Standup Paddling grants me peace and balance in the world. When I glide away from the shore, otters and seals, pelicans and cormorants, all manner of sea birds and sea life surround me, and they are a refreshing distraction from my “real life,” especially given the events in the past two weeks. My ex-husband, out of the blue and out of my life for over 34 years, randomly messaged me asking and offering forgiveness for both of our transgressions, and informed me of his scheduled repeat angiogram, and requested that his ashes be scattered in La Jolla, near where we were married. I needed a long SUP today.
I paddled up the Elkhorn Slough, essentially a “birthing” and “nursery” center for sea life, where juvenile sea otters frolic and younger ones lay wrapped like cocoons in kelp. With the wind at my back, the sun kissing my shoulders, and the birds singing such beautiful notes, I felt as though I was beginning to regain my balance. Rocking my paddleboard and my life were the undercurrents of discontent and unresolved issues of long ago, like long strands of seaweed that occasionally wrap around the skeg of the board. I think I am doing fine, and then suddenly, Wham! Stopped short of my goal. Alternatively, I move along at a smooth pace, but gradually I realize that I am working far harder than necessary, from the hitchhiking seaweed (and more baggage) that I drag along.
This time, my goal was the distant railroad tracks, about 3 miles upriver, an easy half hour paddle—out, that is. My return trek, on the other hand, took 1 ½ hours as I fought the rising tides, afternoon winds, and complete exhaustion. At some point, I stopped paddling for a brief respite, only to find I was swept back some 10 feet by the currents and conditions. I needed to garner all my energy just to finish—on my knees at this point. Standing, I was merely a sail.
Lesson learned—Focus on the moment at hand, just one stroke at a time.
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