We’ve been in Lockdown in the UK now for 50 days, and like everyone, I’m missing many things, and many people.  Life has changed beyond measure, and we're all doing our best to adapt. 
As most people reading this will know, sea kayaking is both my passion and my livelihood.  But it’s more than either of those things suggest;  over the last few weeks I’ve found a hole in my life, that I’ve struggled to fill.  I’ve found some work as a supermarket delivery driver, to pay the bills;  I’ve been getting plenty of exercise: running, using our home gym, lifting weights and rowing or indoor biking within that gym.  So what is it? What has left a hole, that just doesn’t seem to be adequately filled by any other activity?

One thing I have done plenty of during Lockdown is trail running.  We’re lucky enough to live very close to some lovely woodland with a network of paths, not marked on any maps but worn by dog walkers & animals.  We also have a young, and very energetic Border Collie who needs plenty of exercise, so trail running is the perfect combination.  

I’ve been a runner for around 10 years, on & off, and have run mainly on roads in that time.  But a year ago I suffered an injury that I struggled to recover from, and during the process of rehabilitation I decided to focus simply on running & training for fun, to train consistently for a year without pushing myself to any specific performance goals.  And so a new-found love of the trails was born.  As a result of spending more and more time running on rough ground, up & down hills, I can feel myself getting better at it...

And then yesterday, I felt it... That same feeling I get from sea kayak play, surfing a wave or catching a wave in a tide race. 

Flow. 

​Complete, 100% focus.  I didn’t realise it at the time, only when I surfaced, mentally... running down a rooty technical trail my mind switched off, body took over, and BOOM: there it is!

So what is it I get from the kind of paddling that I love most? It’s complete escape, more powerful than any drug.  The ability to turn off the world, turn off the inside of my own head, and just let my body do its thing.  It involves a 'just right' level of challenge, both physical and mental, inextricably interwoven with one another, so that one cannot exist without the other.  In those few seconds or moments, my mind can reset, recharge, find some peace. 

It’s going to be a while until we can go back to the type of paddling that gives me that feeling: the opportunity to match challenge to ability and truly focus on the present.  The ultimate act of mindfulness, in many ways.  But in the meantime, that little stretch of woodland trail, and in time when we can move around a little more, others like it, might just go a small way to filling that gap.

...to the sound of the sea.  To the sea in all its moods, from the flat-calm-sunny-warmth of a glassy day, gliding through calm water with life meandering on below... to the alive and rhythmic, sound-charged energy of a surf filled day. 

I allow my mind to wander... to the connection between friends, a day in a tide race and the deepest bond… in that glance that says ‘I know what you’re thinking and I feel it too’... The smile of elation at success, at flow, at the joy of movement.

I miss that glance.  I miss the noise, the feel of the water on my skin, the smell of the air.  I miss the sea, and I miss the friends with whom I share it.   I miss it so much that I feel the pain in both body and mind. ​

I don’t take from the sea in the way a fisherman might... I take energy, strength and understanding.  Feelings of connection, a deep awareness of how the sea moves and breathes, of how its energy appears on the surface, and of how it allows me to dance with it, responding to its rise and fall, matching the energy of my response to the energy of its movement.

I miss the thin sliver of fibreglass that, between the sea and my body, tells me what the water wants me to do.  It tells me how to move, how to perform, the tiny adjustments to make with body and blade, conscious brain seemingly absent from the process.

The sea will still be there when this is over.   In weeks, months, or more…  It’s not essential, I’m told.  Until then, I must survive on imagery and memory alone, on the remembering of those connections, physical and metaphorical.  For the good of all, for the lives, and livelihoods, of us all. 

​And so I wait.

Before you groan, no this is not a post on some awful 'management speak' phrase...

It's about speed.  Actually, it's all about speed: paddling, that is.  Don't believe me?  Well, let's dive in...

Do you remember when you first learned to ride a bike?  Perhaps you had stabilisers, or your dad's hand holding you upright.  Or if you're younger, perhaps you even had a balance bike?  

​Think back... but either way, you probably started off with some serious wobbles.  You went slowly, wobbled about a bit, watched the ground in front of your wheels, and maybe fell off a few times.  But you picked yourself up, got back on the shiny new bike, and had another go.  And with time (some more than others!) you gained confidence, and above all, you gained speed.  The stabilisers came off, your dad's hand came off the back of the saddle, or the feet came off the floor, and all of a sudden you're riding!  With speed, you stayed upright, and began to go places.  You quickly learned that moving forwards on your bike meant you didn't fall off.  Unless you're Danny Macaskill of course (although next time you watch one of his videos, check out how he uses forward momentum to make tricks work).

