Life is Sailing

I did not sail today. There was a small boat regatta nearby. I was excited to participate and take a break from unpacking and the drudgery of cutting my way through cardboard room after room. It was a hot and humid day, but the sun was shining and the water glistened invitingly. Generous new friends were helping me rig the laser I was going to borrow.

As the race start neared, I sent my gaze skyward to survey the weather. Large cumulonimbus clouds. How had I not noticed them earlier? Hmmm… a little trepidation began to grow. I already was a bit uneasy because of my injured middle toe that had flared up a couple of days ago. On top of that, the hull was one I had not used before. It belonged to a responsible sailor but the hull appeared a little worse for wear, showing its age of twenty-two years. But I could give her a chance. The accessories were lovely, the main sheet was just the width I preferred, the tiller extension pristine, all of the controls nicely in order and well kept.

So I pulled the dolley down to the beach. With a little help from fellow sailors, I was ready to sail. Within no time, I had her humming, skimming the water on a beam reach. But something felt off, a little squirrelly. Perhaps it was the wind – a little switchy in the basin, especially with the direction the wind came from over the land. And it wasn’t just switchy. It was puffy too, random gusts filling my sail. The toughest part for me was the hull of the boat felt … well… different. In a Laser, one sits close to the water, which is one of my favorite things about sailing a Laser. But on this boat, I was practically sitting in the water. Literally, my butt was dragging in the water when I was on a beam reach. It reminded me of sailing a Topper, which is a boat made of plastic. In strong winds, that boat would sag in the middle and drag my butt through the waves. Lasers are made of fiberglass. There should be no sag in the middle of a Laser. My tacking also felt off, sloppy.

Now all that said, to be honest, it could also have just been me. I did not feel confident going out there to sail today. Call it a premonition. Call it being chicken. My head was not in the game like I needed it to be.

So I sailed up to the race committee boat and told them I was calling it. Before any of the races began, I pulled myself out of the competition. For the duration of the races, I sat on the beach and watched as the boats competed against each other. It looked quite puffy from the shore, with boats feathering into the wind to try to de-power the sails when sailing upwind. I even saw a death roll capsize when a sailor was sailing downwind. Puffy and strong with building intensity during the regatta.

Although I questioned my instincts and feelings and was quite disappointed to not be sailing, I knew I had made the best call not to sail today. It stinks to say no, but sometimes when things just don’t feel right, we need to say no. There will be other days to sail.

(Life analogy: we don’t have to feel compelled to jump in with abandon when our gut says danger. Choose to do something else. Make the wise call.)