Embrace
Writing about an unpleasant experience is challenging — much more so than writing about a perfect, beautiful day. I would like my digital reflection of life to be happiness, adventure and deep authentic connection— but that is not what this article is about. Its about a concept in the Crossing Community called Embracing the Suck. Anyone who has voluntarily paddled in adverse conditions knows what its like to continue to push on through the Scheduled Suffering, being Bold in the Face of Fear, moving with Grace and Grit, holding the intention of Inspiring Every Breath, so that we can Cherish the Good Days— all monikers, and hashtags, used in the Piper’s Angels community to describe how we embrace the struggles experienced within the cystic fibrosis community.
I rode into the 2019 Crossing For A Cure season on the tailcoats of my first year with high expectations (this was my first mistake). I learned so much in 2018 and wanted to cultivate a better, more perfect experience. I wanted to curate an adventure that would blow the beauty and magic of 2018 out of the water; this is not how my Crossing season played out. I knew it was going to suck, but I thought the wording pertained particularly to paddling the open ocean, but the reality of that suck is deeper and more emotional, stretching from pre-planning stages to when my feet finally touched the Florida coastline.
Those that are closest to me know that I was a hot mess in the weeks leading up to the event. I was frustrated, anxious, and unhappy. I was ready for the whole thing to be over before we even got started; I was ready to drop the ball and not go at all. My teammates were a constant chatter of playful, fresh perspective and emotional support, mixed in with planning, training and fundraising; while my parents, generously, sponsored my trip, lifting the financial burden of the trip’s logistics off of my shoulders, as well as a steady voice of reason and stability as I moved from one melt down to another. In the weeks leading up to the event, I barely slept, caught a nasty cold and refused to embrace my current circumstances, continuing to strive for a different reality.
It started with the boat, quite possibly the most complicated logistical detail. When our team finally found a boat, we were stoked! I had been experiencing minor stress leading up to that moment with a line of thinking similar to: “Oh dear, what happens if we don’t find a boat? We won’t be able to go…” I met the captain and his wife at a committee meeting through one of my teammates, I paddled out to their weekend anchor spot and spent some time talking about what we are doing and what we need; it was my first time hiring a boat and my best efforts of communication fell short of relaying the scope of the event; my efforts to emphasize the importance of making time for us to train with the boat were too weak to be a priority and in May, a month out from the event I wanted to fire them; I was frustrated that we — the paddlers— had agreed to pay for the entire trip and the expenses were growing, we had not had a single practice or meeting with the captain as a team, we had not met or communicated with the extra four crew members and I was having weekly meltdowns from the anxiety. From there, our situation improved a bit: we had a practice run getting the boards from the water onto the boat — but I wanted more. I wanted to go out with the boat in the ocean, in the dark; I wanted to go out with the boat for a 10-15 mile distance paddle to practice paddling formations; I wanted to get all the crew members on the boat while we were paddling; I wanted too much and none of it happened. By the time we got to Bimini, I had run out of patience, tolerance and grace. I kept busy to hide from my feelings, but I was short tempered and inflexible.
I remember my Dad’s words during a meltdown two weeks out from the paddle, “You’re doing a good thing. I’ll do [anything I can] so that you can keep doing it. Just let me know.” Backtrack for a moment: my dad is the real MVP here, he volunteered countless hours hauling and storing packing materials, helping plan the beach landing, loading the container, spending the entirety of Father’s Day weekend in the sun helping ensure that the Beach Landing and Awards Ceremony ran as smoothly as possible, and at the end of the day forking over a wad of cash so that I would have one less thing to worry about. As the event drew near, the exorbitant cost of participation was piling up and I began to realize that participation is not sustainable for me at my current income level; in 2018, I was not responsible for fuel, customs fees, dockage or dockage fees and I had no idea what I was getting into financially— I had no idea that it costs more than $5000 as a team to make this work. (I’ll write a separate, detailed blog on the breakdown of actual expenses later).
In Bimini, I experienced a reprieve from the stress; I let myself get caught up in the flavor of the island and the excitement of the community as we overtook North Bimini— I actually got some sleep, I hugged so many amazing humans, and I found the overall flow of the event on the backend to be practical, organized and fair. We all had questions, needed things, had priorities and I watched Aiyana and Sean move through the sea of their own stresses and situations with a smile and a level of grace I couldn't find when dealing with my own drama and bullshit. The yoga classes I taught and took were smooth and easy, the paddle out rose ceremony was moving and beautiful, the beach launch was surreal and magical. In the midst of the chaos, I was finally able to connect with he core of the event: love through action to help CF families in need.
After the crescendo of excitement at the launch: check in, hugs, photos, and waves after waves of paddlers going off into the night, the paddle across the ocean itself was generally unpleasant. The seas were a confused roll from all directions and despite my best efforts to communicate the need for as little light as possible, the boat was well lit and I had a fierce case of vertigo. I’m not sure if it was from the diesel fumes or the heaving, fun house of multicolored lights, but I was sick before sunrise and spent my day vomiting across the Gulfstream from the boat while trying to hold down liquids, stay out of the diesel fumes, nap, and cheer on the remaining paddlers. Jennifer made it for several hours after I bailed, and Lindsay paddled 50 miles, more than half of the total crossing distance before coming aboard— I’m so proud of the two of them for holding fast in very clearly intense conditions.
When we finally hit the beach, I was so relieved that it was all over. The boat, the sea, the paddling, the drama — everything. On a scale of one to ten, my overall experience as a participant was a three. I’ve embraced that it sucked; it might suck next year too, but its for a good cause and I know that a day I the life of a CFer can suck much more than my petty experience navigating a trip to an island.
What I loved:
Training, paddling & mentoring
Teaching Yoga
Being a part of an amazing community of amazing humans
Hugging EVERYONE!
Helping Sean with boat acquisition
What would I change:
The captain I hire for 2020 will be more engaged; I’ll have clearer boundaries of what we as a team are paying for and what we expect in return to include practice time out on the water.
I’ll cultivate a more consistent yoga and meditation practice to adequately deal with the stress that is sure to pop up. I want to be more in control of my emotions and find a solution more useful than meltdowns.
Sponsorship to help shoulder the participation costs. 100% of our fundraising goes to the Piper’s Angels Foundation to help families with cystic fibrosis. My 2020 team will leverage the influence of Green Tara Yoga’s social media presence to support us financially as participants.
I really, really want to go to the Sapona Wreck & the Pigs— I want to create or join a group of people that want to sightsee off island.
I’ll rent a golf cart next time! It was really fun to ride around town, but also useful to have one when transporting the roses for the ceremony and back and forthing from the beach.
To read about my 2018 Crossing For A Cure experience CLICK HERE.
