One Hour (Cycle Paper)

I had been preparing for March 5, 2008 for over a year now, and the day had finally arrived. Two weeks ago, on March 5 I was to take my road test. Up to that day I had done everything by the book to ensure that I got my license the day I could. I did everything; crossed all my T’s and dotted my I’s.
To get your license you must hold your permit for at least six months, take in class drivers ed, on the road driver’s ed class and complete at least fifty hours of behind the wheel driving before receiving you license. So being the good citizen I am, I made sure I had everything ready for that day. Upon reaching all the requirements, I was ready to rock and roll and get my license. The only thing left to do was take the driving test.
March 5 roles around and my mom and I head down to the DMV in Kaneohe a whole hour before my appointment. We wanted to be sure that nothing went wrong. Ha! Little did we know, that was not how the next hour went. Just like anyone else, I was nervous before the test. With my six months of driving experience I can’t say I’m any good at parallel parking. So I decided I needed to do a little “cramming” before the test. I needed Mom to help me practice parallel parking. We drive around the parking lot for 10 minutes only to find there is nowhere to even practice parking. We gave up. I’d heard from a few of my friends that they didn’t have to parallel park during their road test. Maybe I’d get lucky too.
Forgetting about my parallel parking dilemma, we decided to head in and register so that we were ready when 2:30 came around. We waited anxiously for 15 minutes in the line while the government workers take their time processing everyone’s data. 2:10 roles around and it’s our turn. Mom and I casually cruise up to the plastic wooden counter. We whip out our vehicle registration card and insurance card only to find that the vehicle registration card had expired 8 months ago. I couldn’t believe it! I specifically told my mom to make sure everything was up to date so this wouldn’t happen. All the sudden the clock seemed to tick faster and faster. Now it was 2:15. The crabby government worker told me I could go to Satellite City Hall at Windward Mall and get it renewed, but if I wasn’t back by exactly 2:30 then I’d lose my appointment. So Mom and I race to the car and go as fast as we can to Windward Mall (we didn’t speed, for fear of getting pulled over and that would just be too ironic on the day I’m suppose to get my license). I run up to the second floor of the mall and shove my papers at the old lady behind the desk (thank God there was no line!). I quickly explain my dilemma and she hurries up and gives me the renewed registration form. Its 2:23. Oh, no I’ve got seven minutes until the last six months are ruined.
We made it. We made it back to the DMV with 2 minutes to spare. My mom’s driving is amazing, although I’m sure the tester wouldn’t approve. The ladies tell us to wait outside until our names are called. Still panting from all the excitement, mom and I make it outside. We wait patiently, only to hear my name called through the scratchy voice of the same crabby government worker. Oh, great, just what I need, a crabby old lady who keeps hacking up a storm with her emphysema-like coughs.
With all the stresses of the day, I still wound up passing the test (getting -15, a -16 is a fail) and getting my license, and yes she did make me parallel park...uphill. My last six months of preparing have finally pulled through and now there is a whole new meaning to the word freedom.

Paddling (Cycle Paper)

