Celebrating a year of being a Mighty Woman

"Sue paddling her own canoe" Christmas ornament made by my artistic friend, Kirby

Today marks my one-year anniversary of being a Mighty Woman.

I can't believe it's been a year since I emailed a dragon boating coach in Portland (who turned out to be the amazing Jeanie Zinn!).

Unemployed and kind of lost, I was unsure of what would happen next. But I had just started a blog called "Paddling Her Own Canoe" to write about the adventures I planned to take. I emailed Jeanie, mentioned my blog and that I'd always wanted to try dragon boating. Could I come paddle with the team one time so that I could write about it?

How thankful I am that Jeanie said, "Yes! Can't wait to meet you!" or some other enthusiastic response characteristic of my beloved dragon boating coach.

None of my initial fears about paddling were realized. I haven't tipped over the boat, fallen in the water, dropped my paddle or drowned. Instead, I've had a year of adventures with the Mighty Women Paddling Club. I have the biceps to prove it--and I've shed 50 pounds.

We raced in five dragon boating festivals in the Pacific Northwest--and we've earned bling--dragon boat medals. In my living room I proudly display medals of all colors: one blue, two red, one white and one pink (for Row for the Cure).

During huli (safety) drills last summer, we purposely tipped over an outrigger canoe and then practiced righting the boat, bailing it out and climbing back in. We did it twice, and I would have done it more times if other dragon boat teams hadn't been waiting their turn. I thought it was more fun than Disneyland.

I've made great friends with these gutsy women who aren't afraid to try something new. With the Mighty Women I've had my first Karaoke experience, at a crowded bar in Portland. With a group of fellow paddlers, I belted out Aretha Franklin's "R-E-S-P-E-C-T." The old me never would have had the courage to do that.

The old me also wouldn't have had the courage to ride a zip line, try SUP (stand up paddle board), snowshoeing, contra dancing, swing dancing or dating again. I've done all of those in the past year, and am always looking for new adventures. When I mentioned to my mom that I'd gone to the roller derby, she thought I'd joined a roller derby team! Maybe I'd consider it, if I were 10 years younger.

Mostly, these women have helped me to learn something about myself: I'm stronger than I realize. When I'm dressed in my dragon boat gear and am carrying my paddle to practice through traffic in downtown Portland, I don't just walk. I strut with the confidence of a woman who has learned that I may not know what lies around the bend in the river, but I'm determined to enjoy the journey.

By the way, if you're a woman who yearns for adventure, come paddle with me and the Mighty Women. You'll be amazed how far you'll paddle and how it will change your perspective.

Paddle on!

Mighty Women paddling in 34 degree January day. I'm on the second bench, starboard side. I'm wearing the yellow rainjacket, green PFD (life jacket for you landlubbers) and blue hat. These strong women have become my dear friends.

Dragon boating adventures: Paddling from the front bench & being a "featherbutt!"

 

Yesterday my coach gave me the opportunity to paddle from the front bench. How honored I felt to experience paddling the dragon boat from the front of the boat rather than the back, where I sit during races. That's me with the dark hair, glasses and black shirt, sitting in the front bench, starboard side.

On our dragon boat, we call the paddlers in the back of the boat "the powerhouse" for their sheer strength. The paddlers in the front are called "the featherbutts" because it's often the smaller, lighter paddlers sitting in the front. What a boost to be included in the "Go, featherbutts!" cheer that rang out from paddlers in the back of the boat.

Being placed in the front of the boat, even temporarily on a trail basis, must mean that my coach thinks I'm ready to move my paddling skills to the next level, to learn a new, more finessed way to paddle. A new stroke. That mirrors what I've experienced in my life off the river too.

This past week marked one year since my life took an unexpected turn when I was laid off from a job I thought I loved. At first, I felt as if the wind had been knocked out of me and I couldn't catch my breath. I wondered how I'd survive.

Through the grace and generosity of others--and my own gritty determination deep down in my genes--I've not only survived, but thrived.

One dragon boating friend paid me a high compliment. "The saying 'What doesn't kill you makes you stronger' isn't true for most people," he said. "But for you, it is."

