nplc

The North Pacific Log Club came together for its annual Log Jam.

Two rules: nothing under 9 feet & no leash.

Water temps reaching 60 degrees (a full 7 degrees warmer than our summer average) found everyone foregoing the 5/3's, 4/3's & 3/2's.... for boardshorts & bikinis. Seeing this much skin in the water is a rarity around here. It was a day spent in the Garden of Eden for us Pacific Northwesterners.

Single fins, 2 + 1's, paddle boards.....a bevy of boards to choose from.

A sampling of the mix....

beach boys

The V-man is not shy. Much like his mother, in that respect. We weren't on the beach for more than 10 minutes when A-rod & his dad wandered over to discuss the dismal surf conditions.

The V-man & A-rod sized each other up....then ran off to play war games in the sand. Four and a half hours later.....after killing all the bad guys....conquering the sand dune - twice....saving crabs & fish from the tide pools.....they slowly wandered back.

Yeah....being at the beach sucks.



sea critters...

crab...

v-man in the magic circle...

heroes

Childhood heroes....

We all had them. Some of us...still have them.

I didn't grow up surfing. Thus....names like Woody Brown, Greg Noll, Tom Curren and the like....while quite impressive... are not the idols that stoked my dreams as a kid. Don't get me wrong....I'd give my left nut to surf half as graceful as Rell Sun. She was/is an absolute vision. Just the same.....I didn't pour over industry mags looking for a mention....a glimpse...of her name.

My hero....one of my heroes....was/is 4 years older than me. She doesn't carry name-dropping recognition. At least...not beyond a pool deck. In fact, mention her name....and most don't recognize it. A shame...really. She....was Wheaties material.

Cynthia "Sippy" Woodhead.

At 12...she was the youngest swimmer to qualify for the Olympic Time Trials. (1976)

At 13...she was the youngest member of the American National Team that competed against the East Germans and Russians in East Berlin and Leningrad. (1977)

At 14...she was an American record holder and world champion.

At 15...she was the World Female Swimmer of the Year. She was ranked either No. 1 or No. 2 every year from 1978 through 1983 except one. While every other 15-year-old in America was worrying about their Friday night dates....she had established 18 American and 4 World records.

President Jimmy Carter's announcement that the U.S. would boycott the 1980 Olympic Games in Moscow....would be one of the most defining moments of her swimming career. Sippy was 16, and had qualified to swim six events. Ranked No. 1 in the world in the 100m, 200m, 400m and 800m free...she had it in her sights to win gold in all four events in Moscow, plus two relays.

Dashed. Dreams....all for naught. Years spent training....gone. No gold. No parade. Nothing. Not a surprise that she didn't bounce back after that devastating blow.

Still.....she was....and continues to be....one of my heroes.

Why? What's the connection? I mean....there's a shitload of swimmers out there to choose from. Why Sippy?

Her older brother....was my parents neighbor.

For a couple weeks each summer....(I was in my mid-to-late teens)....Miss Sippy would come stay with this brother....and grace our pool time with her presence. She'd share a lane with my sister and I during morning and afternoon practices. She was gracious. Encouraging. Inspiring.

This wasn't a case of the 10 minute meet & greet. Shake a hand....get an autograph....maybe a black & white snap shot. I shared a lane....workouts....with my hero. I was beyond honored.

Didn't matter to me that nobody knew who the hell I was talking about when I'd bring up her name. I knew who she was.

I still know who she is....

cso

In all my years of competitive swimming...16...Nationals, Regionals and State...I don't ever recall being nervous before a race. Prelims...finals...didn't matter....it was just another race.

Surf contests...on the other hand...make me want to puke. Nerves of steel become frantic butterflies.

Regardless....I do have a good time.



Sonja doing her best to cross step through a short-lived left for the inside connection.

(Her very first foray into contests. The genius got a breather.)

photo courtesy Pamela Clark

one

One....year.

One....year....I have been adding to this blog.

This.....journal....of sorts.

What started out as a means of expression for me....a way to "verbalize" my thoughts....has become.....well......I'm not sure what it's become.

Drivel?

I gave myself two rules when I started this...project.

1. No self-editing. (I'm notorious for writing out responses/thoughts/musings then wiping it all away with a tap of the [delete] key.)

