My Own Olympic Medals: Collecting Dragonboating Bling

   My cat, Anakin Skywalker, admiring my dragonboating medals.

The London Olympics are in full swing, and the world is watching.

Images of athletes standing on the victors' podium and proudly wearing their gold, silver and bronze medals around their necks fill our computer and TV screens and our newspapers. The athletes kiss their medals. They are so overcome with emotion that tears well up in their eyes. Heady stuff!

Now that I am a seasoned dragonboat paddler who has paddled in 13 races in three dragonboat festivals this summer, I can relate better to the elation of performing in an athletic event and having my coach ceremoniously drape a medal around my neck. It's a feeling of accomplishment recognized.

This summer, I have collected three medals--gold, silver and bronze--for my team's performances in dragonboat races.

One of my editors at work asked me to bring my medals to our weekly team meeting. I did. I felt like a school kid during "show and tell." No one clapped or cheered. But my fellow journalists dutifully passed around my medals and said "cool" and other affirming adjectives.

I don't have a trophy case, so at home I have draped my medals from an antique floor lamp visible as I come through my front door and enter my living room. My friend Lee has been dragonboating for a few years and has collected an impressive array of medals. He is a woodworker and has made a large cutout of a dragon boat which he has secured on his wall. From this dragonboat hangs his collection of colorful medals. It's very cool.

Why are my dragonboating medals so meaningful? They are the only athletic medals I've won. Ever.

I'm not known for my athletic prowess. The only other time in my life I've been recognized for an athletic accomplishment was during my freshman year in high school when I received a track and field trophy for "most inspirational." I did not receive this trophy for my astounding performance. It's a pity trophy.

With my friends BaLinda and Linda, I had joined the track team for our rural high school. Anyone could join the team. The coach needed bodies to fill the events and qualify for track meets. No one was turned away. No one. Not even a 95-pound nonathletic farm girl.

I did like to run. Let me clarify the difference between enjoying running and being an accomplished runner. I never won a race. But I always showed up for practice and track meets, performed to the best of my nonathletic ability and cheered on my teammates. For this, I was awarded a trophy. Yes, it's a pity trophy, but it has a figurine of a girl running and is engraved with my name. More than 30 years later, I still display it on the bookshelf in my bedroom.

Most adults will not feel the elation of competing in an event and having a medal ceremoniously placed around their necks. I suggest that adults would be happier if medals were awarded for accomplishments we perform as parents, as employees and as citizens.

Why don't we have a gold medal awarded for the hours performed carpooling kids to their soccer games and standing on the sidelines for hours--year after year--in the relentless rain?

Wouldn't it be satisfying to receive a medal for all the nail-biting hours of teaching a teenager to drive? That's certainly a medal-worthy life event. The teenager is awarded with a driver's license and freedom, but all the parent receives are an increased insurance premium and sleepless hours late at night awaiting the safe return of the kid and the car.

What medal-worthy accomplishments have you performed? Give yourself a pat on the back. Then imagine yourself standing at the victors' podium, a medal draped around your neck.

Let me tell you from my own experience. It feels amazing.

Photo: Here I am with my dragonboating team, the Mighty Women, proudly displaying our bronze medals at the Kent Cornucopia dragonboating festival.

Paddling Fearlessly toward Tomorrow's Dragon Boat Race

Here I am with the Mighty Women Paddling Club during our first race

 in Tacoma last month. I am on the starboard side, second from the back,

with the dark hair and red hat. 

Tomorrow is my second dragon boat race with the Mighty Women Paddling Club.

I hope I remember everything I've learned in the past five months of paddling three days a week with my team.

In my head I can hear coach Jeannie Zinn barking instructions:

"Sit forward!"
"Get off your bench!"
"Reach!"
"Straighten your arms!"
"Rotate to your bench partner!"
"Look forward!"
"Use your legs!"
"Use your core!"
"Give me ten powerful strokes--now!"
"Breathe!"
"Finish it!"