A year after being delivered what I thought was a fatal blow, I'm a healthier and happier woman. I've lost 45 pounds (so far!) and have gained confidence. I ditched truckloads of material things that were cluttering my life and am living a streamlined, simpler life.

I didn't just start a new chapter. It's a whole new book.

Even at work, I'm flexing new muscles and pushing myself further. For the past seven months, I've worked as a news coordinator in the newsroom at my city's daily newspaper. Through the coaching of my editors and fellow reporters, I've become a better writer.

Recently I was promoted to education reporter. Yesterday I had a my second front-page story, and today I had an interesting feature story on the front of the Sunday "Life" section. To celebrate my year anniversary of being laid off and beginning a new life in the newsroom, I made my Mexican brownies for the newsroom staff.

I'm flexing new muscles daily, both in the newsroom and on the water.Yesterday at dragon boat practice coach Jeanie worked with me to teach me this stronger, more complex stroke to allow me to pull more water so our boat can power through the water.

This stroke feels different. It's another new thing to learn, but I'm determined to learn it. I perched on the front bench, breathing out with each stroke. Reaching further. Digging deeper. And pulling water with my teammates as we skimmed across the Willamette River on a glorious October morning.

The experience was even sweeter when Debbie shouted encouragingly: "Go, featherbutts!" I'm a featherbutt!






.

The Trials and Tribulations of Online Dating

 

I have an embarrassing confession to make.

Recently while paddling my own canoe, I'd lost my way in the drama of online dating. Earlier today I disabled my account on a popular, free online dating site. It took conversations with my sister, a cousin and a girlfriend for me to realize how online dating was eroding my confidence and wasting my time. I spent far too much time trolling the online waters looking for prospective men when I could have been out doing something fun and experiencing life.

When I first dipped my big toe into the online dating pool, it had been 29 years since I'd been single, or as Bridget Jones would say, a "singleton" out there in the scary dating world. And how that dating world has changed in three decades!

In this all-new world of online dating, I first spent hours writing, editing and tweaking my profile. I'm a writer. That part was fun, but challenging. What words make a person appear attractive, interesting and witty--yet not desperate? Carefully choosing photos to upload to my profile ate up more time.

Then, I wasted more hours than I care to admit answering inane questions that were supposed to help find men who had shared interests and values. Most of the questions did not seem helpful in weeding out men who weren't good matches. And many questions were much too personal. I didn't answer those.

Soon men--dozens and dozens of them--began knocking on my virtual door. I'll admit that at first it was an ego booster to have so many men checking out my profile. But once I weeded out the too young, too old, bisexual, kinky and the worst category, in my opinion, "married but available," the numbers were much fewer.

Although I had specified that I was interested in men within a certain age range, my profile was visited by men spanning a much larger range, from creepy and way too young: "you're almost as young as my son," to creepy and much too old: "you're almost as old as my father!"

Distance factored into the weeding-out process as well. Even if they were as gorgeous as George Clooney (and they weren't), men hundreds of miles away, across the country or on a different continent were eliminated from the ever-shrinking pool.

Men began messaging me. Many were clearly online looking only for sex. Some were downright creepy. Late one night, I was checking who had visited my profile when a man instant messaged me and asked if I wanted company that night. Right-o. Uh-huh. I've never met this man, I don't know what his real name is, and he's hoping I'll give him my address so he can drive right over to my place late at night. Isn't there a slasher movie with that same plot? I told him "no thanks," and he excused his virtual self to go creep out some other woman.

Sometimes I'd work up the courage to email a particularly attractive prospect who had been rated a very good match for me. But many men didn't have the courtesy to reply. I felt "virtually" rejected. One guy at least had the kindness to respond, "I looked at your profile, but I'm just not interested." I appreciated his candor. It was better than being ignored, but I still felt rejected.

I met a handful of guys face to face, always in daylight in a safe, public place, like a coffee shop. I always drove my own car and never got into a car with a man until I'd met him a few times and had the opportunity to Google him and check out his background.

With my first few coffee shop meetups, there was no spark for either of us. We were too polite to say, "Look, it's been nice meeting you, but let's not waste any more time. Best of luck." The first man talked nonstop about his career and his kids, but he didn't ask anything about me. This was my first "date" in 29 years. I was tongue tied and not marketing myself as an Internet dater should. He likely was nervous too. It went the same with the next guy.

