Would the rocky kayak flip over, pushing me under the pungent, green-olive colored Chicago River only to emerge seconds later like a soaked sewer rat?
The thought of my first kayak ride being at night freaked me out even more. Loud booming noises, murky water and dark skies sound like a bad horror movie. I prayed I wouldn’t see or paddle-swat a body or anything else floating in the river.
As I signed the waiver promising not to hold the company responsible if my experience left me permanently paralyzed or dead, I wondered if I should be worried about more than just capsizing. I quickly zipped up a red life jacket.
Hopefully this would be smooth-sailing like the gentle Venetian gondola ride I had a few years ago. Or maybe it was the hot, singing Italian who distracted me from becoming seasick.
In any case, I hesitantly carried the heavy tandem kayak with my kayak partner to the dock after getting a quick paddling lesson. My stomach started to ache in uncertainty over whether my fears would be realized.
After paddling for half a mile of the six-mile tour, it hit me. Ouch! My twiggy, little arms hurt.
Turns out I had been anxious about the wrong thing. Instead of agonizing over whether I could end up in the water, I should’ve thought about if I could finish the tour.
Now, I wasn’t so sure. My arms felt like they just carried 10 bags of groceries for 20 miles. They were getting sore and turning into Jell-O.
If only I had built up muscle by lifting weights or working out on the rowing machine at the gym.
As we approached the lake and went underneath a downtown bridge, only one thought popped into my head: please no repeat of the Dave Matthews Band bus dumping their crap into the river and on me. Ew, gross.
Safe and clean, I made it just past the Columbus Street bridge when my body was startled by the booming light show. The cool, unobstructed vantage point for the fireworks show at Navy Pier made the paddling worth it.
Now, if only the kayak had a motor I could switch on to get me back to where I started. No such luck.
The next day my arms hated me and barely helped me wash my hair in the shower.
