Iron Fist

Two weeks ago:

“You know what I realized the other day, dude?” I said to my cousin. “I realize that I’m big on talk and not so big on action, and I seriously need to swing that ratio the other way.”

He nods in agreement, or at least I assume he does. He’s in his apartment, and I’m in a parking lot, jabbering away on my cell phone. “Yeah, I’ve found that if there’s something I want to do, and I tell a lot of people about it, I end up not actually going through with it.”

“Exactly!”

“So now I’ve made a policy of just writing it down and keeping it to myself if I really want to do something, and then tell my friends about it after the fact.”

Interesting.

Four days ago:

I usually stick to just regular coffee during the weeks. But on Fridays I splurge and get a double cappucino. As Hannah steamed the milk for my drink she asked if I had any plans for the weekend. I told her that I was going out for a friend’s going-away party that night, but otherwise I had nothing really planned. “And you, Hannah? Any plans for the weekend?”

She told me that she was probably going to bike out to Sauvie Island with some friends on Sunday. “And then Sunday night I’m going to dragon boat paddling practice!”

On lazy weekends past I’d seen the dragon boats paddling away along the Willamette. I’d just never had any idea what it was all about. So she told me, about the practices and the races and all that.

“Sweet!” I said. “How do you even get started with something like that?”

“Actually, we need some more paddlers. You wanna come down and join us?”

Wow. “Umm…okay!” Operation: Push My Comfort Zone is still in full effect, after all.

“Cool! Well, actually, do you know Ducky, at the Mac Store?”

“Yeah, I know Ducky.” (I also know Ducky, but that’s another story altogether.)

“He’s sort of the team captain…so go talk to him and then just come down to the water on Sunday.”

Very interesting. I resolve not to tell anyone about this till later.

Two nights ago:

I show up early on the waterfront, hoping that I’ll see either Hannah or Ducky soon, since I know no one else on the team. People start showing up with life jackets and paddles in hand. Apparently the elite packs their own equipment.

Even as I climb into the boat, even as we paddle away from the dock and out into the open water, I can still hardly believe I’m doing this. It’s not the being in a boat on the river part — being in deep water doesn’t bother me. I was born to be on the water. It’s the fact that 15 out of the 18 other people in this overly long canoe are perfect strangers. And that this is something I’ve never done before.

Screw it. I’m pushing my comfort zone, right?

I pick up the rhythm of the paddling easy enough. Darcy, who is sitting on the bench next to me, gives me some pointers on technique, and tells me what Ducky’s different barked commands mean. We get our canoe going down the Willamette, paddling hard in the late afternoon sun. I am grinning like a madman and drenched in sweat by the time we swing around Ross Island for the trip back to the dock.

By the time we moor the boat I am soaked from head to toe in river water from that final sprint. The people I talk to on the way back up the quay seem impressed that I managed to keep up the whole time. Ducky tells me that the next practice is on Thursday.

I think I’ll be there.

Tonight:

My cell phone rings. It’s my cousin again.

“Hey, dude, how’s it going?”

“It’s going great, man…remember what we were talking about the other week?”