SUP204

One of the most underrated superpowers in life and sport is knowing the difference between a reason and an excuse. Some sports practically hand out medals for inventive excuses (you know who you are), while endurance sports demand grit to a fault. “Tough it out” is the mantra, even when the smarter play might be a pivot or a pause. This week’s training plan for my 7 th long paddle? Technically last week’s, just shuffled forward in time. Because summer’s running the show now. Storming around the province, leaving plumes of smoke like it’s auditioning for a disaster film. Plans are made. Nature laughs. Plan A was a long, easy Friday paddle. The idea: beat the boats, dodge the smoke, and outmaneuver the storms. But Plan A got weather slapped, so I pivoted. Enter a very hard ride. So hard, I doubled up for the first time ever. Two hardcore efforts in one week. Victory? Yes. Part of the plan? Not in any version of the alphabet soup. Saturday was supposed to be the paddle reboot, and wi...

Anticipating a smoky Saturday, I shuffled my schedule and made a break for the water on Friday. There’s something magical about paddling into the weekend, minimal traffic, maximum solitude. The downside? There are fewer boat wakes which have become my nemesis and my teacher, nudging me to stay the course and build resilience, even when the muscles are screaming after five or six hours of effort. My prep? Let’s just say it was… improvisational. Unsure about the plan the night before, I skipped the usual mega-breakfast, got out later than planned, and left behind extra water. But at least I remembered gloves, the thin line between paddling and a brutal hand meltdown. My injuries are healing, yes, but they’re still tender. I was bracing for blisters or worse. Mid-July brings paddle camp in full swing, and the water was alive, kids zipping around in kayaks, balancing on paddleboards, hollering with joy. A chaotic symphony of summer. Just as I launched, fate threw in a twist: a flotilla of...

The province is ablaze, and smoke is sashaying through the city like it owns the place, canceling picnics, outdoor runs, and pretty much anyone’s will to explore our Provincial Parks. It’s only early July, but summer’s already serving a symphony of thunderclaps and wildfire plumes with a splash of eye-watering apathy. The air quality alerts ping more reliably than my calendar notifications and are now just… Tuesday. This past week? I moved less than a houseplant. Each time I schedule a session, the daylight turns sepia, the sun blushes blood-red like it saw something scandalous, and the air hits you with a mix of hot vengeance and lung lava. I could train indoors, but there’s something soul-crushing about sweating in a fluorescent-lit box when the warmth outside beckons like a golden temptress. It’s double punishment: cardio death followed by existential boredom. So, today’s paddle? Hope was low. I stalked three different weather models; they all agreed on one thing: doom. Forecast #...

I was supposed to be on a long ride today, but thanks to the air quality gods (or maybe just Alberta), I got smoked out. So instead, I decided to channel my thwarted ambition into something equally noble: a session report. I meant to start early. Truly. But in the grand tradition of modern athleticism, “early” was more of a vibe than a reality. I had a brief panic that a Cup Race at the boathouse would clog the launch, but by some divine paddle intervention, the heats wrapped up just as I was ready to shove off. The universe, it seems, occasionally throws us a bone. Conditions? A Mystery Box. Water: unknown. Boat traffic: shrug. Wind: sure, why not. I was spiritually available for whatever chaos the river had in store. The Game Plan - Build on last week’s 4-hour epic - Eat and hydrate like a responsible adult - Paddle steady - Embrace motorboat mayhem with grace and juvenile ambition. - Stroke focus: from length (last session) to authority. Translation: paddle like you mean it. I had g...