I love standup paddle boarding. So much so that I have two boards in my quiver – an 11’2” Hobie ATR (stands for All Terrain R-something) and a 14’ Hobie Elite racing board. The later is flatter, sleeker, and, well, faster than the other one.
I adore SUP so much that in my mind – particularly when I am in a flotilla of other paddlers – I have the best form, the best stance, the fastest cadence, and
everyone else thinks so too. I have visions of racing. And winning (even though I can probably count the number of times I’ve SUP-ped on the sum total of my digits and never been anywhere but my home body of water – Big Bear Lake, California).
In reality I’m likely mediocre – if any of the other sports I participate in is any indication. Except skiing. I can ski and not just in my minds view. But SUP makes me feel like a kid. It lets me dream like I did when I was ten; having visions of stardom with every activity and indulgence. Just like my younger sister.
Ann was five when she confided she wanted to be a professional kick ball player. As an eight-year-old all I could do was think that she was so not good enough to make a professional team no matter how much she practiced. But she dreamed and every night she joined the neighbor kids. Always the last to be picked for a team and the only kick ball player I knew that could strike out every time she was up to kick.
But I continue to get more waves under my belt and my enthusiasm for the sport is maturing. Perhaps instead of competing I will get to write about it like the assignment I am wrapping up for publication later this month. I’ll post when it does and include images of my road trip SUP-ping eastern Sierra lakes and waterways.