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By Tamia Nelson October 9, 2007
My horse-wrangling aunt still works as hard as
she did when she was a girl, but the years have taken their toll. "A long
day leaves me feeling like I was hit by a truck," she writes, "and on the
worst days I'd swear I was still under the wheels." Does this sound
familiar? It does to me. For many active folks who've seen the half-century
mark come and go — and for quite a few younger paddlers, too — no
day passes when something doesn't hurt. It takes us longer and longer to
plod across familiar portages. Our legs protest after just an hour of
kneeling. Our favorite canoes grow a little heavier each year. Sleep comes
slowly. Dawn arrives too soon. And landmarks that we once recognized at a
glance now appear as dim and distant wraiths, visible only through
binoculars.
The obvious conclusion? Life's "third age" isn't for sissies. Still, it
doesn't pay to cry about it. Consider the alternative. And don't put your
paddle in the box with stuff for the next garage sale, either. You may not
be as young as you used to be — who is? — but there's no need to
surrender to the calendar. You just have to …
Adjust Your Expectations
To begin with, leave roughing it to the Ironmen (and Ironwomen) who enjoy
that sort of thing, and who are young enough to bounce back from any
injuries. Smooth it, instead. It's more fun, and it puts less strain
on your frame. Start by listening to your body. It will usually tell you
when it's happy. Then do whatever you need to do in order to stay in your
Comfort Zone. Lighten up
on the portages, for example. Make two or more trips instead of one. Enjoy
the opportunity to take a longer walk in the woods, instead of cursing the
extra time it takes. After all, slowing down
has its compensations. You see more, for one thing.
The upshot? If any single principle of Comfort Zone paddling stands tall
above all others, it's this (with apologies to Simon and Garfunkel):
Whenever you find yourself moving too fast — and you won't need a heart
rate monitor to hear your blood pounding in your ears! — don't keep on
keeping on. Slow down or stop, instead. Better yet, anticipate problems
before they happen. Stop paddling before your arms are tired. Sit and
stretch before your knees protest. (Deep vein thrombosis doesn't just
strike air travelers, you know!) Beach your boat and take a walk on the
shore before your back contorts in a knot of pain. And make camp
early in the day, before you're exhausted. 'Nuff said, right? But
what if you injure yourself despite everything? That's easy. Concentrate on
getting back in the Comfort Zone ASAP. Don't tough it out and hope for the
best. Get advice from a pro — and without delay. A prompt visit to a
physician or physical therapist may cost you an afternoon (and a few hundred
bucks), but it can also save you from months of enforced inactivity, not to
mention years of misery. That's a pretty good bargain.
It's an easy prescription to follow, too. Learn your limits and adjust
your activities accordingly. Let comfort be your guide. But don't imagine
that this means collapsing in a La-Z-Boy® and never stirring again. It
doesn't. The process of adjustment isn't static. In fact, whatever your age
and condition, you can do a lot to expand your Comfort Zone. In other words,
no matter how far up life's mountain you've climbed and how strenuous the
trip you have in mind, the odds are that you can still …
Adapt to the Challenge
This won't appeal to the lazy, of course, but that shouldn't be a
problem. How many lazy paddlers do you know? I can't think of many. In any
case, adaptation is active, not passive. You can't buy strength and
flexibility at the HyperMart. Sweat equity is the only form of payment your
muscles recognize. Our bodies thrive on use, in other words. Use. Not
abuse. There's no need for heroics. Just regular, moderate exercise. And
that can make all the difference. Finding the time is the only tricky bit.
The key? Incorporate
your workout into your daily routine. Instead of driving off to the gym
and running on a treadmill with one eye on your watch and the other on a TV
game show, walk or bicycle to work. Or if that's impossible, at least walk
or bike part of the way. (If you're really lucky you might be able to
commute by canoe or kayak.) Instead of waiting for the elevator to take you
up to your office, climb the stairs. Eat lunch in a nearby park instead of
joining the line at The Bigger Burger, and while you're at it, walk to the
park! Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that this will always be a piece of
cake. Adaptation requires change, and changing the habits of a lifetime is
never easy — particularly in a world where cars take priority over
people. But it can be done, and it's worth the effort. You're likely to lose
a few unwanted pounds in the process, too. It's a loss
that most of us can bear. And this brings me to the bottom line: When
you hit the water, your body will thank you.
