Finally, it’s just us

Before our team pushed off from the dock in Sausalito, we spent a week together getting everything finalized. We were going to spend an unknown length of time living at sea and there was still a lot of unchecked boxes to ensure we were safe and as comfortable as possible (I know, laughable for most).

We purchased last minute items like fresh water containers, a garden knee pad that was used to keep our jet boil steady while boiling water, base layers and water proof socks for what we thought would be a wet first few weeks, clothes pins to hang our clothes, small containers with lids in case we needed to vomit while in our cabins, and for some reason, I needed deodorant too.

While shopping at Target the week prior, I found myself in the hair dye aisle and visiting lululemon to replace by broken fanny pack. As if I needed my hair touched up and a purse in the middle of the ocean.

Clearly, I was uneasy.

Our original launch date was scheduled for June 19th, but was pushed two days because of huge wind and waves that would make the first week at sea more unpleasant than it was already going to be.

The storm system off the coast began to lift and a firm date and time was selected. June 21st, 7am PST would give us the best conditions to ride the tide under the golden gate bridge and be on our way towards Aloha.

A week prior to our departure, I was under the impression that everything for our boat preparation was complete. It wasn’t. We were still awaiting the arrival of a spare set of oars, we needed a tall bow light (so boats can see us at night), and the list went on and on. I envisioned spending this last week on land journaling, writing postcards to my friends and family, sitting in the hot tub and relaxing. I wrote 4 postcards. There just wasn’t time for anything personal and the pressure to always be contributing to the team was real.

My family (sister, husband and daughter) arrived at 1pm the day prior to our departure. I didn’t mind being in a car for two hours so that I could get away from the anxious energy of our team’s preparation and a never-ending to-do list.

Fast forward 17 hours and we were on the dock. There was nothing left to do but hug our people, pee in a regular bathroom one final time and leave our Birkenstocks behind.

I didn’t want to stop hugging my sister, Jason or Reese. The danger of crossing the deepest ocean in a 29 foot, human-powered boat had hit me.

There was no saying, “I’m out” any longer. What the literal fuck am I doing. I can still drop right back into those body sensations. They felt so scary.

As Jason and I walked on the dock and held hands, my stomach was doing flips and I got quiet. I hid tears behind my sunglasses and squeezed his hand tighter as he said,

“it’s like when I proposed to you.”

“what do you mean?”

“I knew it was a good idea…I knew you could do it.”

(for background, Jason proposed to me at the finish line of the Ironman World Championships in Kailua-Kona, Hawaii)

“I knew you would finish the race. This feels just like that.”

I still tear up thinking about him sharing his feelings with me in that way. The work to get to the start line has been riddled with so much work behind the scenes. Nobody but my rowing teammates and Jason know the demands and the drama from the past year.

During the past year, my marriage was headed for divorce. An MRI revealed bulging discs at L3/L4/L5. My yoga studio is the stable income for my family and everyday I received a scathing email that a client didn’t know they signed a contract and demanded their money back. Meanwhile my teammates and I completed First Aid/CPR, navigation, marine radio operations, sea survival, and coordinated training time together to get a continuous 40 miles together on the boat on a coastline that is always windy AF.

This was more than I thought I was taking on when I said yes to this.

And…the noise from the outside.

“I don’t like that you are doing this,” says a long time friend.

“She’s irresponsible to be doing this as a mother,” says a client.

“You haven’t been out past the Channel Islands?” says everyone that has been on the ocean.

“Are you in denial of what you’ll face out there and your lack of experience?”

Why does the negativity stick like velcro and the positive encouragement slide off like butter on teflon?

I gave my family their final hugs, turned over our buoys and sandals and on the count of three our land support shouted “see you in Hawaii!”

Three of us got on the oars. DJ was hand steering.

I smiled behind tears. All of us did.

And then, it was just us four.

Finally.

And from then on…it was easier than all the months it took to push off.