Call It What It Is

Failure. I failed. I set an ambitious goal, and I failed to meet it. I was physically incapable of achieving what I set out to do. And I'm ok with that. I tried. 

In explanation -- the first planned event in my Epic Summer Adventure didn't work out as expected. Greg and I were going to stand up paddleboard (SUP) the Intracoastal Waterway from Norfolk to Manteo, NC, and then I intended to keep going solo as far south as I could get by mid-September. 

We lasted three day trips and one overnight camping and made it about one mile over the NC border. An old waterman in Rodanthe, NC warned me about the strong and steady southwest winds prevalent in July when I went to pick up my new SUP. It wasn't that I didn't believe him -- of course I did. Guess it was just one of those things I needed to experience for myself. And I thought maybe the winds would back off overnight, so I could just paddle early in the day, even before dawn if I needed to. 

It took us nearly three hours to go barely three miles on Monday afternoon from Pungo Ferry Landing Park to Sandy Point Campground on Knott's Island. And it was not easy paddling. I paddled pretty much as hard as I could without being able to take a break for an hour and 45 minutes during a two mile stretch that didn't have any protection from those punishing southwest winds. I started standing up, but quickly lowered to my knees when I realized how much sail area my body was creating. Then when my knees got sore, I sat down. Every time I switched position, I lost a little ground, ended up beam to the one-to-two-foot chop, and then had to struggle work my nose back into the wind. 

My shoulders ached and burned. My knees screamed at me. My ankles protested. My thighs cramped up. I think maybe my hair didn't hurt, but it was the only part of me that didn't. 

We made it to the pretty little campground, at which point our attitude about the winds changed. The breeze kept the bugs away. But they also stayed fairly steady at about 10 knots all night long. Didn't do much to help the Sound to settle down for another long day of paddling on Tuesday. When I got up in the morning to the heavy chop, I simply couldn't face the prospect of another day of contesting those winds. We called Greg's parents, who very kindly came to pick us up and take us back to Virginia Beach so we could adjust our plans so they didn't include 10 to 12 miles on a SUP each day. 

My Very Best Friend said, "Not a failure! Just a change of plan." I very much appreciate her positivity and support. And I'm still gonna call it what it is...failure. 

Calling it a failure doesn't mean it's a judgment on my self-worth or my moral character. It is an honest assessment of my physical capabilities and mental fortitude, which -- sure, doesn't feel great to know neither is as strong as I was hoping when I planned the trip. Now I know. 

I would rather plan and try and fail a thousand times (ok, that might get to be a drag...how about 10 times) than never dream and never plan and never try just because I'm afraid to fail. It's a Winston Churchill's man in the arena approach. It also goes along with my ability to be ok, if not comfortable with being uncomfortable. Growth happens when I take myself out of my comfort zone, and there is the goodness, the sweetness of life in that growth. 

So I'm taking from this failure a re-affirmation of my self-commitment to trying hard things, to dreaming big, to continually pushing myself into discomfort so that I can fully appreciate this one single life I have to live.

And, it's not like the adventure is over. This change of plans allows me to join up with my Aunt and Uncle on a 30-foot sail boat on a trip from Massachusetts to as far as we get south in the three weeks I'll be with them. Gonna learn me something about blow-boats!