2. No re-reading. (Once I 'publish'....it's done.)

I did quite well, in the beginning. Then I discovered....people were actually reading....me. Seeing....me.

Scared the crap out of...me.

I mean....how could I possibly let someone see me? As the artist has stated....on more than one occasion.... "for more than fifteen years I couldn't get more than two words out of you about how you feel....yet here....on this blog....you can spill a thousand words for people you don't even know."

Well......yeah. I mean.....nobody's really reading this. Right? Right?

Eh....

Get your glasses. Pull up a stool. Pour yourself a drink.

Steady yourself for another year of....

Ups. Downs. Ins. Outs. Beginnings. Endings. Reading. Not reading.

.....prattling on.

road tripping

I was on vacation this past week.

A whole week.

An event that rarely happens.

I accrue a shitload of overtime during tax season. Plus....I'm alloted 3 weeks of paid vacation time. Do I ever take it? No. Well...a day here & there....but generally never a week at a time.

So.....coerced by a cute boy....I agreed to take some time off.

No schedule. No time table. No destination.

Surfing.

Car napping.

Catching up with friends.

I haven't been this relaxed in years.

Also....

Took several opportunities to field test Sonja's new fin...



....me likey.

photo courtesy of gaz

sea turtle II

School's out...



get your sea turtle ready...

you'll need it to get you to the peak...

I got mine.

sonja's new dainties

I see London.
I see France.
I see Sonja's underpants...

photo courtesy of gaz

ten

Will the real genius please stand up?

Ten years this beauty still woos me.



I picked her up in the summer of 1997. I had just finished Hood to Coast...and the v-man's dad was all excited for me to go check out Josh's shop. After a day & a half of little to no sleep and close to 18 miles of running...the last thing I wanted to do was walk anywhere....except to the beer garden. But...he kept insisting there was a board I would want to see.

I had been riding a 7'6" Pearson Arrow exclusively for a couple of years but really wanted to take my surfing in a new direction. Yes... to say that I am fascinated with Old Skool...Soul Surfer....Single Fin-ness...would be an understatement. But I digress...

He was right.

A Jim "the genius" Phillips noserider. Josh had just gotten her in. And....she was meant for me.

Despite my aches & blisters....we headed to the cove. I waxed her up & rode her for almost an hour in the waist high peelers. I was in love.

She's starting to feel the effects of age though.

The stress fractures & dent on her deck......

...closely resemble the split she left on the top of my noggin.

There's a bruise on her rail as well....no doubt the result of colliding with the bridge of my nose.

Despite all the bites over the years....she treats me well.

Probably won't get another 10 years out of her. You can certainly bet...I'll try.

tree hugger

Yes...it's true.

I...am a tree hugger.

Blame my spoiled youth...if you must.

There were eight giant oak trees in my parents' front yard. Hours of my childhood were spent tending to those trees. Raking leaves into piles for playing.....collecting bags of acorns for slingshot ammo....and climbing those old giants. My dad took some unused rope from the barn loft hay pulley system and fashioned a rope swing on one of the largest trees for us. Its branches extended over the front of the house. My brothers, sister and I would climb onto the roof of the house and jump. Soaring high over the yard until our momentum would crest...the rope would slack... and down we would fly. Laughing and screaming that we could touch the moon.

Long gone are those days. The giant oaks succumbing to disease....my dad took the last of them down in the fall of 2005.

What got me thinking about these amazing trees? Penfold's lament on missing proper trees in Portugal.

I consider myself very lucky to have grown up in Oregon. We have big beautiful trees...despite the logging.

Big...beautiful...trees.

Go ahead....hug one.

These soldiers lost their battle this past November to torrential downpours and 85mph winds.

photos courtesy of gaz

peak training?

50 meter pool
------------------

500 s
100 k
400 p

3 x [200 @ 3:30 finger drag mod/ 100 @ 2:00 neg steady/ 100 @ 2:15 finger drag mod/ 100 @ 2:15 neg strong]

100 ez

20 x 50 pull
~5 @ 1:00
~5 @ :55
~5 @ :50
~5 @ :45

200 ez

total = 3800 meters
-----------------------

I don't know how long Timbuktu will stick around. Hopefully....a long spell. Either way....it's a good excuse for me to up my meterage.

Gotta get these guns in shape...

red sonja...

...came out to play.

Headhigh peaks at Timbuktu.

She came alive.