Paddling a dragon boat is much harder than it looks. There is so much to remember. The most important thing is to paddle in unison with the rest of the team.

When I first started paddling in early February, my biggest worries were that I would fall out, capsize the boat or drop my paddle in the water. Thankfully, none of those missteps have happened.

Six months ago, I was obese and incredibly out of shape. The only exercise I got was waddling to the fridge to get more ice cream. For two decades I had taken care of my family, a house and the needs of my job. But along the way to midlife, I'd forgotten how to take care of me.

As my crumbling marriage and demanding work life became more stressful and I became more unhappy, I packed on the pounds. I am only five foot two, so any extra weight is noticeable.

I felt so uncomfortable with how I looked that I didn't want my picture taken.

I didn't like to be out in public because I imagined other women looking at me--the fat woman--and thinking: "Thank God I don't look like her!"

In October I was laid off from my job. It was sobering to begin a job search as an obese, middle-aged, unhappy divorced woman with low self-esteem. I have an impressive resume, but once I got a face-to-face interview, who would hire me? I certainly wouldn't.

So I started moving my body. I joined our community gym and started doing 30 minutes of cardio a day, and soon ramped it up to an hour a day. My workout buddy, Henry Sessions, urged me forward.

I bought exercise clothes and a yoga mat. On January 1, with great difficulty, I managed to do 20 crunches. It was excruciating. I added five crunches a day until I was doing 200 crunches each morning. Yesterday, the song on my ipod was particularly long, and I did 250 crunches with relative ease.

I dusted off my weighted hula hoop, a piece of exercise equipment I had used a couple of times and then had promptly stuck in a closet. I started hula hooping 15 minutes every morning while listening to my ipod. I had a blast! Since January 1, I have spent 12 to 15 minutes a day hula hooping. What a fun way to change my body, my outlook and my life!

In February, after losing 25 pounds and gaining some courage, I showed up on the dock for my first dragon boating practice. After that first paddle, I was hooked. I love being on the water and the camraderie of my team. I even love Coach Jeannie barking orders at me.

In the past six months, through mindful eating, dragon boating, doing cardio, crunches and working out daily with a weighted hula hoop, I have achieved the following:

• I have lost 40 pounds.
• I have trimmed 3 inches from my waist.
• I have trimmed 7 inches at my naval.
• I have trimmed 4 inches at my hips.
• I have trimmed 2.5 inches from my upper arms.
• I have trimmed 2 inches around my knees.
• I have trimmed 1 inch around my calves.
• I am wearing clothing that is four sizes smaller.
• I no longer wear "extra large."
• I have firm biceps--and no upper arm wiggle!
• I have a trim, strong core!

I look and feel better than I have in 15 years. I feel strong, healthy, confidant. Even sexy! In short, I found myself again.

In only six months, I've changed my life.
Tomorrow is my second dragon boat race, and I can't wait!

I'm no longer afraid of capsizing the boat or dropping my oars. I'm not afraid of anything anymore.

The best news is that if I can do it, so can you!

Paddle on!

Gratitude in my Garden

My strawberry pot wintered well, thanks to the

good care from dear friend Holly Chamberlain.

Have you ever become so overcome with gratitude that you had to sit down and take a moment to reflect on your good fortune? In our fast-paced lives, I don't think we do that enough.

Sometimes I'm so busy working with my head bent to a task--writing an article under deadline, running errands or pulling stubborn weeds--that I forget to look up and take account of all the good that has come to me.

Before I realize it, I've spent the whole day working on tasks instead of enjoying the moment. Do you do that too?

A few minutes ago I was pulling weeds and picking strawberries in my little garden when I popped a fresh berry into my mouth. When I bit into that berry, I was so overcome with gratitude that I had to grab my laptop and sit down to write.

I have so much to be grateful for that I must share it before I burst. Or worse, before I forget that I am grateful, and instead just continue with my day.

You see, not that many months ago, I didn't think I'd ever have a garden or a place to grow strawberries again. That little berry was enough to nearly bring me to tears.

