paddle down. The shore is not coach friendly -- my friends will need to invest in big rubber boots and a machete to get through the brush. The size is perfect, long enough to hang 30 gates, and wide enough to set many combinations. The width between the tree lines does mean it will be a huge pain to set gates, but it is do-able. 6+ feet deep right now. I know the level fluctuates, and I have seen it much lower, but I have better hopes for this site than site A.

And now for my biggest concern - the water quality is AWFUL. Unchecked industrial pollution and the outflow from a wastewater treatment plant means I would never want to get splashed by the stuff. The best part through, is the proximity to the Mississippi. I can go play in the waves. That is really good for me - to have something moving the hull around besides myself. Interaction of forces. Good.

So I am going to keep looking; no winners yet. The search resumes today.

twelve days on the front range

I swear the Rocky Mountains have their own gravitational pull. It's good I-70 is basically downhill all the way to the mississippi river, otherwise I'm not sure I would have made it back.

All the races took place in Golden, just east of the front range. The weather was amazing. Hot, but without St. Louis' you-can-cut-the-air-with-a-knife humidity. The water was snowmelt, and swims were a shock to the system. I swam out of my C1 several times in the first few days.

In US Cup 3, I finished with a DNF after a swim at gate 10. The course was actually a great level for me. Clearly challenging, but not overwhelming. I set my sights on the race the following weekend.

During the week, I had a chance to travel west into the mountains. We ran brown's canyon on the Ark. It was stunning, and was wonderful to just run a river. As usual, it left me hungry for much, much more. I also got a chance to scout a few of the famous class V colorado creeks... I'd never seen whitewater like that before in my life. Incredible. I was able to train on a course in Salida, and on gates hung on the Platte River in downtown Denver. Several Junior Olympic events also took place during the week. A highlight was watching the cadet and junior C1 playboats rock the hole with pirouettes and even a phonics monkey. Okay, I don't really know what that is. But it looked very cool.

By the second weekend, I'd figured a few things out. I was in a different boat, and comfortable on the water. Staying upright was no longer my biggest concern -- I wanted to race! But on my first run, I reverted back to old habits. I waited for stability on my stern; I wasn't really racing.

My second run was better. Much better. My raw time dropped from 231.70 to 198.30. I got on my bow. I drove the boat. I raced. The was a magic moment just before gate 16, three quarters of the way down the course. For just a few seconds, I was in control enough that I could accelerate the way I'd been doing on flatwater all week. My abs, quads, and back all poured power into my stoke. I came into gate 16 tight, turned up through it, and peeled back out with my eyes already on 17. The moment was brief, but it was a glimpse of where I could be heading. I'm hungry for more of that. I believe the word might be autotelic. Addicting. Maybe they are the same thing.

The trip was truly made amazing by the kindness and generosity of the paddling community. I stay in the house of a family I had never met, and was welcomed like an old friend. I received advice from coaches and athletes from all over the country. This is the atmosphere slalom needs to nurture and build off of. I am so glad I decided to travel here.

More colorado photos are here.

Taz mania?

Who knew that 25 lbs of carbon-kevlar could get a girl this excited?

I am nothing short of ecstatic. The asparagus boat has been very good to me, but I am already outgrowing it. When I paddle this boat, I can feel potential. It has edges that I can't wait to get to know & use.

Of course, it's only new to me. The previous owner paddled it hard, and there is a lot to fix. The bow and stern both need major repair, there are several cracks in the hull, and the seam tape (between the deck and the hull) needs to be replaced. The biggest obstacle, however, was the seat.



Quite honestly, my butt didn't quite fit. And that hurt. After the first day I had some pretty amazing bruises where the hip supports dug into me. The boat felt so much better on the water than the green boat - I was determined to paddle it - but I paid for it. After one particularly rough wet-exit (I ended up with bruises the size of baseballs on both legs), my friend Laura (aka LA) told me we had to do something that night.




So we did. Nic, Joel and I took turns grinding the seat out. After trying a few different powertools and sacrificing a few inches of cockpit rim, we finally got it all. Dust and shavings were everywhere. Some toxic, epoxy cloud had come to snow all over my boat.



With help, I built a foam pedestal. After paddling other C1s during the week (like joel's and tom's, I had a good idea of what I wanted. I reinforced the busted cockpit rim with strips of hard plastic, and put duct tape over the cracks in the hull. It still needs a lot of work, but it was ready to get on the water.

