Paddleboard Racing

Initial caveat: I have to remind that I think there is a line when considering amateur, pseudo-competitive sport.  It's not unlike the line between being environmentally conscious and going full-Guardian.  Essentially context needs to be maintained at all times.  You are not a professional athlete because you participate in a race on a weekend.  It's a bit of exercise.   A bit of fun.  There is a line at which you may teeter, especially at that midlife crisis sort of age, where you throw money and obsession at the thing in the hope that it somehow redefines you into something more than you are (when you are in fact already fine).  If you manage to win a race, you were the fastest person who chose to turn up on that day.  That might be smashing, but it's ultimately of little consequence.

No one can contest that being in the atmosphere of an event spurs you on, but the danger of superciliousness exposure is very, very real. 

I was reminded of this line when I participated in the Great Big Paddle Parade last year.  I was waiting on the beach and someone wandered over with the same paddleboard as me.  Conversation obviously ensued.    "You should go to a race event.  They are so good.  The community is so inclusive and welcoming.  It's such an amazing day out.  Oh - you have the original fin on your board?!  Haha you need to swap that."  That condescending flourish by someone who certainly did not look to be a professional athlete, was enough to convince me not to enter a paddleboard race for almost a full year.

But then the mountain came to Mohammed.

AquaPaddle is a charity that is building a community akin to ParkRun, but for paddleboarding.  Staffed by enthusiastic volunteers, it fizzes with that excitement of a venture trying to get off the ground.  Much like ParkRun (which I've started doing with the kids) it doesn't have an overbearing mentality, prioritising fun and just getting out on the water.

It was happening two days after the 25km paddle I'd finally checked off my bucket list and I found myself registering in a mist of hubris.  So I found myself floating on an imaginary starting line...

It was a there-and-back race of a 2.5km stretch of the Thames.  From the off I found myself in second place and was shocked and embarrassed to be there.  Was this right?  Did I do this correctly?   Is everyone behind me thinking "look at that idiot, too fast from the off"?   I held my pace, tried to settle into a rhythm and began taking notes of what was around me.  

First thing of note: the woman in front of me was absolutely flying.  Paddle strokes looked effortless.  I also noted the Black Project racing paddle and the Starboard board that was an inch narrower than mine.   Labelling her as "into this" I resigned myself to second place - but with my inner greyhound still willing me on to chase the rabbit.  But my energy was waning and I drifted back into third before half way.   Really nice chap.    Between (my) groans and wheezes, we actually had a very nice chat.  When the race leader performed a step-back-turn at the turning point, I was fairly resigned to being ever-so-slightly out of my league here, but after my pathetic heavy turn, I felt the flow of the river and it gave me some kind of psychological boost from somewhere.  Maybe in my stupor I thought it was only flowing for me?  Not clear.   Anyway I picked up the pace, and even began reading/chanting the tagline on my paddleboard that is written across the nose:

Constant forward motion

Constant forward motion

Constant nnnng forward whelp motion!

Back in second position (somehow) I could hear paddles approaching from behind.  My legs were trembling like a pooping dog, arms burning and lower back screaming.  And done.  Second.  

As soon as the results were posted I sought to quickly downgrade my standing.  I found other races and quickly set my performance into context.  Second - because all these much faster people did not turn up.  Much happier with that.

My grandmother famously only swung a golf club once in her life and got a hole in one.  Having followed tradition and bought everyone in the golf club a drink in honour of the achievement, she said golf was too expensive and never did it again.  Should I follow this pattern?