Monday, 19 January 2015

Making a splah


Frantic phone calls were exchanged by my sister and I as we dashed to kayaking on Saturday morning.  The calls went along the lines of whoever gets there first needs to get boats out.   Ross had had to chuck a gallon of hot water over the car windscreen to clear ice from it, before we could even contemplate leaving home. It was a race to be there in time to make our starting slots for the club’s monthly time trials and also to nab a boat before they were all claimed by the more punctual, better organised club members. 

It started sleeting as we drove away from home.  We must be mad… man, was it cold!  I was wearing 4 layers including a fleece and a wind and shower proof jacket, long running leggings, waterproof trousers and a buff on my head.  I also had socks on with my water shoes. I was going kayaking…for fun in the middle of winter!

Anyway, we got there before my sister and nephew did and in plenty of time for our slot but most of the boats had already been claimed.  (I think next weekend I shall be there before the sparrows do their morning fart let alone open their beaks to sing the dawn chorus. Even if that means getting up before the crack of dawn….)

Anyway back to this weekend.

My sister, Hannah, arrived to find me staring at the virtually empty boat racks. Ross had sorted himself out; he was doing the 6 mile course.  I had sorted out my younger children and was now considering my own very limited options.

Oh dear…..

“There’s not much left,” I pointed out unnecessarily.

“I think we need to go in the two man.” she said.  This wasn’t a bad suggestion, I like going with her in the k2,  my only concern was my hip being compressed in the narrow confines of the front cockpit.  That is my usual position and I am pace setter and steer when we kayak together. 

“I’ll give it a go,” I said bravely.

There was a short interlude whilst she organised her son’s kayak choice and then between us, we managed to wrangle the k2 out of the rack and take it outside to the bank to set it up. She held the thing steady while I manoeuvred myself into the front cockpit.  I was in there for all of 30 seconds.

“No…no…get me out….my hip.  It’s rubbing on my hip… I can’t go in the front.”  I cried.  She helped me disengage myself from its jaws.  The relief!  The pair of us have the same leg length but she is taller than me sitting down.  We are both blessed with um…child-bearing hips but I think she won’t be offended if I say that I am slightly (marginally) narrower.  This is the reason I have always sat in the narrower front cockpit. Today however, she was going to have to take one for the team….

We lugged the kayak down to the water where our 3 children were waiting for us. 

Gingerly I got into the boat.  She got in next and we gently paddled down to the starting ‘line’  Although this was a time trial, our goal was simply to get back into the swing of things.  So we were joining the children in the 2 mile time trial.  The man with the stop watch started counting down….

“30 seconds….15 seconds….10.9.8.7.6.5.4.3.2.1 go!”

With a wobble and a splash we dug our paddles into the water and were away.

Sort of.

Hannah doesn’t normally do the steering I do but because of our changed position she had control of the rudder.  The rudder is steered by the feet.  I was now in the back with no rudder but nobody had told my sub-conscience that.  I desperately kept trying to correct our course.  Hannah was having some…um…difficulty maintaining a straight line.  We were pinging about the canal from bank to bank like we were in a pinball machine.  The children were pulling ahead rapidly and in fact that was the last I saw of my two until they waved at me coming back the other way.  My youngest got the fastest time in the 2 mile trial. 

Only my nephew was wobbling along in our wake. 

Eventually she got the hang of it and I stopped trying to move my imaginary rudder and tried to follow her rhythm.  We were doing ok.  We wouldn’t be breaking out into a sweat or setting any course records but we were doing ok.  We made a move over to the right hand side of the canal to allow for passing traffic.  That’s when we noticed as we planted our paddles we were digging through a layer of ice to get to the water.  It was like paddling through a slush-puppy.  I loved it.  Then the snow started falling.  It was amazing.  What an experience.

The only drawback was that my poor tender hip was not taking to the cold. I was coping with the leg peddling motion, the actual kayaking action but the cold was making it ache a bit. I was basically sitting with my bum in a bucket of ice. There was just a thin layer of fibre glass between me and the slushy water.  Brrr.  And, for some reason, my left big toe was aching with the cold and despite my gloves, my fingers were burning. 