One particularly memorable meetup was with a man who was supposed to be 94 percent compatible with me. We had emailed a couple of times, and seemed to share many interests. But when I walked into the coffee shop and saw him, I'm sure my jaw dropped. The photos he had posted were probably 20 years old, and he had gained 50 or 75 pounds or more since those old photos had been taken. He hadn't been honest.

What I found more disturbing was that as we chatted, he seemed to have a negative attitude and difficult relationships with many people. But the last straw was when he pulled out his phone and showed me a photo of himself dressed as a pirate and said he'd like to see me again. (Ladies, he did NOT look like Johnny Depp!) I politely looked at his pirate photo and replied that I was taking online dating very slowly. Then I excused myself and sprinted to my car and made my escape. I wondered if he ever had a second date.

After that I learned to do more research by having phone conversations before we actually met in person. That helped to find if there was common ground. But how do you casually work into the conversation: "One last question: Do you have a pirate costume?"

I eventually did have more than one date with a few nice men. It was fun to have a man to go to a restaurant with, see a movie or a play, and visit farmers markets, museums and more. But after a time, those short-term relationships fizzled out.

Recently, my friend, Henry, and I were comparing online dating war stories.

"I should stop watching chick flicks like 'Under the Tuscan Sun,'" I told him. "I need to realize that I'm not going to move to Italy, be swept off my feet by a handsome stranger and live happily ever after in a Tuscan villa."

With his dry wit, Henry replied, "My love life has been more like the movie 'Titanic'. The last hour--when the ship is sinking!"

Since that conversation, Henry has found a wonderful woman on the same online dating site that I had tried. He's happy. He tells me not to take it so seriously, not to worry so much about it. Just let it happen.

Henry and many other friends have reminded me how hard I've worked to achieve my freedom, to change my life, to start anew. To paddle my own canoe.

Someday, maybe I'll meet a man who is a compatible paddling partner for my adventures. In the meantime, I'll keep paddling my own canoe and moving forward to my next adventure.

Meanwhile, tomorrow morning is my last dragon boat race for the season. Can't wait! Paddles up!

Letting Go of Fear & Stepping Off the Platform

Last week at my family reunion I had the opportunity to ride a zip line for the first time in my life.

Relatives of all ages, sizes and fitness levels were zipping down the hill. I was eager to try this adventure.

With my zip line harness and hard hat in place, I  climbed up a tree, hand-over-hand up the spikes  until I reached the zip line platform. A man at the top attached my harness to the zip line, offered his hand as I stepped onto the platform and told me to step off whenever I was ready.

I looked down below. And then I froze.

What the heck was I doing? Why did I think I could muster the courage to step off the platform into nothing but air? Would the line hold me? What if something went wrong?

Then I took a few deep breaths, just like Jeanie, my dragon boat coach, has taught me to do before a race.

In the seconds it took to breathe deeply, I began to think clearly. I remembered I wasn't the same fearful woman I had been two years earlier.

Now I'm all about being brave and trying new experiences. I've tried kayaking, SUP (stand up paddleboard) and snowshoeing. Three times a week I paddle a dragon boat with the Mighty Women Paddling Club. I've exercised regularly, made better food choices and have lost 45 pounds so far. In the process, I've gained confidence. But I still face fearful situations.

Earlier that morning I'd been swimming in the lake with cousins and siblings when I'd found the courage to climb up the diving board ladder and forced myself to jump off the diving board--something I had never been able to do. I jumped multiple times to convince myself I'd finally conquered my diving board fear.

Yet here I was, standing on the zip line platform and paralyzed with fear. I looked down. This was a LOT higher than the diving board. But I had a secure harness to keep me from falling. It was safe.

Taking some more deep breaths, I told myself, "You can do this."

I stepped off the platform--and began zipping through the air. Exhilarating! True, I screamed like a girl all the way down the hill, but I kept my eyes open and enjoyed the ride.

What fears are holding you back from stepping off the platform and experiencing your next adventure? Let go of your fear. Take some deep breaths. And then step off the platform. That first step is a doozy, but what a ride awaits you!

For my next adventure I'm considering windsurfing lessons.

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!