Shut Up and Paddle

Yesterday afternoon, I had a wee epiphany.  I needed more exercise, I thought.  It would cure what ails me.

The trouble is, I can't seem to find a gym that I like that has the equipment AND the vibe necessary to stimulate repeat visits.  I know that this is a total cop out but it's how my mind works.  I really loathe the idea of mandatory exercise and thus, I am able to manufacture very elaborate excuses as to why my big, fat, arse is, well, BIG & FAT!

Together, Dallas and I have done the cost/benefit analysis of owning our own treadmill.  On the plus side: convenience and privacy, which is enormously important when one considers the freak show that is my chest in motion.  On the negative side: cost, maintenance, where the hell would we put the damn thing and the fact that my husband is already fond of using most furniture as his own personal clothing rack.

So, what's a girl to do?

Yesterday, I was going through my closet and found a long sleeved shirt from the San Diego Outrigger Canoe Club circa 1995.  Before children, peri-menopause and absurd cup sizes, I'd casually paddled for an outrigger canoe club in San Diego.  I loved it.  It was great exercise and got me out on the water, which is my most favourite place on earth. I wasn't a natural, though, as my upper body strength was lacking.  Eventually, probably because of poor form, I developed bursitis in my right shoulder, which made distance races particularly demanding.  Around the same time, I met the father of my children and unfortunately, I retired my paddle.

Tonight, I will attend a training session, in the dark, in 11 degree Celsius temps with one of the clubs local to me.  It's the first time in 17 years that I'll have a paddle back in my hands.

I'm all atingle with excitement.....and naked fear.

Keep you posted.

Hana ka hoe, pa'a ka waha
(Hawai'ian, not Maori but close cousins)