Sometimes It is Not Even Fun

It doesn’t have to be fun to be fun and sometimes it’s not even fun. We are bumping our way up the Murramarang coast in our sea kayaks. The forecast morning southerlies switched early and so we are plugging into a 10 knot northeasterly from the get go. At North Head, where we leave the semi-sheltered waters of the bay and paddle out into the open ocean there are two swells, one northerly and one southerly. On top of that colliding mess is a rambunctious sea left over from the strong winds of the last couple of days. Calling the seas confused is an understatement; befuddled, bemused, bewildered, baffled might be more appropriate.

A kilometre of so beyond North Head I start to feel rather queasy, a feeling which increases the further north we go as the jostling in the kayak increases. We are off-shore far enough that trying to keep my eyes on the horizon that keeps disappearing as we fall into a trough is difficult and looking at the sea horizon is nausea inducing.

Truthfully, I am a bit tired. Saturday was a haul into a moderately strong wind in steep seas and then, because I am fearful of losing all my muscle mass from endurance training in the kayak, I strength trained on Sunday.

As we paddle north, I think about one of my young relatives who said, after running a marathon, that she “was tired of structured training.” I remember thinking at the time, as I juggle staying fit for sea kayaking, rock climbing, trail running and bushwalking, that training for one event, a simple one at that, for four to six months sounded like a snap. After 30 plus years of training, I have little sympathy.

Some days are hard and fun in a weird kind of way, and some days you have to persevere even when it is not fun at all.