Whales are VERY Large

Two weeks ago, not unusually, i sat on my couch, looking out over the shimmering ocean. One whale spout, then another sprang from the water in the distance and, after seeing them a few times in the same place, i decided to take action. I wrestled my board from its shady resting place and loaded it into my car, grabbed my GoPro, said goodbye to my dog (who maybe raised an eyebrow at the most) and raced down to the beach.

 Once there, an unsuspecting young lifeguard boy was asked to put your hard earned tax dollars to work by running my board down to the water. I pulled on my wetsuit in the car and left my chair behind, as i scooted across the warm sand to the water's edge where the nice lifeguard boy had placed my board. I jumped in and was off, pessimistic that i would find what i was looking for because i had done this before and had been skunked every time.

The lagoon mouth flowed out to sea like a river and shoved me right into the pounding shore break, breaking heavily on the bare low tide sand bar. The first wave struck me hard and sent me rolling. Not a good way to start this expedition, but thankfully, the video camera was locked in a death grip in my mouth and did not experience the same fate as my poor drowning sunglasses, lost forever.

Once i regained myself, i paddled out quickly and began the long trek out into the ocean where i hoped to maybe get lucky. After an hour or so of paddling, i saw what i thought at first to be a huge sail through the haze, but it disappeared and, a couple minutes later, i saw it again. My initial thought was that the military was out there doing something weird.

 "Wait a second! Is that...," peering through the haze, "...Is that a whale spout? OH MY GOD! IT IS!"

 My paddling quickened.  I felt like a child on Christmas morning, overwhelmed with excitement. The plumes were so far away, i thought i could never reach them.

"Maybe if i can just get kind of close."

I got closer. I could actually hear them!  The plumes got bigger. The sounds became louder. The land grew smaller. Then, i saw them! A plume and a splash, then a dorsal fin.

"Oh my God! Is this actually happening???" 

As i got closer, my fear grew stronger. My hands began to tremble.

 "I'm all alone out here, who knows how far out, and buses are swimming around me."

They were obviously feeding or something because they weren't going anywhere north or south. They were staying in the same area, right off of Swami's in Encinitas, two Humpbacks about two miles out or so.

I thought, "If they're feeding, maybe they come up to get a mouth full of shrimp, not paying attention, and i'm right here. One whip of a tale or something and i'm a goner."

One whale stuck its head out of the water to check me out, leveled out and swam right at me. Here's the video:

What an incredible experience! One i've dreamt about for a long time now. I spent about an hour with them and, even though i was scared, felt sad when i realized the sun was getting low and i needed to start paddling toward shore. As i paddled, i could hear them behind me and the sounds of their thundering breaths seemed to get closer.  I'd like to think they followed me a little bit.

"Til next time, my friends!" It was a beautiful sunset and i cried. 

 

If you're curious about my board, here's also a video about its making. It has enabled me to surf and to go on paddle adventurers like these. Please support Jay and Jeff at Ironcross Surfboards. They are good people. Happy Halloween! 

 

June Lake Tri

Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars. -Kalil Gibran

Gettin bike ready

Impatience vibrated through my body, "C'mon man! How much longer are you gonna be?" The fifteen minutes i had been waiting for the one wheelchair accessible outhouse seemed to bore into my brain with an ice cream scooper.

The race announcer, "Olympic distance men, four minutes till start!" and the wish that i could pee anywhere else, or even in the water, crept up my throat. It hurt. I looked at the bathroom, across sand and rock, with a step leading in, and figured it would just be faster to wait this out, unknowing how long this guy would actually take. I thought about going in the bushes, but too many people and children whirled around in every direction. I could skip it, but my bladder was full and swimming with it that way would not be good. So, i sat and watched, powerless, as racers came and went out of the other outhouses. Some even sitting empty for spans of minutes at a time. Frustration.

FINALLY, the man emerged from the outhouse. I wasn't angry, just stressed and bummed. He apologized and i accepted. There was no time to dwell on it. I had to hurry.

Backstroke to catch my breath

In retrospect, i wish i would have done my research and figured out ahead of time where the start was and where i needed to be, but now, after the outhouse debacle, my friends carried me across the sandy beach and we could not figure out where to set me down. I thought about the pain surging through their arms as we scuttled about asking volunteers for directions. We found the group of racers at the water's edge and figured this must be it. A volunteer with a go-t and walkie talkie nodded that we were in the right place. Phew!

"Racers, TWO minutes till start!"

I had two minutes to put myself all together: specialized custom suit i use for swimming, cap, goggles, etc. Profanities echoed in my brain. Then, in an instant, all the racers that surrounded us switched to a different spot down the beach. NO! I should have had my friends just pick me up like a fish (my suit keeps my legs straight and rigid for planing on the surface while swimming) and follow everyone, but i decided it would be easier to just swim over and rolled into the water. One stroke, two strokes. "Its too shallow!"

The start horn blasted and all the racers disappeared. I was alone, arduously crawling through the 50 yards between me and the start. Standing up and running over not an option. More frustration.

