The Big Paddleboard Race

Hennessey's Paddleboard race is titled the U.S. Paddleboard championship, and there were plenty of people in attendance that looked like they seriously wanted to try and win the race. Australians, Lifeguards, and other experienced watermen. I, however, was really just wanting to finish the 12.9 mile race without having to get dragged from the water by one of the lifeguard boats.

Keep in mind, I estimated that I've never really paddled more than 6 miles, probably less. But I felt like I had a couple of good paddles in the past couple of weeks, so I'd give it a try. The biggest problem I thought I would have was trying to figure out how to bring enough water on the paddleboard with me. Most people had water bottle holders built into their paddleboards, but since mine is an older paddleboard it doesn't have this feature. I originally tried to superglue a water bottle on, but it wasn't sticking. Then I tried to glue an industrial velcro strip on that would hold a water bladder or water bottle onto the paddleboard. I woke up in the morning thinking this would work (actually, I stayed up half the night worrying about this) and got up to try and attach the camelbak to it. It wasn't even close to looking like it was going to work, I turned the board on it's side slightly and the camelback just came tumbling off. So, plan C...I threw on one of my bike jerseys and stuck two water bottles into my jersey. Oh, and I slipped a couple of gels into the pocket of my board shorts.

Lisa came down with me to the race, and when we got there I saw that basically everyone else looked way more experienced than me. Bottles secured to the board, gps units, sport drinks, etc.

So they get us out there, and the race began. My strategy was to paddle at my speed, regardless of what everyone else did. My goal was to rotate between paddling on my stomach, and paddling from my knees. My strategy was thrown off by the choppy water that we started in, and also by the fact that the entire field took off in front of me. There was a couple of people behind me, but other than that I knew I was hanging onto last place after the first 1/2 mile. Not good. The crazy thing was that the group kept angling further and further away from the shore, so I kept following them, but I really had no idea where I was going. Once we got south past the breakwall, the water got really gross-I'm talking an oil slick across the water where we were paddling. I stuck to my stomach for fear that I would fall off if I got to my knees and take an unfortunate drink of this oily water

By now I was well behind the group, and could only see a few people immediately ahead of me. One lady, who was; how should we say? not in shape; was ahead of me. My goal was just to catch up with her. I finally started seeing people coming back from around the bouy, which meant I must be getting close. It was depressing to watch these people coming by me the other way. They were absolutely flying, and giving me a front row view of how graceful a good paddleboarder looks when they're doing it right.

I turned at the buoy, and felt good enough to tell myself that I was going to make it back without getting pulled from the water. It's funny, because being out there by myself, I felt myself going through a continual self-evaluation: "my shoulders feel good, but my neck is killing me" and "I'm not too thirsty, but I'm sure I'm fairly dehydrated right now. God I'd like to have a drink. But I can't-if I sit up to get my water bottle I'll fall hopelessly behind." And so on, and so on.

By now, I was kind of losing my mind and started talking to myself incessantly, out loud and I didn't care if the lifeguard boats could here me (yes, the lifeguard boats were right behind me the whole time. A case of them "cleaning up" the course after the last person went by.) At first I was talking to the wildlife. "Hello Mr. Pelican, please don't shit on me" were the first type of comments I made. I also did my best to coach my way through the remainder of the race "don't get greedy, Mitch. Just get 16 strokes at a time. 16 on your knees, then 16 on your stomach." By this constant self-chatter I actually started to get in a groove. The water got smooth and I actually started to close the distance on the people in front of me. These brief moments are what I really enjoy about paddling. You can get lost when you can get the board in this rhythm, and for a while I got lost in it. The lifeguard boat pulled up to me to chat and see how I was doing (they probably heard me talking and wondered what the hell was going on) so I had a chance to chat with them for a while and took my mind off my shoulders, which were absolutely screaming in pain at this point.

When I got back to the breakwall, I knew I was back to taking a serious beating. The funny thing is, I had done my best in the days leading up to the race convincing myself that it wouldn't be this bad. Looking back on it, I knew deep down that this suffering was inevitable. And now every stroke was getting weaker than the one before it. A guy pulled up in a gray boat and started barking at me to catch the people in front of me. I wanted to yell at him "what the hell do you think I'm trying to do? Why don't you get your fat ass off of that seat and show me how to do it?" But all I did was nod at him and continue my feeble paddling. Then someone from the escort boat yelled at me that I was going to do it, I was going to finish. And for the first time that day, I knew he was right.

When I reached the final turn at the pier, I almost fell off the board when the finish boat let off its horn, but I made the turn and headed toward the beach. The ocean decided to finish me off completely this day, and a big wave knocked me over right at the beach. The board got ripped from my hands and I did a somersault in front of everyone. And as I crossed the line under the tent, I noticed they started taking the tent down right away. I saw Lisa, and smiled pretty sheepishly at her. I joked to her that I was ready for a beer. And then I heard the announcement I was praying I wouldn't hear as they read off my race number:

"And there he is, the last official finisher of the Hennessey's 2007 U.S. Paddleboarding championship"