I am notorious for starting things, finding out that I don’t have a natural aptitude for that thing and then quitting. It’s something that I really dislike about myself and that I am slowly working to change. It’s appropriate that I read this post, today, from a new blog I found called Make + Meaning. It fits well with today’s #best09 theme. The blog is all about engaging the craft community in conversations about craft and community and art and processes. The post, in particular, though, talks about the process of trying new things and the reaction that people have to the process of learning a new craft. I fall intot he category of people that gets angry and frustrated if I’m not a natural at something. Basically, I get frustrated at a challenge.
This is nothing new to me. In the third or fourth grade, I had to go to the state university and take a bunch of tests. I had no idea what these tests were for, but it turns out that my parents were trying to have me placed in the Gifted and Talented program in the local public school system. Being the natural nerd and pleaser that I am, I tried very hard on these tests. When we got the results back, they were unlike any I’d ever seen. This wasn’t pass/fail or grades of A, it was more a discussion. I remember, clearly, being ENRAGED that one of the negative comments was: Frustrates easily. When presented with a challenge, Lydia will try once and will discard the challenge, quickly, if she does not have a natural aptitude to solve it. I’m still sort of indignant about it – EVEN THOUGH I KNOW THAT IT’S TOTALLY TRUE. I believe that this is what my mom (and my husband!) would call Being Hard-Headed.
This year, I took on a challenge. It was something COMPLETELY outside of my skill set. So completely outside of it that most people still think I probably was forced into doing it by my husband. I started whitewater kayaking. Yes. A rather athletic endeavor that involves a lot of hand-eye coordination, balance, endurance and a sense of adventure. Those things do not come naturally to me. On top of all of that, it’s a very social thing, and I am not a very social person.
We bought our whitewater boats in February, trekking to Tennessee to pick them up directly from the manufacturer. That’s how excited we were about this stuff. Then, we went to indoor roll sessions – weekly sessions in an indoor pool where one learns or practices how to roll a kayak. That was the first challenge. It was gruesome. In two sessions, neither of us could get it down, flailing underwater without success. We got pretty discouraged, but we’d made a huge investment in boats and gear and stuck to it. During our third session, The Husband got it. He landed rolls one right after another, looking like a regular plastic-bottomed sea lion or something. Meanwhile, I flailed. I got motion sick. I puked in my mouth instead of the pool. I sucked. I tore a ligament or tendon or something in my shoulder. That’s how bad I sucked.
The wintry weather of February and March gave way to a beautiful, wet spring. Rain is a blessing to whitewater kayaking enthusiasts. It was an abnormally wet spring. We headed out to the creek and rivers. I loved it. I wouldn’t practice a roll, though, because I couldn’t do it and didn’t want to swim and didn’t want to bother with a bow rescue and my shoulder hurt and…and…and…
Summer came with more rain – after two consecutive drought years – and we were still paddling outdoors. Summer roll sessions started up and I tried, tried again – to no avail. I declared, publicly, that I’d learn to roll by my 29th birthday. Lo and behold, the session two days before my birthday, I landed an unassisted kayak roll in the outdoor pool. Then, I landed another one. Then, I was dizzy so I had to take a break. Once that passed, I tried again. Nothing doing. Flailing. Wildly. With tears. And a sore shoulder.
Before I knew it, my self-imposed kayaking hiatus was upon me. I am accident prone and didn’t want giant bruises from rocks and other assorted river junk to mar my lily white skin on my wedding day. I was also extremely busy. In the meantime, The Husband was developing into a legitimate Class III+, IV- paddler. He’d left me behind in skill, determination and drive to excel at our new sport. I doubted more and more my ability to learn, to conquer a challenge. I made more and more excuses when my kayaking friends would implore me to join them on an easy paddle.
Enter the recent start of winter roll sessions. Here it was again, my failure spot. I was good at the paddling part. I handled rapids at my skill level rather well. I enjoyed it. I hated the thought of rolling. It was like I had a mental barrier against it. So, I talked my way out of the first session. Then, the second. Finally, it was put up or shut up. I went so far, the day of that third session, to voice to The Husband that maybe I didn’t even like boating and would just quit it, altogether. In the end, I decided to just go. Give it one last try.
We arrived at roll session and it was packed. I meekly asked The Husband to help me and not to yell at me. (There’s a reason the seasoned vets advised us that spouse-spotted rolling isn’t a great idea.) I was in my boat. In the pool. He told me to Just Do It. So I did. Tuck. Flip. Sweep. Roll. Air! Air! Air! I didn’t flail. It clicked. It was easy. I was in the water and then back on top. No pain in my shoulder, no strain in my back, chlorine-tainted air in my nostrils. I’d done it!
I proceeded to do it three more times, unassisted. I tire easily (because I’m completely out of shape) and I get nauseous quickly in an indoor pool environment, rolling in circles. It was best to not push my new trick’s luck. It was out of the pool, until the next time.
I’m hoping that the roll is still sweet to me, this Friday.