Have I painted too sunny a picture? Will there be potholes on the road to
Wellville? You bet! But once you've gotten your doc's OK and overcome the
time barrier, most exercise-related problems fall under the heading of minor
aches and pains. A case in point: Bad backs
keep many canoeists and kayakers on shore when they'd rather be out on the
water. Even paddlers with six-pack abs aren't immune. This is one place
among many where it pays to expand the scope of adaptation. You've worked on
your bod. Now it's time to work on your gear. Customize your kit to make
sure you keep paddling in the Comfort Zone. Runners are always tinkering
with their shoes, and cyclists spend hours (and hundreds of dollars) on
their saddles. (Amphibious
paddlers take note!) Canoeists and kayakers can benefit from the same
sort of commitment to comfort. Knee pads are must-have accessories for
canoeists, of course, but that's just the start. Is your bum sore? A new
seat for your sit-on-top
or kayak can make all the difference. Now let's get back to backs. Is your
lumbar region aflame with pain? A backrest for your canoe seat could be just
what the doctor ordered. (But be sure you check with your doc if you're in
doubt!)
These miseries don't end when you haul out, of course. Just ask any
voyageur you meet on the trail. Portages are probably the most difficult and
dangerous legs of any expedition. Luckily, walking sticks
and trekking poles can help. So can padded portage
yokes. And portage
carts — where they're legal — go yokes one better. Or do you
think carts are for wimps and wusses? Think again. Carts are a Canoe Country
tradition. The voyageurs used Red River carts to carry the load whenever
they could, not to mention rollers and rails. And don't spurn a helping hand
if one is needed. The voyageurs didn't. It sometimes took half the crew to
get a single canot de maître across a difficult portage. If it
takes two of you to portage your canoe, kayak, or
SOT, so what? You're in the best of company.
And what happens at the end of the day? The search for comfort continues
even then. Don't just squat on damp ground in front of a
smoky fire and grumble while your knees
crack in protest. That's no fun! Adapt your camp for comfort, instead.
Buy (or make) a portable camp chair. Then lean back and relax, and do your
cooking on an efficient
stove. (A bonus: camp chairs keep your bum out of the mud!)
While it's a Very Good Idea to chill out in camp, however, you don't want to
overdo it. Canoe Country days are often delightfully warm, even in fall. But
the nights are frequently cold — too cold for comfort unless you dress
for success. Pay special attention to your head, hands, and
feet. A
windproof
anorak and a fleece
pullover won't go amiss, either.
There's more at stake here than mere comfort. (But when is comfort merely
"mere"?) Cold muscles are tight muscles, and tight muscles are easily
injured. Conclusion? Comfort is too important to be ignored, and keeping
warm is critical. A hearty meal and a hot shower
at the end of the day help a lot. So do a warm sleeping
bag and a comfortable
camp mattress. In fact, these latter two items are essential. The
Comfort Imperative doesn't end when you turn in. A good night's sleep is the
key to enjoying the next day. You might even want to bring a pillow!
Adjust. Adapt. What's next? That's easy:
Improvise at Will!
I'll keep this short and simple. Only you know when you're in your
Comfort Zone. Treat every outing as an experiment. If something works for
you, contrary to any and all expert opinion, do it! And if something
doesn't, despite recommendations from all and sundry (including me), don't.
Keep an open mind. Learn from experience — yours and that of other
paddlers, as well. And never be afraid to improvise.
Comfort's a much overused word these days. But that doesn't mean it's not
important. Yes, the active life inevitably brings aches and pains in its
wake. But they're no reason to give up paddling. Listen to what your body's
trying to tell you. Then adjust your expectations. Adapt. And improvise.
That's the key to finding your Comfort Zone.
Copyright © 2007 by Verloren Hoop Productions. All rights
reserved.
One Foot in the Grave? Never!
Paddling Life After 50 —
Finding Your Comfort Zone
tamia@paddling.net
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