We ignored the discomfort and  we pootled along, enjoying ourselves, without much incident to the half way point.  There was a lot of traffic on this section of the canal because the first lake had frozen over and so the 6 miler people were have to do the 2 mile course repeatedly.  This made for some interesting manoeuvring in the k2 but Hannah was getting a little more confident although she complained that the rudder wires were sticking to her hips.  (Been there, done that!)

We had had to do quite a bit of pausing and waiting for my nephew along the way.  He was having a bit of difficulty with his craft.  Having gone up a size, he was not really ‘at one’ with his kayak.  Anyway every so often we would do the tricky manoeuvre of getting to the side to wait. He was always only about 5m -10m behind and within ear,shot and line of sight.    But then, about 2/3 of a mile from the finish line we rounded a slight bend and suddenly I couldn’t see him. 

Why is it that it is at those precise moment that things go wrong?

We stopped paddling and waited.  I shipped my paddle and turned and yelled, “REUBEN, where are you?” 

There was a little splash and a cry.

A stranger’s voice (it turned out to be a cyclist on the towpath) answered, “He’s in the water.”

Panic:  Maternal Panic and Aunty Panic.  He was chest deep in icy water.  We need to paddle about 3m to the bank and get out.  It was our best option.  He climbed out.  Meanwhile we got to the bank and I leapt out.  I assumed Hannah was hard on my heels.

I ran. 

Not a good idea on a dicky hip but who cared under the circumstances.  As I ran I stripped off my coat and fleece.  I knew that I had to get him out of his clothes and into dry ones a.s.a.p.  He was standing shivering on the bank.  Capsizing is always a possibility when kayaking which is why we have all had training on how to deal with it.  We’ve been kayaking together for ages and all through the summer without one incident.  The kids used to jump into the canal for a swim during our paddling session but I wouldn’t want to in winter.  It’s a bit chilly.  Although a lot of people choose to take part in open water swims on Boxing Day and New Year’s Day and in Finland the icy plunge is a way of life.  It’s not my idea of a good time though!

Back to Reuben.  He was shivering a bit but ok.  However his head was dry and in a warm woolly hat and his buff was dry around his neck.  I ripped off his top layers and put my fleece and coat on him.  Then I yanked off his bottoms which got stuck on his shoes (I hadn’t had the forethought to take those off) and pulled my water proof trousers of and got him into those.  He is a big boy, at only 10 years old, he is nearly as tall as me.  One of the club members pulled her kayak over and gave me her jacket for him.  Then another youngster from the club paddled up and handed me his spare thermal layer.  He also went and rescued Reuben’s kayak.  Ross who was passing, found the paddle as it floated away and rescued that.

I had calmed him down and got him in dry clothes in about 2 minutes flat but still my sister hadn’t reached us.  Where on earth was she?

She was having her own little drama whilst full of worry for her little boy. When I ran to get Reuben I assumed she was behind me but the reality was she was firmly wedged in the front cockpit of our craft!  She literally couldn’t get out.  She was biting onto the bank in an effort to lever herself from the boat.

Eventually she managed to get out (I bet with an audible ‘pop’) but only after 5 minutes of struggling.

She raced up to find her son dressed in a green thermal, a pink lady’s fleece, lady’s waterproof trousers and a lady’s jacket.  She didn’t bat an eyelid. 

He was rapidly recovering his equilibrium. but not enough to want to get back into his own boat.  We had to decide how to get him back.  I know that under normal circumstances you just right your kayak, get back in all wet and soggy and paddle like crazy to warm up but we hadn’t really been going fast enough for him to work up a sweat and warm up.

It was then that a club member came passed and rather unhelpfully pointed out that the Tor, which is the next size up boat Reuben had been trialling for the first time (and which my own son uses all the time) is a very wobbly boat.

Gee thanks….VERY helpful…not!

After a little discussion we decided to put him into the k2 with Hannah and I would paddle his boat back.  They popped off happily and he was paddling well and recovering rapidly.

