I Think I've Sustained a Thinking Injury

I'm sick and tired of some of this meaningful crap I've been writing. Habitual over-thinking has led to injury...I've sprained my brain and must now rest it until I'm able to use it effectively once again.

I don't feel funny either. I've been nurturing my inner curmudgeon, something that goes best with solitary activities.

It's a male brooding thing I suppose but that's why there are things like fishin'. It's at times like these that Superman would fly up to his Fortress of Solitude, Batman would spend time in the Bat Cave and Daniel Boone would step out back and go huntin' with his loyal injun friend, Mingo.

Those guys were all boring and sulky though. There's no reason why this call of the wild can't be answered with something playful and uplifting. It's been high time to dust off the paddleboard. The water's been warm for months.

For the unfamiliar, paddleboards are these long ( 12-20' ), sleek epoxy and foam boards for paddling in the ocean, either kneeling or lying face down. The design is less like a surfboard and owes more to the needle-like sculls now seen racing in the Olympics. There are no paddles (you use your hands) and there's only room for one person. They are a little wobbly but eventually it tones the stabilizing muscles of the abdomen, just what the doctor ordered for back problems.

Several years ago I went to Bali and caught some waves in the 14'-20' range but the largest ones put me in my place. They moved so fast across the reef that I could barely paddle fast enough to drop in...a wakeup call. Surfing was getting harder for the first time in my life.

Not being one to go down without a fight I came up with a strategy, returning home, purchasing a 14' paddleboard, starting to train, and getting my miles up week after week until I went 18-20 miles at a time, just 13 miles short of the race distance for the Catalina Classic between Catalina Island and Manhattan Beach.

Anyone who has done distance training of any kind knows about "the wall." It is not to be taken lightly. A lot of it involves just doing the race distance in training. The body quickly adapts to storing sufficient glucose in the muscles to last the longest distance experienced in training but if you increase the distance too much at a time you WILL hit the wall, which is pointless because you just grind to a crawl and receive no further training benefit. The wall is quite simply needless pain, as opposed to the good pain which YOU control, and smart people learn to avoid it.

So there are all these dudes who think they are going to do the Catalina so in March they buy a nice shiny new paddleboard and log a longest paddle of 12 miles then sign up for the big race. These are the ones who climb in the boat at the halfway point, emasculated. They knew not what they were getting into. If the water is cold and they manage to limp across the finish line they usually end up with hypothermia, wrapped up in blankets and taken to the hospital for fluids by IV.

To them the Catalina is like a visit to the buffet where they help themselves to way, way more than they can eat. These are the boys in contrast to the men who've paid the price during training. Isn't it a basic law of physics that you can't get something for nothing? That you can't fool mother nature? What on earth possesses them to fancy doing otherwise?

So I knew better. 18 miles was not enough and it would have been foolish to have tried. Time and schedule just didn't let me train distance approaching the race distance. The long paddles take ALL DAY! 6-8 hours and afterwards you are not good for anything except moaning in pain on the couch and licking your wounds. Most participants work and live at the beach. That way no time is lost going to and from. Some lifeguard and former college swimmer usually wins.

There were side-benefits for me other than the red badge of courage one gets for finishing the Catalina. At 42 the 20 year olds could no longer outpaddle me surfing and the wave count went up....lost a lot of weight and felt Tony-the-Tiger Grrrreeeeaaaatttt too!

Training consisted of getting up before dark on 2-3 weekdays per week and once weekend day (for the long paddle) then getting into the water a few minutes before sunrise. I remember those paddles from when I trained regularly just like it was yesterday...

Palos Verdes is a big hill that rises from the ocean south of LA. The lights off the beach in Redondo and 50 yards along "the hill" to the south twinkle as I paddle out to sea.

Passing PV Cove there is a big rock inhabited by seals barking their typical greeting of arf-arf as I pass. I arf back out of respect. The fishing boats are just starting to head out to sea from Kings Harbor.

Eventually the beach becomes a far distant little strip of sand and the westernmost tip of PV becomes a tiny dot on the eastern horizon when you look back towards shore.

The destination is the R-10 buoy, 5 miles off the coast. When there is any hint of fog or a marine layer the board-mounted GPS in a clear waterproof bag is essential because 1/2 mile off PV land can no longer be seen, much less a visual sighting of the R-10 buoy. I've gone back to shore when visibility is less than 50 yards because you hear these big boats and can't see them until they're right on top of you.

Without the fog it is easy enough to paddle towards the rising sun to get back in. The R-10 buoy can also be found by taking an approximate angle from the western tip of PV. After 1 3/4 miles it is time to start looking around for it.

Cadence is everything and a music collection with 45-60bpm really helps. MP3 player's in an Aquapac bag with waterproof earphones. Steve Vai's My Guitar Wants to Kill Your Momma is inspirational with a driving beat that wails in time with each stroke. Some mornings I feel like I could paddle to Hawaii but I usually settled for 10 miles to avoid being late for work.

A variety of sealife keeps me company. The steamy exhaust from a dolphins blowhole grabs my attention. They're swimming along side me, the entire family with a brand new addition about 3 feet long. They always breach high enough to get the near eye out of the water to take a look at the curious pink land dweller. I feel a closeness to them.

30-40 minutes after the lights of PV can no longer be seen I start looking for the R-10 buoy. It is inhabited by another group of seals. On afternoon weekend paddles I catch a whiff as I loop around the buoy. In the heat of the day the seals climb back on to eat the fish they catch. Seal piss and fish guts baking in the noonday sun have a distinctive aroma and at some point I am directly downwind for about one tortured minute.

The return leg back to shore goes much faster with each swell lifting me and providing a little downhill boost as it moves eastward, slightly faster than I can paddle. it's like an unseen hand lifts the tail and gives me a little push so that I slide downhill a little faster.

Then it's back to land, a quick shower on the beach and in to work by 9, having done more before coffee than most do all day. On those days the calm from the morning lasts until bedtime...an early one.

I used to work near Newport Beach in OC so early in the season in February-March before the water starts warming from the 58 degree winter average I'd keep the board at the Newport Aquatic Center in the upper back bay of Newport Harbor. The water temp in the harbor is a little higher and there are no swells that can splash you with cold water.

It's about 3 miles from the center to the harbor entrance near the famous "Wedge" this jetty that is a freak of nature. Swells get squeezed in between land and rock and jump up to 20' and break in 2-3' of water. It is a bodysurfing spot and many have broken necks there. There is a long learning curve that I never cared to take the time to advance through. I know my limitations and just watch. You have to live there to get enough practice time to advance.

I've seen a couple of whales in the harbor entrance. One almost surfaced beneath me. That moment was shared with a kayaker who lingered for 10 minutes while we chattered away, as the joyous rush of what we'd just witnessed subsided.

Once through the harbor and 2 piers north is Newport Pier. That's 9 miles from the center. I always wanted to go farther but there was not enough time before work to do so, even if I left shortly before sunrise.

Sometimes I'd be driving home about 5 or 6 and just get the urge to do an evening paddle. The upper back bar is a tidal marsh not too far off the 5 Freeway but you'd never know it. It's so expansive that you're far enough from roads to hear no sounds save those from nature. The occasional jet straying from the John Wayne airport flight path sometimes pieces the tranquil silence. Schools of fish and rays breed in the warmer water of the marsh and can be seen by the hundreds. Water birds wade near the shoreline.

I can hardly count the number of times I paddled back to the center in the dark after watching the sunset from the back bay.

The hot shower never felt better on skin that had chilled to around 64 degrees. After 10 minutes the bones start to warm too. Sleep always comes easy on those nights and I inevitably feel stronger the next day.