A brief anecdote from the Dad Center race yesterday. As you know, Bob, it was a 25 mile race around the bottom half of the island of Oahu. 6 - seat canoe, ten paddlers on our crew. We had an escort boat with Boat Guy (owner), who is a very experienced waterman, and our coach, who is a lifeguard (that's a big deal here) and also a high ranking competitive kayaking and paddling solo racer as well as team races. A really nice guy. Very experienced on the water.
Anyway, the escort boat follows the canoe. Four paddlers rest out in the Zodiac, which is basically an ocean-worthy rubber raft with motor, about 14-16 feet long. No awning (yes, my neck for pinked AGAIN, argh), but relatively easy to get in and out of the water because you're right down against the water because it is a big rubber raft. (With one exception, all of the other 50 crews were using regular boats.)
When it is time for a change, the escort boat zips around in front of the canoe. 2 or 3 paddlers jump into the ocean and float there while the canoe approaches them, and the change is made. The people who came out of the canoe float and wait for the escort boat to come over and pick them up.
So there I was, resting in the escort boat, sitting not on the big inflatable side but right down on the (floor?). The other resting paddlers were either on the floor like me or over on the other side. When . . .
Coach, standing on the left just a bit in front of Boat Guy at the engine, suddenly looks down and left and tracks something that is in the water. Boat Guy sees it, too, and they both turn and watch it pass alongside the Zodiac and away.
We all notice their movement, although none of us were placed to see onto that side of the boat.
Paddler (not me): WHAT WAS THAT?
Them: (smiling)
Paddler (not me): WAS THAT A SHARK?
Them: (showing no concern and kind of shrugging): Well, you know, it's the ocean.
They watched a moment more to make sure, I guess, that it didn't circle back around to follow the canoe (which was at this point somewhat ahead of us), but it was doing what sharks do, cruising around for no particular reason and not bothering anyone.
Oddly, after that, I was almost less anxious when getting into and out of the ocean.
Oh, here's
a link to the Advertiser story on the race. We came in 40th out of 50, which is better than we expected, so a good day! (our crew was half women in their 40s and half women in their 50s)
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I wanted to link to
this really excellent post on disability, mortality, and accommodations by Blake Charlton (his first novel, Spellwright, is coming out in February 2010.
I was a poor student until sometime in high school when spelling became immaterial to writing and calculation unnecessary for mathematics. Then suddenly, almost magically, I was promoted from remedial classes to advanced ones. I became dependent on academic success to maintain a sense of self and dependent on the special accommodations that made such success possible. That is why when accommodations were denied for the medical licensing exam, my crisis was not purely one of practicality but one of identity. If the academic powers that be did not believe I was disabled, and I had spent most of my childhood and much of my adult life struggling with disability, who exactly was I?Blake is also a totally awesome dude. When he comes out to visit Hawaii, I'm going to make him paddle from Hale'iwa to Waimea and back and see how he holds up (only 8 miles!)