Senior Citizen Splash Zone: Kayaking Becomes An Extreme Sport for the Over-70 Crowd
AI Generated cartoon of what Jim and I probably looked like struggling with our kayaks
In episode two of my Illinois Adventure Series (series is such an overstatement), I shared that I sustained a concussion from a biking accident (click for details if you happen to be remotely interested). At the fifteen-day post-concussion mark, I was much improved and anxious to find an athletic activity that did not threaten my head. The medical admonition I heard repeatedly was, “avoid re-injuring your head for at least six months in order to give it time to fully heal.” I was heeding this advice, contrary to what friends and family members might think.
My husband and I took a hiatus from grandparenting duties to travel from northern to Southern Illinois to spend time with my daughter and her husband. Our VRBO was situated on the Lake of Egypt and came with watercraft for exploring the lake. “Let’s go kayaking,” I proposed to my husband on the third day of our six-day stay. Jim and I have enjoyed water sports–swimming, snorkeling, and kayaking, in many coastal and waterfront locales so my suggestion was consistent with past vacation behaviors. And God Bless my accommodating husband who, post-haste headed to the small boat house to retrieve oars, life jackets, and the two single kayaks. We strategized how to safely get into the kayaks without getting wet. The steep incline of the backyard hindered our ability to launch from the shoreline. Fortunately, the lake house included a boat dock from which, we opined, we could get into the kayaks. “I’ll just carefully step down into the boat from the deck,” I said placing one foot inside the craft and the other on the stairs. Bad idea. The kayak, apparently suffering from an identity crisis, behaved like a rogue Kawasaki jet ski, and shot out from under me, plunging me into the Lake of Egypt’s muddy waters. My pink rubber Birkenstocks jackknifed from my feet and bobbed on the lake’s surface, mocking my misguided athletic arrogance.
Undaunted, I refused to accept defeat. My husband, however, would have happily retreated to the safety of our borrowed house. “We can do this!” I insisted. And we did. Ugly as it was, we managed to haul our 76- and 72-year-old bodies aboard the two kayaks.
“My legs won’t fit inside the boat,” my husband wailed. “Oh, you’ll be fine,” I empathetically responded as I happily skimmed away, delighting in the lightness of the vessel. We didn’t get far. Jim never was able to fold his long legs inside his boat. “You need a bigger boat,” hollered a voice from a neighboring dock. “Those are kids’ kayaks.” I couldn’t stop laughing. My husband felt vindicated. The process of exiting the boats was as ugly as mounting them. I’m certain once spectators were assured we we didn’t have a suicide pact, they were thoroughly entertained by the spectacle of two self righteous old people, cock sure of their ongoing athletic prowess. But you know what? I went out again the next day and the day after that.
It got easier. Vacationing with my children when they were younger, I used to preach the following adage: adventures may be fun, but they aren’t always easy.”
Kayaking at 72 on the Lake of Egypt was a blast but it wasn’t easy. But I was proud of myself for trying and not giving up. I think inviting experiences that challenge us is good for our aging brain and self image.
In my book, Be Brave Lose the Beige: Finding your Sass after sixty, I have a series of maxims, one of which says…
BBLB Manual of Maxims #18: Be Brave. Don’t accept physical limitations. Invent your own definition of athleticism.
So happy kayaking, biking, bowling, golfing, body surfing, skiing, or whatever fits your own definition of athleticism.