Pretty sure I saw her smile...more than once.



side note: Lots & lots of sea life this past weekend. Whales...pelicans...sea lions...great whites....

board & photo courtesy of gaz

seasons

My very first paddle out into the lineup....

...was on this board.

She belongs to the v-man's dad. He picked her up in the early 80's. She's patiently awaiting the v-man...whenever he's ready.

Roads End...fall...1990.

Didn't catch anything.

Didn't know what the hell I was doing.

Didn't care.

I was hooked.

eat me

That's right....I got tagged.

Not exactly sure of the rules....but daddypapersurfer has issued the challenge.

My take on this....a modern day chain letter. And well.....I'll be honest....I suck at these. I always feel the need to bend the rules.

This one....involves food. My nemesis. Expect more than a bit of rule bending.

So....instead of plugging a few restaurants.....I'm going to give you my 5 favorite foods. As some know....I grew up on a small farm. We raised our own beef/chicken/eggs. Grew our own veggies & fruits. And yeah....my mom often baked from scratch. Pretty much spoils you for future slim pickings at the local market.

Okay then...without further adieu....

1. Any mouthwatering bigass piece of red meat. Preferably....filet mignon. Medium rare.

2. Tomatoes. Heirloom....but any fresh (from the garden...not those hydroponic pieces of shit) sliced tomat sprinkled with pepper will do.

3. Corn on the cob. Sweet white. Grilled. Served with fresh butter, pepper and a side of floss..... Yum!

4. My dad's meatloaf. Even better the day after as a sandwich.

5. Peaches. mmmmm...........dripping juicy goodness.....fresh from the tree.

I could add so much more....but 5 was the limit.

I think I'm supposed to tag 5 more bloggers. Unfortunately....this is where my the rules don't apply to me mentality takes over. I am going to decline to tag any fellow bloggers.

Why?

....because the majority of them are surfers.

And well....

....like you need an explanation.

timeless

...hickory dickory dock
the mouse ran up the clock
the clock struck one
the mouse ran down
hickory dickory dock...

I've been without my watch...for five days now. Inadvertently, I left it at the beach.

Aarrrgghhh.....driving me nuts.

Not only do I feel naked....but not wearing it has thrown off my stride. Without that metal monstrosity weighting down my left wrist.....my gait is completely askew. I won't even get into the fact that I haven't been able to stare at it/adjust it/fiddle with it throughout my day.

Today during my (daily) trek down the hill to the club... I tried shifting my gym bag to my left shoulder....take up some slack. But then my right shoulder felt naked. So I stuffed my right hand into my jean pocket....thinking I should keep the damn thing from flapping around like a beached bass. Christ....not a good idea. There's a reason my mother calls me grace....

Not to worry though.....I was able to avert the near fatal face plant into the cement.

Now....what time is it?

balance

Ladies & Gentlemen..........Elvis has left the building.

My yogi is on sebatical for a month. Thailand. Getting his om on.

I've been studying with nick for a couple of years now. He leads a very physical practice focusing on breath, movement, strength and balance. I leave his class on an endorphine high....calm, physically sated & sweating.

Instead of grumbling about having to break in a new instructor....I've decided to use his absence as an opportunity to expand my practice. I'm going to open my mind to the slurry of substitutes that will be heading his class while he's gone.

Who knows.....one of those subs may be the yin to his yang.

brrrr...

A Pre-Mother's Day cleaning spree (my usual routine) with a little v-man help made for a nice segue into Sunday. Got to hang with a few of nature's finest....whales, sealions & pelicans in the line-up. Water temp dropped below 50.....cccccccooold.

photo courtesy of gaz

humor me?

So....

I've been perusing various blogs lately. Reading....laughing...oohing...aahing. Taking note of all the creativity that comes with humour...sarcasm...wit...art. There are a lot of truly talented typers in the world wide blogosphere. Where do they find the time?

Then....there's me....or....mine.

Pretty damn dry. Boring. Blah...

Basic black background. Simple white font. It's all rather blase. I tried adding a little color to my banner....but even that lacks pizazz. Simply put...I've always been and will always be the "plain" twin. S...always been about the hair, nails, makeup...the whole nine yards. Dressed to kill...even for a ten-minute trip to the market. Me? Chapstick (unflavored), levis and flipflops.