My ordeal was not over. The Tor is a narrow little thing.  It’s a child’s kayak!!  Also if you even so much as have a stray thought pop into your head the wretched thing wobbles and bucks. I cannot understand my son’s affection for the model.  It’s entire ambition and raison d’etre is to dunk you.  I have never paddled so tentatively in my life.  I needed to go fast to make it more stable but at the same time I was more than a little worried I was going to end up in the water too and as I had given Reuben all my clothes that would have been problematic.  I prayed the whole way and when I got to the deep water of the reservoir I was frankly, terrified! 

Finally, with an audible sigh of relief, I paddled up to the finish line, an hour and a half after I started, in a different boat.  It was the slowest 2 miles I have ever done.  I could probably have crawled it faster.  I am not surprised Hannah, myself and Reuben got a DNF on the results table.  I really couldn’t get out of the kayak at the end.  My hip was protesting too much and I needed help.

Meanwhile, back at the boathouse Reuben went and spent about 15 minutes recuperating  in a hot shower  with a hot chocolate.  Hannah and I dealt with the boats. Reuben and Hannah joined us at  home for tea and toast.  I dashed upstairs to put the shower head on my frozen and abused hip and got dressed into two pairs of trousers and 3 layers on top.  I glanced out of the bedroom window… Reuben was fully restored and playing outside.  The resilience of the young!

I, on the other hand couldn’t get warm.  I put on my down jacket and a beanie and was still cold… All day…. Ross sent me to have a bath after several mugs of hot chocolate and sitting huddled in front of the fire didn’t work.  Even after the bath my bum cheeks were like ice cubes!

It was a somewhat traumatic return to kayaking.

Did it deter us though?

Of course not.

We’ll see you next week, bright and early at the boat house!

Please note:  Reuben was properly supervised and simply fell out of his kayak.  It is not any more dangerous to kayak in winter than it is in summer. Just a whole lot colder, which presents its own set of challenges,  Kayaking is a fun past-time but like with all sport there is some risk attached.  That is why we are all trained on what to do in a capsize situation.  We all capsize occasionally.  Reuben just did it spectacularly and with dramatic effect.  Neither was he the only person to capsize on Saturday!  Normally you capsize, empty your boat and get straight back in.  I took the additional precaution of changing his clothes because it was quite cold. Most people just get straight back in, soaking wet and paddle like mad to warm up.  He wasn’t endangered!  Please don’t freak out.  We are all looking forward to going again next week, even Reuben. 

Monday, 12 January 2015

Everything has gone SOUTH!


I have had getting on for 4 months of inactivity on the sporting front.

I have a valid excuse,  I have recently undergone a serious surgery on my hip. As a result of injury,  I had the femur head reshaped and the cartilage trimmed. (I know…gross!!)  The recovery process was interrupted by an excruciating bursitis on the hip which required a steroid injection.  In the midst of all this was the season of indulgence and vegetating in front of the television also known as the Christmas holidays.

I have been doing my physio (more or less) with a view to getting back to full fitness, I even tried the suggested exercise bike with mixed success (it doesn’t go fast enough for my tastes!!) But apparently, I have had a rougher recovery than most , according to the surgeon said.  His original prediction that I would be back on my bike in 3 weeks was way off.  When I’d told the physiotherapist this time-scale, he had laughed.)

At long last however, it was time to get back out there and tonight was the night.  This evening for the first time since the beginning of October I located the lycra at the back of the cupboard, dug it out and wriggled into it.

Oh my goodness - 4 months off and everything has gone SOUTH!!!

The HORROR!!

Why, oh why, did I not cover all the mirrors in the house and get dressed in the dark?

Jelly thighs, jelly tum and jelly bum in lycra does not a pretty picture make. It seems that as a women of a certain age, if I neglect, or am prevented from exercising for any length of time it has an adverse effect on my body.  The whole thing looked like a sad, old, jowly, frowny face, wobbly, sagging, bloated and miserable.  Oh dear, oh dear….what was I to do?   I certainly couldn’t back out having announced my intention to return to the Adventure Racing Monday night group, on Facebook.  “Come on woman are you an adventure racer or a mouse!!”  I chivvied myself

 It was dark outside so nobody would see my shame and if I left it much longer the damage may become permanent…. What if everything decided it liked where it was and wouldn’t relocate back to where it should be on my body!

