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.
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