Older than Dirt and...

Its a week end of

"oh how I love this sport"

three medals, and two days

of wins, teamwork,

magic and silly friendship stuff

dorming it like wild college kids

and there is a thousand laughs

in the fun account

to feel very rich.

Hawaiianly charmed

and entertained

on a grassy hillside abundantly dotted

with reclining, dancing, drinking,

beautifully tattooed, smiling paddlers.

Our return here, marks five years

from our first race EVER!

Still can see us standing on the shoreline

naively novice in our big red bag shirts

that held rather than hid the smell of nerves.

We ran back and forth watching every turn

for tips, for clues

we had only discovered

the sport three months earlier

and we were, hmmm...

how should I say....terrible!

Without a coach or resident expert we

had learned

thru borrowed videos and books.

Even once simulating a way to dry paddle

using a picnic table and a cooler.

(Yeah, I know, odd to picture)

But for some reason

we were a crowd pleaser that day

coming in second

(don't get excited, out of two)

behind the intimidating Hawaiians.

Discovering immediately this was a sport

where teams helped other teams,

everyone friendly, good natured

and generous with information

and encouragement.

They LOVED us and still do it seems!

Charmed and seemingly pleased

to see us do well.

Is it because we are relatively new

or an unlikely collection

of older than average athletes

from the desert?

As much of a surprise to us,

as it is to them

when we claim firsts?

Or it it the new team shirts

with the cool logo

(a long ways from the red bag shirt days?)

No longer the nervous ones pacing

the shore line for our name to be called.

We are in the Silver Masters division now

(for women over 50)

or affectionately known as

"older than dirt."

Having earned this position for being

silver and seasoned! Finally!

We are kick back

casual, joking even before the race.

Getting around to figuring

out who will sit where

as we walk to our canoe.

Comfortable with the challenge

of dock entry

leaning left, one by one!

And we claim the water

as ours right away with a rolling start

and hold it with a fury

with clean technique and style,

Not worrying about the turn until

we get there, ready to do whatever

it takes to stay ahead and out

of the reed area we termed

"looking for Moses."

We do and we win.

I have found myself in seat one

as the stroker and

the water truly does belong to me

out in front in all ways

and its exhilarating, and thrilling

its my job, to get there and stay there

and it's...hard!

Very hard and grueling.

So, I try to get out of it for

the next couple of races

...and can't!

Seat one had always been

someone else's seat,

and I realized I had just been sitting

there waiting for someone else

to come and claim it,

so I could go back

to being a low keyed,

less responsibility, seat two again.

But what if this is my seat

and I claim it as such...

(no one else seems to want it either)

and train to be the best one

I can be and in better shape

for the job in the future?

Hmmm?

So what if we are "older than dirt"

and come from the desert?

We are winners and

a team to be reckoned with

and just like our first medal win

in Tempe five years ago when someone said

"and they are hot too"

It was heard again this past Saturday

as we claimed our over 50 hardware...

Better than the medal? Almost!

Looks like we must be

doing something right.

Oh, how I love this sport!

Pam Piper Rain