So why, in a sea kayak, should it be any different?  

Let's think about the environment that most of us, as sea kayakers, spend most of our time in: wind & waves.  You're paddling steadily along chatting to a friend, enjoying your day out.  The sea is a little bit jabbly, and a wave side-swipes you, perhaps even breaking slightly over your deck.  Do you....

• Get taken by surprise and fall in? 
• Use a big low or high brace, and in the process, slow down to almost a stop? 
• Put in a big powerful forward paddle stroke, and propel yourself away from that wave?

If I'm being honest, I think most sea kayakers opt for options 1 or 2.  So if we transferred that into our child cyclist analogy, how would it translate?  Option 1 would probably be a big wobble, slamming the brakes on and falling off the bike (ouch!).  Option 2... Feet down on the floor or brakes on, hesitation and a period of wobbles, before regaining the confidence to get going again. 
Option 3?  Well, that would involve pre-empting the challenge, and skilfully using speed to overcome it.  

How about moving water?  What causes us the 'wobble' there?  

Well, let's think about the environment: 
Boat in eddy:  Stable
Boat crossing eddy line, half in flow, half in eddy: Wobbly!
Boat fully in flow: Stable (phew...)

So, if the wobbly bit is the eddy line, we want to get across it as quickly as possible, right?  "But..." I hear you say "I've been taught to paddle up to the eddy line and lean on a low brace.  Doesn't that slow me down?"  Well, quite honestly, yes it does.  

You paddle up to the eddy line, then as the front of the boat hits the line, you lean powerfully onto a low brace, edging downstream... What happens next?  The boat turns, you might be across the eddy line, or if it's a wide, boily eddy line, such as those at the Falls of Lora or a multitude of other moving-water venues, you might be whirling your way down through those boils, having ceded control to the eddy line monsters.  You finish facing downstream or thereabouts, with little control over your destination.  

How about this alternative: You paddle up to the eddy line, and as it approaches you crank up the power in the last couple of metres, and drive that boat over the eddy line.  Quick as a flash, you're over the line, your whole boat on a single piece of flow, with a choice as to what happens next...

​Which do you prefer?  

Ok then, so what about surf?  Surely kayakers in surf use low brace/ low brace rudder/ negative strokes all the time? 

Well, yes they absolutely do.  However, lets think about the mechanics at work here... 

As you catch a wave, the back of your boat lifts, and... all of a sudden you're propelled forward faster than you can paddle.  The wave provides the speed, allowing you the option of giving up a little speed in order to steer, or turn, or maybe even deliberately slow yourself down in order to stay on the wave...

So how can you work on speed, and using it where it matters?  There are no short-cuts here: practice.  But first, you need to understand how to generate speed.  Next time you're on the water, try changing gears.  Do you have more than one?  

Let's go back to our child cyclist analogy.  When you got your first 'proper' bike, did it have gears?  If you wanted to go fast, you changed gear, right?  If you wanted to go up a hill, you'd make it easier for yourself and maybe spin those little legs as fast as you could.  

Experiment with something similar in your kayak: try a few sprints, and then try slowing your cadence, the speed you turn that blade over, right down.  Can you do that and keep your speed the same?  Then try the same thing in some water with wind & waves... Can you feel the energy in the water?  Can you match your cadence to that energy, changing gears as the water does?  

Skilful paddling isn't about having one solution to a problem: it's about having many solutions, and choosing the best one.  So go out and find some solutions, experiment with speed, and get creative!  

I crest the hill, and suddenly everything feels light.  I feel like I'm flying, down through the trees as the path twists & winds its way downhill... Snow carpets the route but my feet find their placement without conscious thought.  Yes! This is why I love running...

In my last blog post, I asked if you'd ever thought about why you paddle.  What is it that you love about your watery pastime?  Why do you get on the water?  What really makes you get excited about that next outing?  

This time, I wanted to focus on what you're aiming for.  Goal setting; although that's not a term that gets many people excited...  

And therein lies the rub.  If your goals and your motivation aren't the same, will you be excited and motivated to work towards those goals?  When it gets tough, will you keep reminding yourself to use what you've learned?  To keep up with that great forward paddling technique when you get tired, so you can go further or faster?  To paddle out again for just one more wave, when you're flagging but the surf is still good?  To remind yourself not to put in that negative stroke? 

