Creative Nonfiction by Kandi Maxwell

I want to stand on my paddle board. Last year, I attached the seat, paddled my way across the smooth surface of the lake sitting kayak style. Gliding through the water in those early mornings brought tranquility as the sunlight twinkled across the lake. A warm, musty scent filled the air. Kayaking was delightful. And yet, I crave a challenge. The joy of reaching towards my edge. 

A lifetime of adventure sports like rock climbing, backpacking, backcountry skiing, and mountaineering, have given me a passion for the process. I will possibly fail. But that’s not the point. Especially now that I’m in my 70’s.  

I’ve had both hip replaced, so I’m cautious. I have Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome. It means my blood pressure drops with movements, especially moving from the floor to standing. Dizziness is the consequence. 

Last summer, I was less than a year out after my last hip replacement. My board was not fully inflated—soft rather than rigid. I had no instructions on the proper way to stand on the paddle board. My first attempt ended with a plunge into the lake totally submerged. I swam up to the surface. My hair stuck to my face. Water filled my eyes and nose. After gaining my composure, I easily swam to the board, but climbing back on was difficult. I paddled to shore laying on my stomach a bit humbled. This summer, I plan to master my stand before I return to the lake.

So, I practice my moves on the floor. Fairly easy: I begin on my hands and knees, step my right foot under my body, bring my left foot underneath—both knees bent. Then, I rise to a standing position. This is supposed to happen smoothly in one motion.

Later, I practice on my soft bed. Repeat my moves, but I wobble. This is good, more like balancing on wavy water. I haven’t fallen off my bed yet, so soon I will add my paddle to my practice. It’s early February. Plenty of time to allow my body to build muscle memory.

I imagine my younger, adventurous self watching how I now struggle to stand on a paddle board. Such a simple move, but I believe she’d be proud, because really, I am that same person. The one who is willing to take the risk, willing to keep trying even if she fails. Even when I was strong and fit, I didn’t reach the top of every mountain. The joy was always in the doing, the next move, the next attempt.

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Kandi Maxwell writes creative nonfiction and lives in Northern California. She is a retired English teacher and former backcountry guide. Her stories have been published in Hippocampus Magazine, The Door is A Jar, The Raven’s Perch, The Meadow, Wordrunner eChapbooks, and other literary journals and anthologies. Her memoir, Snow After Fire, was published by Legacy Book Press in 2023. Learn about Kandi at kandimaxwell.com.