Crossed Off

This is a long story. But some times stories deserve to be told.

*FLASHBACK* Last year, on President's Day weekend 2007, my best friend and I made lists because, well, I'm a list person. I made a list of things to do while I'm single. (Check out my list blog: listitup.blogspot.com This particular list was posted in December and updated just last night) I was venting that so many of my friends were engaged. "Married! You can't get married this early in life! There's so much to do while you're single. Like....kayaking. Yeah. I refuse to first experience kayaking as a married woman." And so kayaking made the list.

So a few months later I see this poster to go study abroad in my program with a kayaking class. I applied. I got my acceptance letter and then I wasn't entirely sure if I wanted to go to New Zealand. So, like any good BYU student, I made a pro and con list.

Cons
It will cost a lot of money
I'll be far away from my family
I'll have to get in shape

Pros
I'll go kayaking and cross it off my list
I'll have an awesome experience
I'll leave the country and also get to cross that off my list

So, like any good BYU student, I prayed about it. I said to God, "Seeing I live on the philosophy that I invest in memories and experiences and that my cons list is really lame, I'm decided to go to New Zealand. Will Thou confirm if this is Thy will?"


And then I flipped open to Doctrine and Covenants section 61. I read the chapter heading. It said that Hyrum and Joseph crossed the Mississippi River in canoes. I could be wrong, but I think canoeing is about as close as you can get to kayaking in the scriptures. God had spoken. I was going to New Zealand.

*FLASHFORWARD TO PRESENT DAY*

Monday (the 18th) I went kayaking in the Matarwa river in Gore. This was my 3rd lesson, 2nd in a river and it was scary last time. It's kind of scary to go to a new river every time. I always feel like I'm charting new waters....maybe because I am. I think I've had a few near-death experiences because of kayaking. I didn't go into detail in the last post but the last time we were in the Oreti River and I attempted doing a T-rescue. I found the boat and could see the surface but I couldn't lift my head. I was an inch away from air and I couldn't get it. I could see air. I could see birds flying in the blue sky and the whispey clouds jetting accross the atmosphere. I could see freedom. But a thin layer of water separated me from breathing. The thing about water is it doesn't matter how thin that layer is if you're under it. Transparency means nothing. If you can't breathe, you can't breathe. It's quite a dumb statement, really; yet so alarmingly true. I couldn't poke my noggen past that layer and I had to bail.

But I forget how to bail.

My arms were flailing around in a frenzy. Carbondioxide clamored to be released from my panic-ridden body. Blood raced through my body and I became increasingly aware of each pounding pulse and each palpitation in my chest. My nose burned to inhale and I had to do everything in my power to fight that instinct, knowing that water-though vital for life-if inhaled, would fill my lungs with fluid and drown me. My mind cringed at the image buried in the back of my head; the image of my body flowing downstream in an upturned kayak and the newspaper article reading FREAK KAYAKING ACCIDENT, GIRL DIES.

Luckily the instinct to live kicked in and somehow I managed to surface.

Limitations are for those who can't breathe and when you're under water, you can't breathe. You're TOTALLY limited. It's amazing how fast you can fall from one level of Maslow's hierarchy of needs to another in a split moment. One minute you're drinking in sunshine and thinking about that delicious meat pie sitting in your lunch pail and the next thing you know you're upside-down in a floating coffin tapping on your boat and just praying that your lungs can once again expand with air.

We have two instructors: John looks like Aladdin and Jason looks like Heath Ledger (the guy on A Knight's Tale). Jason told us he would barrel roll us if we went over. (We call it HOG...Hand Of God) So Monday, when we were at Matarwa River, I went over right in front of John and tapped on my boat three times as is custom when one flips over. Nothing. I tapped again. I knew John was right next to me. Still nothing. So I bailed. After wiping my dripping hair away from my eyes I looked at John while cocking my head to the side to maximize visibility with a helmet flopping over my eyes. "I was right there" John said with a kind, patronizing tone.

Apparently John didn't get the memo to barrel roll us. He put his boat against mine for the T-rescue expecting me to grab the boat and flip myself. I'm sure if I had just held my breath for a bit longer he would have eventually rolled me. But it was SO scary. When you're upside-down under water you instinctively want to arch your back to kick your legs under you and push up from the bottom. But you forget your legs are floating above you and everything is so disoriented and you panic. I was waiting for a hand of God and it never came.

Later that day I was practicing railing and peeling out of an eddie and tipped over yet again. This time Jason HOGed me. Everyone cheered because I didn't bail. That felt pretty cool. I got back in line to peel out again. And that's about the time I had a mental brake down. I couldn't even lie to myself and tell me that I wanted to kayak. I thought big people weren't afraid of things. I thought the older you got the fewer tear ducts you had. I was terribly mistaken. I'm 20 and there I was, crying in my kayak like the time I lost the student body election in 6th grade. Clouds of fairies and unicorns couldn't have made me feel better. I wanted only to get out of my floating torture trap and walk to the other side, dragging my coffin behind me. It was certainly shallow enough but Jason wouldn't let me do that. Instead, he escorted me and Haeree (she has more problems kayaking than I do, if you can imagine; she was shivering with cold and she can't remember the last 10 minutes in the river) to the other side and we got out before the rest of the group.

The problem with near death experiences is not the experience itself. When it's over you know that it was only a near death experience and not an actual death experience. Your mind, however, doesn't like living so close to the edge. Even if it's actually safe with instructors and lifejackets your brain says, "Put your hands in the air, step away from the kayak, and no one gets hurt." Your body usually listens to your brain and when it doesn't, that's when you have problems.

Wednesday was the last day for kayaking. The group went to Waiau river. I considered aligning my bodily condition with my mindset by hitting my head on a large rock so as to provide a decent excuse to avoid the river excursion. But the better part of me; the part that is not easily deterred by fear and motivated by challenge, followed through. I had to get over such a mental hump-no, mental mountain-to even get that skirt on and sit in a kayak even while beached on pavement. But I did it. I entered the water (perhaps timidly) and came out on the other end. I went through rapids And I didn't even cry..

I have inspirational 70’s posters decorating my walls at home. One poster depicts a kayaker paddling down intense white water while the accompanying caption reads, “Courage is mastery of fear, not absence of fear.” I always thought it was poetic but only recently have I internalized those words; coincidentally by doing the same activity on the poster. I am courageous. I am Spartacus. I can do hard things. I can do scary things. I can kayak.

I can do anything.


"Kayak" is now crossed off the list.