Kayaking anybody?
Hi there. Happy June y’all. Over here, that means it’s inflatable kayak season. Yes, you read that right. INFLATABLE. To me, that’s puncturable, sinkable, not good. To my husband Dan it’s “yeah, man, let’s do this!” He looooooovvvveessss to get out on the water – the lakes and rivers that are close to where we live. He’s an athletic and adventurous dude who loves to be in the nature, hike, and bike and do all the things. And he’s great at all of it.
Me, not so much. While I try, I’m just not your nature girl. A rocky trail, a spider, green stringy yuck in the ocean, a fish, a pointy mountaintop, no thank you. Twelve minutes in the sun, and my skin turns blotchy kaleidoscope red. Dan once asked me what I’d do if I ever agreed to go fishing with him and actually caught one on the line. I told him I’d throw the whole pole into the water and head to Starbucks for an emergency latte.
To quote Goldie Hawn in the infamous film Private Benjamin, I’d rather “wear my sandals and go out to lunch” than do stuff in nature. #shoppingeatinghavingamassagenowyouretalking #goodwearealldifferent
You get it.
So, you can imagine my quandary when, without thinking it through, I asked him what he wanted to do on his birthday (May 31), and he said: “Go kayaking.”
I should have known. Still, my response:
Gasp. “ON THE ACTUAL WATER?” I asked, horrified. He nodded yes.
“IN THE BLOW-UP BOAT?” More horrified. Another nod.
“THE ONE YOU FILL WITH AIR USING A VERY LOUD TOY PUMP AND OARS YOU SCREW TOGETHER AND PRAY DON’T FALL APART?” Horror overload. Another nod.
There it was. We were going. After all, what else could I do? I couldn’t deny the man it took me 42 years to find. Say, “How’s about instead of going inflatable kayaking on this gift of an 80-plus degree birthday where we might very well plunge to our death (well, okay, it’s a pretty shallow lake, but STILL), we have lunch and shop and I’ll get myself a little something pretty while you watch dog videos on your phone and then we’ll come home and hunker into another episode of “This is Us” on Hulu (we’re on Season 4, don’t tell me!) and you’ll rub my feet and then we’ll go to sleep.”
And so off we went to the lake or river or whatever. A body of water that is not my bathtub. After he blew up the “kayak” and I rolled very ungracefully into it (think dead body being pushed into a raft), and then he got into it like a dancer from Swan Lake, and then pushed us off the shore and we rowed together, I could feel my rigor mortis-like frame starting to soften.
I had to admit: Sitting there, under the clear blue sky, in a less-tenuous-than-I-first-thought boat, moving slowly and gently along the water, under a bright sun and a light breeze, was kinda lovely. And by the time we were an hour in, I had applied sunscreen 13 times and fully let go to the idea that anything bad would happen. To the contrary, it was delightful. As was the smile on my husband’s face when I suggested we do it every weekend.
My point is this: Sometimes, life can surprise us if we let go and say yes. Release self-imposed drama, fears, limiting beliefs, and negative expectations, and instead, open up to the idea that come what may might very well be awesome.
My husband is still beaming, which is the gift that keeps on giving for both of us. He’s so happy that I said yes. And sure, you’ll never see me hauling my ass up a mountain, wearing a backpack the size of a toddler, cooking grits over a campfire in a national state park, or riding in the Tour de France. But floating on the water with my person and a very large, easily squeezable tube of sunscreen (maybe even a spray pump?)? Every weekend baby. Every weekend. xo