Sometimes...I think I should be taking queues from a few favorite reads. Crunching my creative. Cooking up tasty treats for the few & far between.

Should I go the erotic route and discuss my sex life? Teasing you with tales of things that go hum in the night? Setting up salatious stories about jaunts to my favorite E shop and the freaks that frequent the back room? Nah...I like to keep my kink in the closet. I mean really....who wants to hear about my inventory of size C batteries? Or...my weekly (failed) attempts to break the cute boy. Nobody likes a failure....and I'm certain that's a battle I don't want to win or report on should the unlikely event occur.

Perhaps a little potty humor for inspiration? Who doesn't appreciate potty humor? I suppose I could tell you about the dream I had the other night in which I took a massive dump. Huge. Felt ten pounds lighter. My brother-in-law would have been proud. In fact...I remember telling myself in the dream that I needed to take a picture to send to Ed. But....that's kinda gross....and to be honest...I don't want people analyzing my shit or the shedding of my detritus.

Photography? Eh....amateur at best. And...well...we've already covered closet kink. Oh...but hey....I accel at blurry shots of my fingers. I could post a collection of those...

Which...brings us to art. I was married to an artist. I'll just leave it at that.

Let's face it.... Not an ounce of creativity in these bones. I'm an accountant. Accountants are boring. Shit....I'm surprised we don't come with the following label. Warning...sleep inducing agent. Do not drive or operate heavy equipment in the company of an accountant. Seriously. Took me the longest time to figure out why the cute boy kept turning up the radio every time we got in the car. I thought he was trying to tune me out...but I don't talk much. Then it finally dawned on me....he's trying to stay awake. Poor thing.

I'm thinking of changing my name. Something a bit more representative of me....

Miss Mundane.

Stay tuned... I hear she's extraordinarily boring.

feed me

I don't even know where to begin...

Four great sessions.

Two days.

Witness to some amazing rights (and stand up barrels) by gaz & the christian.

A pre-session beating that almost resulted in a tantrum, pitched board and two hour drive back to the city.

Zippy lefts.

Long board love.

Zippy rights.

Bloody knuckles.

Laid back long board evening.

Early morning lefts.

Lost eye.

Fin gash/bruise to the foot.

A paddle to Timbuktu.....that scored head high long lefts and powerful rights....in the company of a cute boy.

Early morning commute traffic that consisted of an elk herd.

I'm beat.

Bruised.

Stoked.

Still grinning.

rewind

I knew as soon as my alarm went off....it would be one of those days.
I could hear the rain through the open door...

I could feel it coming...

Unanswered...calls.
Ignored...email.
The usual...argument.

The...

I'll have to get back to you...

And...

A friend informed me today that she was diagnosed with incurable cancer.
She's been referred to the best...

I would like to have this day over.

Except for this...

Pillaged by legomen.


Foot wars with my guy.


this part of today....I'll keep.

two peas...

...in a pod.

S....the other half that makes up my twin-ness.

I'm sporting the specs. She's sporting the six-month-old. This pic is couple years old.

She doesn't surf. Always giving me some lame excuse about big bitey fish. No problem....I don't ski. Okay...not entirely true. I snowboard...occasionally.

In a funk for a few days....I rang her up.

Our conversations are riddled with laughter...over absolutely nothing. And are often so obscure....even the most astute eves-dropper wouldn't know what the hell we were giggling about. Our parents gave up years and years ago at ever trying to crack our code. Instead....they resigned themselves to receiving our conversations in duplicate. No...not finished sentences. My parents were blessed. They got our conversations...twice. Instant replay. I would say something. Not five minutes later S would walk into the room and say the exact same thing. Then I would accuse her of being a twin...which always started the giggle-fest.

Anyway........today's conversation.....no different.

N: Hey....what's up?

S: Not much. Where are you?

N: At work.

S: What're you doing? (starts laughing)

N: Avoiding work. (starts me laughing) ....what's the name of the guy that was in...shit, can't remember the name of the movie...? (giggling) ....gets out of prison....looking for the guy that killed his daughter? Lots of gratuitous violence.... (extra giggles)

S: Terence (giggles) Stamp. The Limey. (more giggling)

N: Crap....I can never remember his name. Thanks.

S: Why?

N: No reason....just couldn't remember. Okay...back to work.

