Pedaling past embarrassment
The fall colors are a little slow to develop this year, but I’ve noticed little patches of deep red and bright orange, and so I called up my friend and suggested we take a walk around a lake to do some early leaf peeping.
Once there, I saw the paddle boats out on the water.
“Let’s get one,” I said. Two nice teenagers helped us into the boat, a big step down to the seat. We rocked the boat, but were finally ensconced. We put the boat in reverse and pedaled into the open water.
It was lovely out there. We’d pedal and then stop, resting on the calm water as I dropped my hand off the side of the boat to swirl the water. I could feel my heartbeats growing farther apart as the rush of life faded into the perfect blue-sky afternoon.
I didn’t know what drama lay ahead as we returned to the dock.
I was about to be reminded that, no matter how physically fit a person may be, there are certain body maneuvers that are so rarely used and tricky that attempting them will turn you into a doofus.
We were met at the dock by the two workers. The one on my side extended his hand to help me out. The step from the boat to the dock was approximately 15 feet, known everywhere else on the planet as five meters, or maybe it was just one meter, but it was a big step. And when you attempt to step that high with one foot while the other foot is not on solid ground but on a wobbly, rocking surface, it requires the kind of steely glute muscles and circus-level balance that I don’t have.
Did I mention that my right leg is the one that had a knee surgery a while back? Thanks to physical therapy, I can cycle with that knee for 20 miles without problem and can do squats like a champ. But I’d never prepared that knee to winch me out of a rocky paddle boat.
I grabbed the young man’s hand, stepped that foot onto the dock above me, and with a noisy grunt or two, hoisted my other leg up as the boat listed to the starboard. I was now stuck in a waddly-duck posture, and for a moment it looked like I might fall backward into the boat.
Trying to steady me, the young man grabbed my other hand, and my forward momentum launched us across the dock. Another step would have put us in the drink while clasped in an embrace.
“So sorry,” I said as I regained my footing.
“No problem,” he said, and I thought, oh, boy, is this kid ever getting a nice tip when I pay.
Since then, I’ve been thinking about all the ways I use my body, and that a large step up from an unstable surface is something only required on docks and with boats. All those months of physical therapy neglected it.
Women this age talk about how they become invisible to strangers. If only I were invisible that day on the dock.
But the embarrassment didn’t deter me. Soon, another friend and I will be going to the lake. After telling her of my dock fumble, we decided on a different disembarkment: stand up with our backs to the dock, sit down on the dock, swing legs out of the boat and onto the dock, and then crab-scramble to our feet.
The young men will appreciate that. And so will our knees.