This summer is going to be the worst summer ever. I won’t get to do what I love. Every summer I do something so intense and grueling that it makes me want to puke. It makes my body feels like it is going to explode into a million pieces and I love it. I love paddling for Kailua Canoe Club.
A paddling crew consists of six paddlers. You need a steersman, a stroker and four other paddlers. The steersman sits in the back of the boat and basically is the leader. She steers the boat and tells the crew to go faster or yells encouraging words to us. In my boat I am the stroker. Let me tell you a little about what a stroker does. The stroker plays a very important role in the boat because the stroker sets the pace. Every paddler behind me is suppose to mimic exactly what I do. So the stroker must have good form and good pace. The person who sits behind me, in seat two is that one who calls the changes. What she does is counts strokes and after twelve strokes she yells “Hut Ho!,” which means switch to the other side of the boat. Everyone simultaneously switches.
Not only am I going to miss my crew but also I will miss my coach. I had a special relationship with my coach. She was inspiring and gave me so much motivation. I will miss those motivating and inspiring speeches she gave before each race. And in a strange way I will also miss her telling us to paddle for 20 minutes straight during practice so we can work on our endurance, even though the race is only a mere 60 seconds.
Every Sunday there is a regatta at a different beach, whether it’s at Kailua Beach, Waimanalo, Keehi Lagoon, Waikiki, Nanakuli, or what not. Each beach is different so each week we train differently. Our training is based on how rough the water is, whether or not we are racing towards the beach or parallel with it and how long the race is going to be. All of these factors are weaved into our training for the upcoming Sunday.
One of the things I will never forget is how extremely competitive paddling is. There is no messing around when it comes to winning a race. Every boat out there is looking to win the coveted gold medal. Teams have come so close to winning it, but can lose by a mere .01 of a second. Each race counts as a whole for part of your club. Whichever club gets the most points (points are determined by what place you got in the race) wins the regatta. Winning the regatta is what it is all about.
The reason I do paddling is not because I get to meet lots of people and go the beach four times a week and work out. I paddle for that one moment of glory and joy I get when I finish a race. All summer, every Sunday starts out the same, waking up early in the morning to get to the beach where my race is. My race is first thing in the morning at about 8:30. I’m always feeling a little anxious before the race.
Every race my club does the same little ritual thing. The main head coach of the whole club gives and inspiring speech about how we need to paddle our hearts out and that every stroke counts and to do our best and bring in the gold. Then my coach gives my crew a little speech reminding us of how hard we worked this week and that we deserve the gold. At the end of every speech she says the same phrase to us, “First you must be one with your paddle, then one with the boat, and finally one with the ocean.” The words still ring in my head today. Whenever anyone mentions racing in a boat, I always think of what Coach said. After her little pep talk, the six of us hop in the boat and paddle out the starting line. This is when my heart starts beating a little faster than normal and I start telling my self to not freak out during the race and to stay focused.
Meanwhile the steersman is yelling encouraging things to us and telling us we are the fastest boat out there and we are going to win. The boat makes it up to our starting flag and we are in line with 20 other boats. All eyes are straight ahead intensely watching the motorboat out in the middle of the coarse. A man on the motorboat raises a yellow flag and my steersman yells “Paddles up!” We all quickly lift our paddles up and hold them over the water getting ready to take the first stroke. Then the yellow flag starts waving from left to right and left to right and back again. My heart is pounding so hard I can practically hear it. All the sudden a red flag flies into the air and green one quickly comes up after it. My steersman yells at us, “GO! GO! GO! PADDLE GIRLS PADDLE!!” We strike the water so hard, we slice it with every stroke. We finally feel the boat start to move and we are off. That one minute of racing feels like ten. I start zoning out. It is like everything is moving in slow motion. I feel the ocean water splashing on my face. I hear the other boats calling their changes and I try to focus on my own boats changes. I focus on how fast I’m going. I always feel like the boat isn’t moving; yet I know it is. I think about what coach said early in week about how I need to bite the water with my paddle and that I need to reach further. All of these thoughts are flying through my head.
Finally, I see the finish flag quickly approaching. I paddle even harder, my steersman is screaming at us to “PADDLE! PADDLE! PADDLE!” Her voice starts to crack as she yells at us to go faster. I start to get frustrated because I see the noses of the other boats creeping along the sides of mine. I’m giving my all yet the boat isn’t going faster, I am furious that my arms aren’t digging into the water more and that they won’t move faster. Finally, we reach the finish line and we all collapse. I feel so much joy in my body that I feel like crying. I smile all the way back to our tent as we paddle home to our club. Then the boat pulls up to the shore and we all hop out.
The whole club is screaming with joy and congratulating us. People form a tunnel with their arms and all six of us run through it while people hang leis on us and tell us how close the race was. We all take pictures together. Then my coach pulls me over to the side to congratulate me. She says I looked good out there and that I had good form. Then she tells me about the other boats and how they did. I feel great. My heart is still racing trying to recover from the physical part of the race but it can’t because of all the emotions I feel. A whole day full of mixed feelings finally comes to an end. I go home and wait for the Monday morning newspaper to see what place I got and which club won the regatta.