Aloha friends,

I’d like to introduce to you a friend and client who has been brave enough to share her new adventures as a water woman of Maui. Suki is a special person who has conquered many physical challenges and recently, surprised herself as she discovered a new found strength on the ocean. Her story is touching, comical and I think we all can relate! Suki will be one of our inspirational guest speakers on January 9, 2010 at STAND UP For Women’s Health & Fitness.

Suki’s SUP

Suki Halevi came to Maui two years ago. Suki had never exercised regularly, but she started doing the workout routine that I created for her as part of my introductory training series. She was also among the nine women out on the water on my first Stand Up to Slim Down Saturday. Here’s her story—

Everyone has their life challenges. I’ve got numbness in my feet and legs, damage to my pelvic area and impaired balance, caused by a rare immuno-neurologic illness 22 years ago. No one can see my disabilities, but I deal with them daily. A big part of my ongoing challenge is learning that I can do a lot more than I think I can. That’s where SUP comes in.

I was as excited as a little kid the night before Suzie’s Stand Up to Slim Down Saturday, with a whopping 12’ borrowed board strapped on my car. Out beyond the breaking waves, I hopped up and instantly fell off the board. My vision of SUP heaven vanished as my inner voice declared, “You can’t do this.”

I wanted it so much, I pushed that dark shadow away, climbed back on the board, and stood up. I had a pretty good paddle, out with the Suzie and the women warriors of the waves, but the real test was yet to come. Two weeks later, I rented an 11’6” and headed back to North Kihei alone.

Sunday afternoon–

What a mess! Right after I picked up the board, the wind came up. I didn’t want to miss the chance to be on the water, so I drove back to our spot in North Kihei. As I got out of the car, I realized I had no place to put the car key. In a flash of inspiration, I took off my necklace, strung the key, and put it back on, making sure the screw-clasp was good and tight.

It was easy to get the board off the car, sliding it onto my head as I’d watched Suzie do. Back East, I learned to row a single scull, and you carry the boat on your head, so it felt familiar. But as I took the board down and turned it horizontal, the board became a giant windmill blade, catching every gust, with me as the pivot point. Looking for the path of least resistance, I coaxed the board down to the beach, getting spun around a few times by the wind. Charlie Chaplin goes SUP!

I finally reached the water. Then I got tangled up in the short leash, tripping and almost falling in the shore break. I walked a few more steps, jumped on the board and headed out, bobbing along on the choppy water with the wind blowing hard. No way. Having made it out, I turned around and came in. Suzie’s training guided me—I knew how to watch the sets, wait for a lull, and pull up on the leash to keep the rudder clear.

I staggered back up the beach, wrestling the board, with the wind winning every round. Somehow made it to the car. And stood there. Now what? I gathered my courage and tipped the board up onto my head. It rolled down my neck and off my back, barely missing a crash landing. I imagined a You Tube video, with everyone watching going, “Oh, nooooo!”

After standing there a while looking back and forth between the board and the car, I asked a man for help. “Can you show me how?” I asked, always eager to learn. He picked up the board and put it on his head. “It’s not that heavy,” he said. Yeah, right. (Workout time!)

As I turned towards the car, I discovered that the clasp of my necklace was so tight that I couldn’t undo it. I could bend down to unlock the door with the key still around my neck, but I sure couldn’t drive that way! I asked a woman walking by if she’d help me undo the clasp. “Oh, this happens to me all the time,” she said, with a kindly smile. Really??? I unlocked the car, grabbed the straps, lashed the board, and tumbled in myself, exhausted.

I’m going back to the beach tomorrow morning, before I return the board. Why am I doing this? I think I just like driving around with a board on my car!

Monday morning—

Got an email from Suzie last night, in reply to mine about my first solo SUP. Suzie wrote,

That is definitely called paying your dues, but you my dear handled calmly like a pro. I know that feeling, of . . . . oh . . . . . _ _it, what the heck did I get myself into!?! @@##

 Suki, I really know how you felt, like you wrestled a tiger, but you still won. I am so so so proud of you. You are learning about the ocean and about yourself. Very very good stuff.