Good friends

Once in deep enough water, i realized i failed to pass through the start buoys where my timing chip would register. This time, one of the profanities in my head escaped and i dropped an F bomb. I had to swim back to the buoys in order to get timed, so i reluctantly turned around. Once there, i stopped to catch my breath and caught a glance of the shore. The crowd looked on in bewilderment. Everyone wondering what the heck i was doing. And then i saw it. The timing platform sat about 30 yards away on the shore's edge. NO! There was no way i was going to get timed and i wanted to give up. Defeat sank in and it was all i could do to not cry right there. NOW, anger at the guy in outhouse began to swell up inside me.

Right there, interstingly enough, i was faced with the opportunity to practice what i preached the night before at the pre-race dinner where i was the guest speaker and told an emotional story about suffering.

You see, its not about seeing the glass as half full, its about understadning that being broken is where your life begins. When you are at the end of your rope, with nothing to give, close to giving up. That is the dark place you must go through in order to become the person you want to be. Dive into your suffering. Feel it. Live it. Embrace it. The hill you must surmount makes the finish that much sweeter.

I swam on and the frustration gradually subsided. I actually passed twenty people or so even though i started late. "At least i'm not last," i reassured myself.

Transition

When i finished, my friends grabbed me and ran me up the beach through the cloud of cheers. Once next to my bike, i slathered on sunblock and doned my helmet, glasses and gloves. I jumped in and started cranking, but quickly realised the gears were not working correctly. I would have to ride the race without the top nine and have to manually shift the crank set with my hand. More frustration.

About two miles into the ride, while wrestling with the emotion of everything going wrong, after everyone i had passed in the water had now passed me on the road (i knew i was actually last because the motorcyle sweeper followed right behind me), something occured to me that made two huge salty tears roll down my face and everything changed. "I'm not here for myself." My struggle, that day and every day of my life, inspires others and being honest with my weakness is true strength.

Just starting on the bike

I rode on, feeling born again in this new realization and at Mile 16, when my right rear tire blew, i sat in the dirt and repaired it in delight. Then, when it blew again and i was out of innertubes, i laughed and got a ride back to the transition area. The beer on the beautiful white sand, surrounded by crystal clear turquoise water and old mountains, tasted refreshing and i simply enjoyed myself, cheering the finishers.

Your struggle is not about you. Share your weakness and inspire your world.

Photos by Minaret Photography

Your Brain Doesn't Forget

I don't remember it, but i'm sure my parents do very well. My first steps, awkward and wobbly, a sharply edged coffee table serving as support. Spacial and physical awareness along with innately ingrained balance and instinct teaching me everything i need to know. My parents are just cheerleaders, looking on with pride and there to pick up the pieces if necessary. What a cool feeling that must be, as a parent, witnessing your child's instinct drive them forward completely on their own.

Today, the room is filled with people...marketing people, photographers, the quiet guy holding the light bounce for the photographer, therapists, the guys teaching the therapists, people peeking through the window in the door...and me. All of them, i'm sure, looking on with a heavy sense of pride, and here i am, walking for the first time in eleven and a half years, in a robotic exoskeleton, and i'm feeling like i'm letting everyone down. I want to impress everyone so badly that it consumes me. Not to mention all the other emotions coming along with the fact that i am actually freaking walking right now! My mind is fielding things like being at eye level with everyone, looking down at my legs moving, looking in the mirror, self conscious about how tiny my legs are. Literally, my head is swirling with emotions.

My brain and the muscle memory of walking naturally are taking over and messing me up. Your brain doesn't forget. I want to let my momentum carry me into each step instinctively like normal, instead of waiting for the robot to engage. I'm leaning too far forward, wanting to go faster. I want to run. I envision it, but it doesn't go the way my brain wants to. I actually try to put my foot down where i want it, compensate aggressively for the movement the robot does in actuality and almost take a fall. "OK lets regroup," the guy teaching everyone is nervous for my safety. Walking in a robot is super cool, but physically not the same motion. Its a different muscle memory and when i mess up everyone seems to be frustrated that i'm not doing as well as they hoped. So i feel like a failure. When they let me go at my own speed, i seem to do better and i voice this. Instantly, the sinking feeling that they disagree consumes me. Do they think i'm just prideful and i'm blaming it on them? Totally off because i'm sure they totally think i'm great, but i automatically jump to the assumption that they are thinking something negative about me. I do this with everyone, all the time, and this time is no different. Every blog i write, every tweet, every post, every speaking gig, every sentence i utter, i need to trust myself all over again. When i do this without reserve, my quality of life has a knack of improving. Hm...life lesson?

Then i realize, i'm not the student here! This whole day is not about me. Its about the therapists. They are the ones being taught here and i am just a guinea pig, a subject of study. If i walked in this thing perfectly and already knew everything, then the therapists would have nothing to study and i'd be useless. In order to be presented with the opportunity to assess, they need something to assess. They need to study all types of students, learning tendencies, awkward circumstances, near falls, etc. The fact that i just want to go, am moving too fast and am not afraid of falling, is the curve ball that puts them in the situation where they need to accommodate for those tendencies and adjust their teaching methods accordingly. My faults put them in the situation to learn. My flaws make me perfect. The brain never forgets those either, its all a matter of reprogramming...but that's a whole other coffee talk, isn't it?