Paddling the Taz post gut-rehab was totally different. Instead of being strapped on top of a boat (thereby balancing "on" it), we were connected. My lower body relaxed. I relaxed.

I realized that this could get dangerously fun.

Click here for the rest of the Taz pictures.

Finally!

After several hours in city hall, my plates are finally renewed! I spent a fair bit of time here, back in the days when my life revolved around city politics. It was a little strange and bittersweet to be wandering the same halls. I can vividly remember pacing outside the mayor's office, nervously smoothing the front of my suit for the thousandth time, and wondering just how obvious it was that I was only 22. I think I miss that life more than I realize.

video from Colorado

Joel threw together some footage of me working on a ferry in Salida, CO:

http://www.joelmccune.com/node/118

This was about halfway through the trip. When I show up in the blue C1, it is my first time ever in that boat. Getting our love / hate relationahip off to a great start, I ended up with several bruises from the seat which did not fit.

I have actually written a trip report from colorado (including some great pictures) but my laptop hasn't been connected to the interent since I've returned to St. Louis. Hopefully by the end of the week it will all be posted!

get off your stern and paddle

When I am racing slalom, my reaction to instability gets me into trouble. When I feel out of control, I tense up and wait for the boat to stabilize before I continue. The problem is, slalom boats aren't happy when they are going slower than the water. My habit only makes things worse; the water grabs the edges and I loose momentum. What I need to do when I feel unstable is paddle aggressively forward. Getting on the bow, building up speed, and driving ahead will stabilize the boat almost instantly. That needs to become my habit, my gut reaction.

I was thinking about this as I waited in the St. Louis County Department of Revenue office today -- studying the other folks in the room, clutching a little slip printed with "247," which told me I only had 6 people in front of me. My friends know that I have a remarkable ability to procrastinate, often on the things that are most important to me. I think here I also "wait and see" -- when I feel out of control or overwhelmed, my habit is to shy away from the action until I feel better. This doesn't mean I won't jump headlong into big challenges, it just means that sometimes I'm caught sitting back on my stern when things get pushy.

And that's not okay. I don't want to be a "wait and see" boater and I certainly don't want to live my life that way. When things get unstable, I need to be on my bow, looking ahead & driving forward.

Today was rough. I tend to function well when my life is very full, but not *this* full. My to-do list has about 30 pretty urgent things on it. I can get some done online, but no internet at my new house yet. Plus, my laptop needs a new battery, and won't function without the powercord, which is in my car, which is in the shop. Just after fixing the left headlight and blinker, the right goes out, getting me pulled over so the cop can also see my plates are expired. So I spent hours and hours today getting sent from office to office because apparently moving from the county to the city and back while trying to pay personal property taxes is a very dumb idea. And everything I own is still packed in boxes, making the search for my car’s title a small archeological expedition. And my boat leaks. And my shoulders hurt and this really scares me because I’m putting other parts of my life on hold for a sport in which my butt is still getting whooped by 14 year-olds.

Okay, done whining. I needed to vent, and more importantly, crush my blog's image as a "upbeat school newsletter" (Hi, Dave!). Life is actually quite fabulous. Once I am unpacked and get a few nights with a full 8 hours of sleep, constantly-optimistic Laura should be back in full force.

it just doesn't get any better than this

too much to do to spend time typing!

colorado

I made it! Seeing mountains again is incredible.

The course will be challenging for me (two swims today) but a great place to push myself this week.

I'm exhausted & need sleep. But I will have daily internet access, so hopefully race updates won't take to long to post.

Photos from Age Group Nationals!

Thanks to Joel Ness, my clean lines, mistakes, and swims are all well-documented:

• Focusing in on gate 11
• A young C2 team digs together
• Scott and his new Loco head down the course
• and I'm out of the boat
• Hailey launches into 210 drop
• Ready with a right brace
• Hailey plants a graceful bow draw
• My green boat gets a rescue
• the C2 women fire it up
• power through the up
• ready to punch 210 drop
• a good line down tongue drop

View all the photos from the weekend

got those Corolla blues

So my car is well overdue for a new belt and tensioner. Therefore, of course, the part is on back-order nationwide. There is one in Ohio; that's about it.

It should get here and be installed just in time for my drive west, but until then I won't have a car. But I am supposed to be moving to a new house this weekend! And training on the lake out in west county. And helping with sales set-up at REI.