I smiled, feeling surprisingly strong.

It’s a lovely morning. I ask my windsurfer neighbor what she does with her key when she surfs. Clips it to her bathing suit with a carabiner. Ya. I can do that.

Yesterday, the guy at the board rental place asked me how the waves were on the North Shore. “Ummmm, I dunno, I didn’t look.” Wrong answer! Today, I check out the waves at Ho’okipa as I cruise down the coast.

Driving through Paia, I notice all the other cars out in the morning with boards on top. I like this. Heading back to “our” spot, feeling good. Calm water, light breeze.

The moment of truth comes as I unwind the straps. Once the board is off the top of the car, it’ll be up to me to get it back there. What if I can’t do it? Not many people around to help me today. I stand for a few minutes, looking at the board. “I can do this,” an inner voice says. I bend my knees and take the board onto my head. I walk around the car and down to the beach.

Board on the sand. Stretch a little. Strap on the leash, pick up the paddle, lift the board by the handle–it feels almost familiar now. I walk into the water. Board’s afloat, and with an easy movement so am I. Out I go. The board rocks a little, but not much. I feel the ocean moving under me. Wow. On my knees, paddle across the board, eyes up as I hop to a squat then keep going, standing now. Paddle in the water. I hear Suzie’s voice say, “The paddle will help you balance.” My legs are trembling.

I once went on a night hike at a nature center, and the guide said, “Feel with your feet.” Looking up and out across the water, my legs are still shaky, but I feel with my feet as the board moves. I paddle a bit. I don’t feel as settled as when I was out with Suzie and the women warriors. I had six inches more board length then, wider too. But I like the 11’6″. I can carry it, and I’m standing. The steadiness will come in time.

I start to sing. The first time out, with Suzie, there were waves, and I sang over and over like a mantra, Gonna fly so high, on the waves and the sky, gonna fly so high, on the waves.

Now words are coming again. Inspired by Te Vaka’s “Our Ocean,” I sing,

This is my ocean, where I belong
This is my ocean, my feet know its song
This is my ocean, I’ll practice each day
And learn your music, wave by wave

I change “feet” to “heart” to “hands” and so on, feeling the ocean in all these places. I fall off the board several times, singing and laughing—This is my ocean, where I belong . . . SPLASH!

I sat on the board and paddled around for a while, as if the board were a light, flat kayak. I looked at the jagged reef through the water. I noticed how the wind or the current pushed the board and made it harder to turn on one side. I marked the spot on the shore where I’d come into the water, surprised by the downwind drift. I started to get comfortable hanging out on the ocean. Small waves forming. Time to head in, this was plenty good. I cruised in, sitting down. Hopped off the board and walked beside it. “Pick it up like a big purse,” I heard Suzie say. So I did, and walked out of the water with the board, just like that.

 At the top of the rise, on the edge of the grass, I confront the board one last time. I hear the voice of the man who helped me yesterday say, “It’s not that heavy.” I think of all the arm and chest exercises in the workout routine Suzie gave me. I think of my favorite workout fantasy—bench pressing a sexy guy! I find my center, energize my arms, put my hands on the board, and with one smooth, short lift, it’s up enough to duck my head under and take it the rest of the way. Yes! I walk over to the car with the board on my head and slide it onto the rack. Unclip the car key from the carabiner. Fasten the straps and tighten the board down. Done.

I walk back across the grass, so I can look out over the beach again. My arms shoot up into the air, fists flying high. “Yaaaaaaa!”

 Everyone has their own edge. The best paddler in the world has her edge. A beginner has hers. It’s a practice, for all of us. A daily practice of facing fear and going out on that edge, wherever it is. For the rest of the day, I felt strong, open, calm, clear and energized. I had a good day at work, got a lot done.

Everything’s different when the day starts on the ocean. And ends there too. On my way home after work, I took a long walk on Baldwin Beach. “This is my ocean, where I belong . . .”