Having undergone the trauma of imprisoning the wobbly bits in less-than- flattering lycra,  I wanged on a fleece and a raincoat.  I think I was in such shock at the pasty white wobbliness that I sort of lost track of everything for a bit. …  What else would I need….?... Oh yes that’s right,  trainers.  I hauled them out from underneath a heap of winter boots.  Good grief!  they were like something out of Miss Haversham house...cobwebbed over with ages of not being used and in a sorry state of neglect and misery. 

“Don’t worry my preciousnesses,  we will go out into the cold and wet….”  I reassured them, shoving my feet into them.  The joy of never undoing your laces – they were perfectly ready to go.

I unhooked my  head torch from under my onesie behind my bedroom door where it has hung lost and lonely for so long.  I slipped it onto my head.  It felt so alien…. Finally, I was ready. 

I trotted downstairs and out of the house where only a tiny group of stalwarts were waiting to brave the damp and the drizzle.  We split into 2 groups.  I went with Will, my son and erstwhile team mate from the Beast of Ballyhoura race last year.  He is going back to university this week so it was nice to go out with him.

I set my endomondo sports tracker to… wait for it…...’hike’ (well I had to start somewhere and running was out of the question at this stage.)  I pressed start and with no ceremony,  we were off plodding down the road towards the woods.  The great return to the world of adventure racing would be restricted to a sedate off-road walk. 

Two minutes in and I discovered I was glad I had a buff in my pocket, my ears were freezing.  I slipped my torch off, hung it over my shoulder and pulled my buff over my head.  Ears warming up, I repositioned my torch and switch it on. “Once more unto the breach dear friends...”  I was going into that final frontier the woods at night.  At least the torch was starting to feel more like it used to.

Wow, it was muddy and slippery.  I was struggling with my hip and to stabilise my core so was a bit wobbly on my pins. I looked like a 14 year old girl trying out high heels for the first time.  At least I was trying.  I think it was more of a stroll for Will as we certainly weren’t doing the cracking walking pace we had achieved last summer but I was back even if it was at slightly faster than snail’s pace.

It was then that I noticed the smell.  “Can you smell that,” I asked.

“What?”

“That miff smell.  Is that your coat?” I accused.

“No… I think it’s yours.” Will suggested.

It seems that three months in the back of the cupboard hadn’t done anything to improve my running  jacket’s aroma.  Great! so now I was wobbling like a jelly, tottering about like a drunk teenager and stinky. Fabulous!  That’s ok, at least it’s dark and the woods are pretty much empty.  There was silence for a bit as I negotiated the uneven ground. 

Finally, I piped up, “Did you bring water?”

“Err no.  I didn’t really think we’d need it for a short walk.”

“No, but I’m thirsty.”  I seem to have forgotten all the fundamentals of training during my time off.  I tried swallowing my spit and carried on striding alongside Will.  My confidence was growing on the flatter, if squelchy ground.

Wow, I was even working up a sweat.  Amazing!  A proper work out sweat, I hadn’t had one for months.  I could feel my face glowing and my heart rate was slightly faster than sitting in front of the television speed.  All good.  We had a nice chat and I carried on going.  I was feeling quite chipper, I definitely didn’t like the down hill slippery bits but I was ok.  I even got excited about passing the badger sets as we wandered along.  They had cleaned out their bedding.  Maybe I should follow their example and air out my coat…..nah!

It was when we got back to road that I began to feel a little discomfort in my hip.  Nothing I couldn’t handle but an awareness and a sense of relief that I was only 300m from home...

 So it seems that for now I have to be satisfied with 3 km at an average pace of 11.28 mins/km which is quite a lot slower than I am used to.  Mind you it is only the beginning and on the plus side, I am a reformed athlete…..  As soon as I got back I was stretching out just the way the physio taught me full of smug self-satisfaction and a hope in my heart that soon I would be kissing the wobbly bits goodbye and things would head back north on my body where they ought to be.

On that day the lycra will once again be flattering and not a thing of shame and torture….I am truly looking forward to that.