Catalina Crossing 2014

Signing up for a big or challenging race always brings a flurry of excitement. There's the anticipation of the event, mapping out a training schedule, making travel plans, coercing friends to join you, planning your race day, researching the local breweries, packing the perfect apres race outfit, feeling strong and confident as the months go by, then tired and unsure, then strong-ish and hopeful again and then right before race day, anxious, all sorts of anxious.

Almost without fail - whether running, triathlon or outrigger - the same thought comes back each time: I can't believe it's already here.

And so this all too familiar scene played out as the weekend of the Catalina Crossing approached earlier this month, the US Outrigger Championships in Newport Beach. With my team uncommitted to race, I was asked to join a Tamalpais crew from across the Bay in Sausalito with people I liked and had raced against many times. They were competing Sunday in the Masters Coed Division and needed a 9th. I'd raced Sunday the last 2 years and no doubt my current status as part of the 2013 reigning championship crew of the Masters Coed division carried some clout. Or not. Did they even know? They painted a picture of a long, languid, massage and wine-filled weekend on Catalina Island leading up to our Sunday start. How could I refuse?

Getting into canoe - photo courtesy of Cody Silvester

In canoe - photo courtesy of Cody Silvester

Then I got a text from another club in Alameda almost 3 weeks later - one made up of a half dozen ex-SF paddlers that I'd known since I first started. They were down a girl and they were racing on Saturday in the Open Coed Division. It was my chance to do the crossing on both days - Newport to Catalina and then Catalina back to Newport Beach. I'd talked about the idea but it was never possible when racing with my own team. But now I was a free agent - all Eric Decker-like before the Jets signed him. I stalled for about a week, checked with the Tam team, worked myself up with worst case scenarios and then finally bit the bullet and committed. I was going both ways.

So I got down to business and upped my paddling practice, added hand paddles to my swim workouts, hit the gym for upper body work, worked harder at everything and felt indomitable. I was strong, I was invincible, I was woman - (thank you, Helen Reddy) - with a big, broad back.

Less back, less green.

And then I started to wonder about the what-ifs. What if I got inadvertently injured Saturday? What if I couldn't get myself up into the boat? What if I was so spent I had only 50% to give on Sunday? I worried most about letting my crews down - they both wanted to be competitive and they both wanted to win. I got a canker sore - first one, then two - the impact of my self-induced anxiety imploding around me. And then I felt a twinge in my shoulder on a Saturday practice 2 weeks out so I stopped paddling altogether. I skipped SUPping on my new board, stopped swimming, and pretty much stayed on dry land. I Googled sports psychology in search of any quick fixes to right my head but it was what I expected - visualize, breath, blah, blah, BLAH. 

Then of course, reality came back into focus as I was packing the week before and I was excited again and pretty much ready for whatever came at me. Until it was race morning Saturday with the Alameda crew and my turn to jump in the water to make the first water change into the canoe. I was dry-mouthed, silent, pensive. I asked my friend to tell me I could do it and she hugged me and said I could. 3, 2, 1...I was in the water, the canoe was coming in fast, I grabbed the sides of the boat by my seat, hauled myself up and while I dragged my legs for more than a few seconds in the water I did eventually get my ass in there and voila - I was on the boat. Game on.

After that most of my changes weren't pretty, a few were passable, but I got in there each time a little bit faster. It was a super competitive race for most of the journey with no room for anything less than 100% as we battled with 2 other boats trading places back and forth. We hit gold with a strong crew change about 8 miles from the finish that set us up to pull ahead without any contention. Like that, we were gone and headed for the finish. They pulled me out and I kicked back on the chase boat, content to watch with a beer and the rest of my teammates as the other 6 paddled across the finish. 4 1/2 hours. Champions.

Okalani canoe club - photo courtesy of Cody Silvester

My Tam teammates were there to congratulate us at the finish - all smiles and support, no concern for whatever i'd have - or not have - for Sunday. I was halfway through and elation (and exhaustion) had replaced anxiety. I wandered around Catalina with the Alameda crew, drinking beer, snapping pics, getting our awards and prizes. My back was sore and my forearms were tender but a handful of ibuprofen and some stretching felt a little better. I supped with my Tam team and struggled through a restless night's sleep and just like that it was time to race again. 

But this time the canoe was lower and the competition less fierce. It was a warm morning and I was excited to get back in the water. We jumped out to a massive lead right off the start and never saw another boat until the finish - some 20 minutes after us. That cushion gave me the small boost I needed to know that nothing I could do was going to negatively impact the team. I paddled strong, hit the changes, laughed, smiled - I could've stayed in through the finish if they needed me but I got pulled at the last change and was content to ride in on the chase boat and meet the team at the finish line. 

Tamalpais Outrigger Canoe Club - photo courtesy of Cody Silvester

As we pulled up to the after-party to unload the boat, I saw my Alameda crew from Saturday, there to congratulate us, share a picnic space and celebrate into the evening until it was time to go home. Finish line beer never tasted so good. I'd achieved something I'd often thought would be "fun" to do without really thinking there'd be the opportunity to ever do it. I'd benefited from 2 incredibly strong, deep, competitive crews who liked me enough to invite me and thought enough of me not to screw up their chances. I'd freaked myself out into a near frenzy with worry that I'd let people down who were counting on me. So while I prepared as best I could, luck had a hand in how my weekend played out - accomplishment, victory, health, happiness, warm waters, friends, sun, and bragging rights that I kept mostly to myself behind a huge, loopy grin.

Thank you outrigger for all that you've given me.