Not even six months ago, I was unemployed, had to sell my house, downsize, move into a tiny apartment a week before Christmas--and I gave away probably a third of my possessions.

But it was even harder to give up my yard and garden including my fragrant lavender hedge and herbs. I was moving into an apartment with no lawn or even any private space outside where I could sit or garden. But it was cheap, and if I carefully managed my money, I could afford the rent.

I'm a country girl, and even though I've lived in a the city a long time, I still take great comfort in spending time outdoors, even if it's just a few minutes in my garden, getting my hands dirty, pulling weeds and tasting juicy strawberries.

Slowly, after the big upheaval at the end of the year, I've been getting a life back. It's not my old life. It's a completely new life, and that's okay.

For the first three months, I lived in a tiny apartment in a busy commercial district. It overlooked a back alley with garbage and recycling bins visited day and night by people down on their luck. I didn't often open my blinds because I lacked privacy and didn't always feel safe. Sleep was fitful.

I was lugging my laundry outside, around the building and down a dark flight of stairs into a dark basement laundry room. Sometimes the outside door wasn't locked and I feared for my safety.

Fast forward five months from the horrific move and I am happily employed at a great job, writing for our local daily newspaper. Who knew I would love working in the newsroom so much? I am grateful that I have such a cool job and I get to work with great people.

Now I've settled into an incredible vintage duplex with natural light. First thing each morning, I open my curtains and greet the new day. I am grateful for being able to open my curtains. I am grateful for feeling safe and that I'm sleeping at night.

My duplex even has my very own private basement laundry room, so I bought a used washer and dryer. No more schlepping my laundry outside in the rain or the dark. Gratitude!

Out my back door I find solace in my own petite yard, patio and garden. Friends have shared plants from their own gardens. I have planted herbs, strawberries, sunflowers and lavender.

 I'm grateful for my garden. I'm even grateful for my strawberries, which are bearing delicious fruit right now.

This new life is beginning to feel like home.

Strawberries from my garden garnishing my French toast

made with Dave's Killer Blues Bread--dusted lightly with

powdered sugar--and served on my English Spode.

Gratitude can be delicious! Try it!       

A tattered life held together with duct tape and Gorilla Glue

My driver's side mirror secured to my Subaru with duct tape and Gorilla Glue.

For the past five months, my driver's side mirror has been secured to my Subaru with duct tape and Gorilla Glue. Clinging to what remained of its structure, that broken mirror was a metaphor for the sorry state of my life: laid off, forced to sell my house before it went to the bank, downsizing in a hurry and trying to figure out how to function in this new "normal."

On Christmas Eve I knocked the mirror loose when I had a too-close encounter with a support post in my storage unit's parking garage. I was retrieving the most basic Christmas trimmings--the Christmas stockings of my two young adult children and a small collection of Nativity sets, including those made by the kids when they were wee ones.

Just a week earlier, with the help of many friends and family, I had moved from my three-story house to a Lilliputian one-bedroom apartment. I was settled in enough that I was cooking Christmas dinner for my children and we were opening gifts together on Christmas afternoon. Despite all the turmoil, I was determined to create some new Christmas memories with my kids.

With Christmas boxes in hand, I climbed into my car and waved at the storage facility attendant who was waiting for me to leave so he could close up shop and go home to celebrate with his own family. He already had shut one of the gates and was getting ready to close the last gate. I put my car in reverse and WHAM!

My poor mirror was broken but it wasn't shattered. In fact, on a cursory glance it didn't look damaged at all. But it could no longer function in the way it always had. It could no longer move to give me a clear view of what was coming up behind me. Again, a sad metaphor for my life.

I think I said the "eff" word--which is not usually part of my vocabulary. Then I drove to my new apartment and prepared for Christmas with my children.

Getting the mirror repaired wasn't an immediate option. My car insurance deductible is $500. I was unemployed and didn't want to claim the boo-boo on my insurance anyway.