This is not going to be a fun week.

now we're rollin'

Jojo waded into the Carlton reservoir to hold my paddle as I practiced my hipsnaps. About 15 minutes later, I was coming up on my own. I think my brain had reverted back to a kayak roll torso movement, and the c1 is totally different.

While I can get myself up in a lake, trying the roll in whitewater wasn't successful. I think I fight the water too much as I try to set up for the roll -- pushing my paddle and the boat through the current in order to get into the position I am used to starting in. Hopefully I can tune this up over the next week before I head to Colorado.

Here's some video a friend took of me this morning. This one was pretty smooth:




But this try wasn't as successful. You can see how much my boat moves on the water as I set up. When my rolling motion isn't strong and clean, I end up bracing my paddle very deep to get enough leverage to get up:

Age Group Nationals

1st place - C1W (I was the only one in the class)
2nd place - K1W overall (1st in my age group)

On Thursday and Friday, I only trained in my kayak. I never quite got comfortable on the larger drops, and I assumed I'd swim out of my C1 at least once. I thought I would put it off until the milder Buttercup race on Sunday.

Then, Friday night, I had a thought. I was paddling way out on the reservoir, chilling out with the loons and watching the sunset. Registration was closed, and no other women had registered for C1! If I could just make it down the course, I would win the event. I had nothing to loose. If I swam, so be it.



The next morning, I spoke with the race director, Randy, and added C1 to my registration. I am so glad that I did. This felt like my first "real" slalom race. Big, pushy water, really amazing athletes, sexy new composite boats. I am so glad that I pushed myself -- it means I will be one step father along when I get to Golden in a couple of weeks.

Everyday got better -- over the weekend, the water somehow morphed from terrifying to exhilarating; the gates went from impossible to wonderfully challenging. At the Buttercup race on Sunday, Hailey (an amazing 13 year-old from Wisconsin) had a great run in her glass C1, and in our excitement we decided to run C2. We borrowed Pete and Susan's glass C2 and headed back up to the top. We splashed, laughed, and dug deep all the way down the course. Again, I find myself more focused when I am in a boat with another paddler than when I am alone. We cleaned the final drop easily (something I was never able to do in my glass C1) and paddled backwards across the finish line after blowing the last upstream gate. It was a fun run, and we were the only C2W all weekend!

I am inspired. I want this.


A few pictures:

My blue helmet cleans gate 20
Hailey heads towards an upstream gate
The Saint Louis River is a stunning place to paddle
The blue C2 was a little fiesty
The bruising on my right foot showed up again
The UMD training site was a great resource and made me quite jealous
My sleek's toothy grin launched down the river

saint louis, the river

Today was a fun, invigorating, and humbling day.

I ran the upper St. Louis River with three friends in my sleek. It is that north shore, ice-tea colored water. Several big class II wave trains (200 feet of 4 foot waves). Fun to punch through. I played, flipped, and rolled comfortably and consistently. I finally feel like I have the skill base in a kayak to really push myself & have fun (instead of using 90% of my brain to worry about staying right-side up). If only I was at this point in a C1. In someways, I feel like I am starting from the beginning again.

After we took out, Ryan and I hiked down to the put-in for the lower (below the dam) to run the race course. The release was only 600 cfs today; the race will be run at 850-950 cfs. I wonder how much that will change the river features.

I did fine. I leaned forward, paddled hard and blasted cleanly through the hydraulic... and, of course, right by most of the gates. This water is fast and getting to these gates will be a challenge for me in a kayak, much less in my C1. I still don't have my C1 roll, by the way.


Video of the first drop:



I've been watching a lot of C1 slalom video recently. It excites me and I am learning from it -- I can identify good moves and bad moves and explain why some line choices work better than others. Watching these guys (some video here) move through the course with precision and strength almost makes it seem easy. I can visualize myself making those same moves.

And then I get on the lower St. Louis - fast current, deep holes, big waves - and suddenly I am amazed that anyone can do a clean run through these gates. I feel uncoordinated, weak, and overwhelmed. I have so much work to do.

But I know what is possible, even if I am a long way off from it. I may not make all of the gates in my C1 this week, but I have four days to try hard. And I will leave this race as a better paddler. One more step towards where I want to be.

No internet access over the weekend, I'll post race reports on tuesday!