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| Photo by Lindsay Zuelich @Wood_Brain |
I had a hard time sleeping the night before the race. My mind bounced back and forth between wondering what the conditions would be like and thinking about how this race was a major stepping stone toward the Catalina Classic in August. After hours of tossing and turning, I finally drifted off.
The alarm went off at 4:00 a.m. I got up, made some coffee, and tried to eat breakfast. The plan was a baked potato with avocado and a hard-boiled egg, but my stomach wasn't interested. It rumbled with the kind of gurgle that refuses food.
Instead, I focused on my pre-race checklist: wetsuit and paddle gear, nutrition, hot water rinse, post-race snacks. Once everything was packed, I loaded my 17'6" Unlimited Bark onto the roof of my car.
That board has a funny history. I owned it back in 2017 and 2018, then sold it in 2020 because I rarely used it. Earlier this year I bought it back from the same guy, and since then I've logged more than 120 miles on it. Funny how life works sometimes.
Before I knew it, I was driving to Hermosa Beach for the South Bay Paddle Race.
At check-in they wrote the number 75 on my hand and handed me a race shirt. The forecast called for heavy onshore winds between 8 and 10 knots. I kept hoping the forecasters had it wrong, but I wasn't counting on it. I pulled on my long john wetsuit and Florence windscreen rash guard and headed down to the beach.
My race plan was simple: stick with Amy Dantzler for as long as possible.
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| Photo by Lindsay Zuelich @Wood_Brain |
Amy is an incredibly strong paddler. Her pace is steady, consistent, and relentless. She never seems to slow down. I found her on the sand, set my board down nearby, and listened as all 94 racers gathered for the pre-race briefing.
Soon it was time to paddle out and line up.
Amy and I moved toward the front of the pack. They said the race would start when the horn sounded. I never actually heard the horn, but suddenly everyone was paddling south, and just like that, the race was on.
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| Joe Bark @BarkBoards |
The water was rougher and colder than I expected. I settled in next to Amy and focused on holding my pace. We quickly passed the yellow pin near the breakwall. The course line was farther offshore than when we had practiced it, but I knew the route: south toward Torrance Beach, then out to the R10 buoy before turning back north.
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| Joe Bark @BarkBoards |
Several times Amy started to pull away. Each time I'd jump up and knee paddle to close the gap. More than once I managed to catch back up to her.
We rounded the safety boat near Torrance Beach side by side before heading out toward R10.
Little by little, Amy began pulling away for good. My speed started to drop. I wasn't tired yet, which made me wonder if I was dragging seaweed or fighting an unfavorable current. Whatever it was, I wasn't moving as well as I wanted.
Finally, I turned on my headphones.
Instantly, everything changed.
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| Photo by Captain Sleeis |
The music gave me rhythm. It gave me energy. I settled into a routine of prone paddling, then hopping onto my knees to regain momentum whenever my pace dropped.
Less than a mile from R10, I spotted a lifeguard boat. I wondered if my friend Captain Sleeis was on board.
Sure enough, as I got closer, there he was.
"You want a ride to the finish?" he yelled.
Not this time.
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| Photo by Captain Sleeis |
He snapped photos as I rounded the buoy and started the long trip back north. A little later I heard him shout, "Hey Eric! Say hi to Lindsay! I'm recording!"
I laughed, waved, and yelled hello.
That little interaction gave me another boost.
The return leg felt long but steady. I kept alternating between prone paddling and knee paddling as Redondo Harbor slowly grew larger in the distance.
Then I hit the oil patch.
The water turned glassy and smooth, almost dreamlike. It smelled faintly of gasoline, but I couldn't help loving the way the surface looked. After miles of rough water, it felt like paddling across polished glass.
The pier was finally getting closer.
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| Photo by Captain Sleeis |
For miles there had been a young paddler ahead of me, probably around 17 years old. I slowly reeled him in and managed to pass him in the final quarter mile.
As I approached shore, a set wave stood up in front of me. For a second it looked like it might ruin my finish. I hit the brakes just in time, let the wave pass underneath me, and then sprinted the rest of the way in.
I jumped off my board, hit the sand, and discovered I still had something left in the tank.
I ran up the beach toward the finish line, high-fiving friends along the way. I looked over and saw my wife taking pictures, and I couldn't stop smiling.
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| Photo by Lindsay Zuelich @Wood_Brain |
My final time was 3 hours and 13 minutes.
For 14.2 miles, that works out to an average speed of 4.4 mph.
I'm proud of that.
A year ago, the longest race I'd ever done was the 3-mile version of this same event. Since then I've logged roughly 1,000 ocean miles. Looking back, it's hard to believe how much progress can happen in a year when you just keep showing up and paddling.
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| Reagen Hansen Photo by Lindsay Zuelich @Wood_Brain |
Another highlight of the day was seeing photos of Reagan Hansen racing the 3-mile course on the custom board I built for her. Honestly, that made my day almost as much as finishing my own race.
Out of 94 racers, I finished 63rd overall and 23rd out of 35 paddlers in my division. Not spectacular, but not bad either.
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| Photo by Lindsay Zuelich @Wood_Brain |
Looking back, I realize I didn't get here by myself. Over the past year I've been fortunate to train with some incredibly talented paddlers who have pushed me to improve every time I get in the water. Paddling with people like Amy, Alyssa, Brent, Tommy and Ed, Steve and Austin Bender, the Paddle Dawgs, the Donkeys, the South Bay Paddle Club, and of course Kurt and DJ from Oceans Prone have taught me so much. Watching stronger paddlers up close—seeing their consistency, pacing, technique, and determination—has been one of the biggest factors in my progress.
There have been plenty of mornings when I was hanging on for dear life, trying to keep up with a group that was faster than me. But every one of those sessions made me a little stronger, a little more efficient, and a little more confident. Being surrounded by paddlers who love the sport and challenge themselves at a high level has been incredibly motivating.
A year ago, the longest race I'd ever done was the 3-mile course at this same event. Since then I've logged roughly 1,000 ocean miles, completed my first 15-mile race, and learned that I'm capable of much more than I thought.
And now I'm officially qualified for the 32-mile Catalina Classic in August.
One year ago, a 15-mile race seemed impossible.
Now it's just the next step.
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