I took my car to an auto body shop and explained my circumstances. The kind man didn't have the heart to tell me how much it would cost to repair it, but he did say that my best option was to wait until I was employed again and then to find a used mirror at a junk yard. He instructed me to gently take the mirror off, put drops of Gorilla Glue on the touchpoints and then secure it with duct tape. So I did.

Two months later, I got a job, but still didn't have the funds for a junk yard mirror. So the duct tape remained. Thankfully, an acquaintance asked me to write a freelance article for a trade publication. I had checked with my trusted mechanic, and the cost to buy a junk yard mirror and install it was roughly the amount I was being paid for the article.

Yesterday, Hoesley Eco Auto replaced the broken mirror with a lovely junk yard mirror that looks exactly like the old one. With the touch of a button from the driver's door, I can move the mirror and get a clear view of what's coming up behind me.

Since my Christmas Eve boo-boo, my life has improved considerably. I have a great job where I am using my writing skills, and I am valued and respected. I recently moved from the tiny one-bedroom apartment to a World War II-era duplex with charm, space and natural light. It feels like home.  Through mindful eating and paddling a dragon boat three times a week, I have lost almost 40 pounds.

 I am keeping the duct tape and Gorilla Glue because who knows when my life might need a minor repair? But for now, the view ahead and behind is promising.

My first dragon boat race: two days away!

My first dragon boat race is Saturday--only two days away. I'm tingling with anticipation at the opportunity to test the skills I've been honing all these months.

In January, when I emailed the Portland Dragonsports organization I said something like: I am a writer, and for several years have wanted to paddle on a dragon boat team. I think I'd like to write about it in my blog, Paddling Her Own Canoe.

How thankful I am that coach Jeanie Zinn of the Mighty Women team was the recipient of my email! She responded simply, "Why don't you come try it out and see if you like it?"

I did like it. In fact, I loved it. I'm in my element around water. I've paddled kayaks, canoes, rafts, innertubes, but never a dragon boat. I'd never even seen a dragon boat race.

Paddling a dragon boat makes me smile. One night during practice, Jeanie laughed and called out, "Susan, you're smiling too much! You must not be paddling hard enough."

"I can't help it. I'm having so much fun!" I called back up toward the front of the boat.

Dragon boating has enriched my life in so many ways. I now have this whole team of 20 other women who like to paddle and have adventures. I haven't been on a sports team since high school, when I really sucked at both track and basketball. I like hanging with women who aren't afraid of pushing themselves physically. Being a Mighty Woman has opened doors to new friendships with some amazing women. I plan to tell many of their stories in this blog in the coming months.

Dragon boating has changed my physique. Through mindful eating and paddling a dragon boat two to three times a week since January, I have lost 36 pounds--and many inches. I still have some weight to lose, but I am so close to my goal that I know I will reach it. I am determined.

I am more confident than ever. My biceps are something to behold. I can wear sleeveless shirts--and none of that embarrassing lower arm wiggle occurs. I am in the best shape I've been in for decades, probably since I was a 21-year-old college student who regularly ran, played tennis and handball.

Dragon boating has improved my balance, my breathing, my focus. My life!

Our first race is Saturday. I can't wait!

Lena Sessions: Reaching for High Adventures on the Pacific Crest Trail

Let me introduce you to Lena Sessions, an adventurous young woman who definitely is paddling her own canoe. Lena, 24, radiates enthusiasm and embraces challenges. She has traveled to more than 20 countries in Europe, South America and Asia.

Lena has just embarked on the biggest challenge of her life. On April 26, she and her friend Adriana began their journey hiking the Pacific Crest Trail, which stretches 2,663 miles from the Mexican border to the Canadian border. They expect to spend five months hiking the trail.

She is capturing her thoughts in her blog, Honey Bear Hikes. She also is raising money for SheJumps.org.

In her blog, Lena writes: "Every mile I hike is one dollar donated to SheJumps, a non-profit organization that provides community and support for more women (like me) to experience the outdoors. Please consider a donation and help me reach my goal of hiking 2,663 miles and raising $2,663 for SheJumps."

