::March on::
Monday, March 5, 2012 
Well spring training camp has been ticking along nicely. Plenty of high quality kilometers have passed under my butt. My legs and torso and shoulders and back and arms have been getting stronger and more resilient to this kind of abuse, my paddle is starting to feel like the familiar tool I remember from 2011, my boat is reacting more swiftly to every strong stroke I execute, and every stroke seems to be just a little better than the one I took just a moment prior. I haven't been worrying myself with times and speeds and specifics. My focus has been very simple: perfect paddling, lots of it. I don't worry as much about my work in the gym now that I'm a 1000m-only paddler. At least I'm not as concerned with pushing huge weights around anymore, not that the weights I ever pushed were terribly huge by any stretch of the imagination. This is all to say that I am satisfied where my strength is currently at. I am starting to run more, and I'm excited about that.
I needed a refresher this weekend. I felt that I should hit the road with my kayak on the roof of my car and paddle somewhere else for a change. And there was a comic in Miami that I really wanted to see. His name was, and continues to be, Rob Delaney. On Friday, after a good morning session on the water and tough gym workout I threw my boat on the roof of my Mazda and hit the I-95 for a road trip. The drive was quick, I went straight to Miami Beach Rowing Club. My boat and I were engaged in a kind of amazing-race style 24hr adventure. Dodging the stares of some running-shoe-clad high school rowing champions I borrowed the MBRC dock for a split second, pushed off in any direction and punished their waterways for an hour. I thrashed on it's salty hide with everything I had for 60 minutes. It fought back with waves and surface tension. I pushed my boat through the Miami intercostals for 30minutes, close to 7kms in any direction, the sun dropped below the horizon with an equatorial haste, I turned my skinny craft 180 degrees, and retraced my strokes in the dark. The waters provided me with what I required, and I took very little in return. I found myself back at the MBRC dock, I used their hose to wash the salt from my boat, paddle, hair and body, dried off and changed in the parking lot beside my car. I mounted the boat, and drove directly to the Fillmore Theatre to catch the show.
Rob was very funny, he's filthy, foul-mouthed, human and kind. His conscience and compassion somehow pervade his perversion. I left the show and got some really good Mexican food. I checked into a fine Hotel that my sponsor, Roots, was generous enough to book for me. The Soho Beach House proved to be a fine host, with a very comfortable bed. There are few things in life that I appreciate more than a really good hotel breakfast. The Soho knocked it out of the park. Once I was full of fruit, coffee and croissant I grabbed my car and hit up the MBRC, once again in renegade style. I get some strange satisfaction from entering a moderately familiar city, using their facilities as if they were my own, pummelling their water into submission and leaving without anyone really noticing. It's like espionage-exercise, I feel like an international agent athlete. Back on the water I felt a small sense of renewal. I had some tough work to do in the hot morning Miami sun. I welcomed every hard-gripping stroke with the same curious novelty I paid the refreshing, but deteriorating art-deco landscape before me. Sometimes, a change is as good as a break.
Adios South Beach... windows down and Rock n Roll loud, I drove north for 3hrs to Melbourne, my southern home every spring since 1997. I'm mentally and physically prepared for another few weeks of work here. I just hope the water can handle it.
Reader Comments (3)
That sounded like a great 24 hrs....way to mix it up.
All the best during the rest of your spring prep!
Jason