S: Later...(still giggling)

Yep....felt much better after that conversation. (giggles)

speaka duh english

50 meter pool
---------------

600 swim (choice)
400 pull

4 x [200 ez @ 4:00/ 4 x 50 @ 1:00 - breast; 0:55 - fly; 0:50 - back; 0:45 - free]

10 x 50 pull ez @ 1:05

200 kick ez

total = 3500 meters
.......................................................

No stoke for stroke.

Stroke sprints suck.

Fly sprints suck.

Especially when you're out of shape.

Sshhhh......

Can you hear it.......?

The ever-so-faint sound.........of a piano dropping.

See it?

Focus in on the 33.33 meter mark....you can't miss it.

Yeah.....the stroke set kicked my ass yesterday.

That's all you need to know.

sidelined

No spare eyes (after last week's contact debacle) and 25mph wind gusts kept me out of the water Sunday...which totally sucked. But...paddling out would have been an exercise in futility. (Just standing on the beach in the wind was a problem. Too much blinking...out would come an eye.) So..I took advantage of the gorgeous weather (minus the biting wind) to do a little yoga on the beach and hike the cape. Also got to play amateur photog with my new camera.

Sy & Thor...inside runners.

Unknown...unable to outrun the section.

Top o' the cape.

Backside blowout.

spell bound

minus tide...

famous last words...

50 meter pool

2 x [200 swim/100 kick/200 pull]

2 x [2 x 200 @ 3:40 (last 25 strong)/ 2 x 150 @ 2:50 (last 25 strong)/ 2 x 100 @ 2:00 (last 25 fast)/ 2 x 50 @ 1:00 (50 fast/50 ez)]

400 pull ez (finger drag)

300 kick ez

total = 3700 meters
..................................................................

Work kept me out of the pool for almost 3 weeks. Got in Tuesday for a slow stretch and felt like lead weights were strapped to my ankles. Ugh...

Today....I figured I'd get in and do another slow stretch.....a little pulling lsd. Dennis wasn't having it though...."It's an easy set...just don't do the fast parts fast....you'll be fine".

Yeah....right.

He knows I don't know how to do "easy".

I missed half the warm up......which means I was finally loose halfway through the main set. No more drafting. Crap...why can't I be satisfied following someone else's feet?

As I finished the workout and exited the pool....there stood Dennis....laughing at me.

"That was a nice slow stretch....eh Nance? Don't worry....I said the same thing yesterday and ended up doing 2000 fly."

Famous last words...

anticlimactic

That's the best way to describe....Tax Season.

A mathematical crescendo. Gradually building. Shifting gears. Without warning....evenings are filled. Saturdays spent. Sundays lost.

Paces pick up. Tensions strain. Tempers flare.

The Deadline....looms.

Then.....

Nothing.

The BIG day...here and gone...in the bat of an eye.

Almost....disappointing.

There are still numbers to crunch. Forms to fill. Returns to file.

Eh....you know what they say........

Death and Taxes...

sunday

Big and unruly with an incoming tide. Paddled out anyway. Fought the current. Found a couple of fun rights. Finished off another set of eyes. Yeah....it was that good yesterday. No complaints though. Water time....is water time.

four eyes

Seventeen days.....straight....behind a desk. Yesterday....they finally set me free. Now that's a good F... word. Sat and watched for awhile (yesterday) until it was finally time to get wet. The sun was shining. Easy paddle out. Good crew in the cove. And....as if my special order had come through....the left was working. Not my day though. Forty minutes in the water (damn those F... words) and I lost my first set of eyes. In I go....for the long (blind) walk up the beach....to the car. New set of eyes in....back to the water. Poor timing on my part. Thought I had the lull figured.....nope. Half way out....and in comes the clean up set. Three white water bombs on the head....and I was once again without eyes. Fuck. Another fabulous F... word. Unable to see....rode the white water in....as I was done.

Can't complain too much....

Sunny day.....crystal clear water....time away from my desk.

frenetic

nothing like adding insult...

driving in to work (on a Saturday) and some bastard is westbound up Burnside with a board on his rig

...to injury...

forgot my keys to the office this morning...had to drive home and get them

stay tuned....four days left.....I know lots of words that start with F....

frazzled

12 straight
4 to go

".....better win a hand...you're on a blitz...."

fffffffftttttpppppppppppppppppp.........................................

breathe

slow down girl...

photo courtesy of gaz