I had the opportunity to meet Lena at my church, Camas Friends, when she was visiting her dad, Henry Sessions, shortly after she returned from her backpacking trip in Nepal. I peppered her with questions about Nepal, and she shared some of her adventures with me. Before Nepal, she had spent the summer working in Alaska, shuttling tourists around and backpacking when she could.

Lena was only seven when her dad took her on her first backpacking adventure. "I had my own little backpack," she said. "We hiked one mile in and camped."

She has been camping and communing with nature ever since.

"Being out in the woods answered so many questions for me," Lena said. "I love the trail culture, meeting interesting people and seeing beautiful scenery along the way." 

She first began considering backpacking the arduous Pacific Crest Trail after her college graduation when she and some friends backpacked along the Colorado Trail.

Here is Lena's advice to girls or young women who are considering trying something new or scary: "If you have an idea in your mind--something you're really excited about--whatever idea you have is probably something that will bring you a lot of joy. Just starting it is the scariest part. Hiking is just putting one foot in front of the other."

But planning a 2,600-mile backpacking trip was a new challenge for her. Deciding how much clothing and gear to carry on the trip took much consideration and research. She blogged about her decisions here.

"The more weight you carry in your backpack, the more pressure on your joints, so you want to make your load as light as possible," Lena said by phone just a few days before embarking on her journey.

When Lena researched the PCT she found that from every two to seven days, they will be near a town with a post office or a little store to purchase supplies. So she mailed herself a new pair of hiking shoes every 400 miles along the trail.

"When you start backpacking, there's a sense of simplicity. You discover you really don't need much to be happy. Backpacking is a good reminder of that," she said.

She added, "In my life I have been blessed with many inspiring friends and mentors who have made it possible for me to undertake the Pacific Crest Trail. As a way to express my gratitude for these wonderful people, I am raising funds to benefit SheJumps, a nonprofit organization that provides young women with opportunities to test themselves in the outdoors. Finishing this trail with the knowledge that my efforts have provided support for other women to reach their potential will make this experience worth it for me."

If you'd like to donate to SheJumps on Lena's behalf, click here.

Finding Direction with a Life Coach

Almost three weeks ago, I moved to what I have come to call the Duplex of my Dreams. Although many boxes still wait to be unpacked, I have tidied my new home so that it's welcoming,

Gratitude washes over me as I sit cross-legged on my sofa and look about my new living room. Built in the 1940s, my duplex has ample natural light via corner windows, gleaming hardwood floors, picture molding and a charming wall of built-in bookcases. It's the perfect backdrop for my ecclectic collection of antiques and finds from estate sales and thrift shops. It's cozy and comfortable.

My new life feels comfortable too.

Having settled into my new job in the newsroom of our daily newspaper, I'm learning to be a faster, better writer due to the constant deadlines and excellent editors. I am better understanding what makes a good story. Today I pitched a feature story idea to my editor, and he not only said yes, but also asked me to write it for the Sunday paper. Hooray!

This opportunity wouldn't have happened if I hadn't found the courage to ask if I could write the story. Summoning that courage is a direct result of my recent life coaching sessions with Amy Earle from the other Vancouver, the one in Canada.

Over our ten weekly sessions via Skype, Amy helped me to find direction, to set goals and to make a plan to achieve them. She kept me on track and helped me to forge a path through some dense underbrush that was obscuring my vision.

I'd never considered a life coach, but last fall, when I had been laid off and needed to find another job, sell my house and find a new place to live, I needed direction. Through a listserve I subscribe to, I discovered an amazing deal on 10 life coaching sessions that were being offered to a small number of people. I quickly emailed my story to the life coaching coordinators, and I was selected to get this super-duper deal.

In January shortly after settling into my dinky one-bedroom apartment, I started my life coaching sessions. I had my last life coach session here in my new home exactly a week ago.

Because of Amy's guidance, I have a clearer idea of who I am and where I am heading. She helped me create a map to ensure that I keep moving forward, taking one small step at a time toward my next great adventure.