That brings me to the first paragraph of this post: I'm not a particularly good runner, but I love it.  For years though, I focused on entering road-running events.  I'm not really sure why, if I'm honest: perhaps I thought 'that's just what you do'.  I thought I should be faster, and worked hard to get my 5k, 10k or half marathon times down.  I entered a couple of marathons, but the training felt hard and I always got injured before I hit the start line.  
Then this winter, something changed.  I decided just to run for fun, not to enter any events unless they really appealed, and purely for the beauty of the place.  Instead, I altered my goal-focus towards running a route I've wanted to do for ages, not for anyone but me.  It's a trail run, in a beautiful place, and just challenging enough that I need to get out and train for it.  As a result, I'm thoroughly enjoying running and exploring trails, with no pressure to get faster or compete with anyone else but myself.  That goal is still to be met, but I know I'll get there. 

So what really motivates you?  Do you just love spending time on the water with friends?  Or the physical challenge of paddling in tough conditions?  Or something else?  What are you working towards, and why?  Do the two things match?  

If they don't, the chances are your goal will be a tough one to master.  Just like my old running goals, of bringing my half marathon time down, if meeting your goal demands that you work hard at something you don't enjoy, the chance of you doing that, and not finding an excuse to avoid it, is very much reduced.  

When I first began lifting weights, my trainer at the time laid it on the line to me: "The best form of exercise is the one you'll actually do".  Wise words!  

If your motivation is beautiful scenery, wildlife and enjoying wild places, will you really be motivated to get out in rough water in order to pass your Advanced Sea Kayak Leader award?  If what you really love is the buzz of surfing a wave, should you really enter that Sea Kayak race?  If you can't get enough of the smile on people's faces when they achieve success: perhaps your goal should be coaching-related?  

So, should those goals be SMART?  Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Realistic and Time-bound, right?  Well, not necessarily.  If it suits you to set a SMART goal, well, go ahead.  It's a great way to work.  But that doesn't work for everyone, and at the end of the day, we're all different.  If it works for you to just have something you'd like to achieve which, well, you'll get to one day... Do you know what?  That's absolutely fine!  
Personally, I have a paddling-related goal I've been working towards for around two years now.  I can see it perhaps taking another couple of years, or maybe more, before I achieve it.  What I do know, though, is that it motivates the living daylights out of me.  Come hell or high water, wind or rain, I'll get there one day.  I've visualised it so many times, I can virtually touch the water and feel the spray on my face.  There'll be knock-backs and disappointments on the way, and I'll have to work hard to get there.  But I will.  

​Will you?  

Do you know why you paddle?  Go on, have a think... 

Hard question to answer, that, isn't it?  And it's different for all of us.  For some it will be social: enjoying the company of friends;  for others, the natural world; and for yet others, the feeling of moving, of performing, of getting better at something.  And for many of us, a combination of all three with a host of other factors added into the mix.  

If you're a coach, have you ever thought about why you do it?  Perhaps it makes you feel good, or perhaps you've used coaching to help you improve your own paddling.  Or maybe you simply do it because your club needs you to.  

All of our motivations are equally valid, and none of them static.  One thing I've learned over the course of my paddling & coaching life (and indeed, life in general!) is that motivations change.  

Over the last few years, my motivation has shifted and settled.  I have become focused on learning, on improving as a paddler and coach, on performing in challenging environments, motivated by the rush of pushing my performance to new places, discovering what's possible for me.  The smile I get inside from the feeling of Flow.  Many people think of the British Canoeing Advanced Sea Kayak Leader award as being the 'top' of their aspirations as a paddler, but for me that was when the 'real' focus on learning and performing began, on achieving freedom from the confines of a syllabus, and the ability to widen my own horizons, open my eyes to what is possible, and begin to experiment with performance.  

​
​Adding and developing my understanding of performance in the gym gave me even more depth to play with, and scope to experiment with performance on the water.  How could I use added strength & power in my boat? 

​As a coach, my focus and motivation has followed that of Zoe the paddler.  If you do some coaching, whether as a profession or as a hobby, have you ever thought about why you do it?  What do you enjoy?  What really motivates you as a coach?  Does that rub off on your learners? 

The British Canoeing Educational Philosophy has this to say on the subject: 

"British Canoeing Awarding Body believes in a participant-led approach when creating and enabling experience from which people will enjoy, learn and develop through paddlesport. These experiences will be delivered in an individualised way that also supports the inherent social aspects of the sport and fosters a sense of a paddling community.
Through this paddlers will achieve success, this success being focused on the journey and not the destination.
​The experience will be safe, engaging and enjoyable, with the paddler at the heart of the process involving them in their own learning and development.
This will be delivered by a supportive and empowering approach to instil an active passion for the sport of canoeing, alongside developing understanding and respect for the environment in which it takes place."

I've italicised a few phrases that really stand out for me, in that statement.  I love helping paddlers to become... better paddlers!  So when that realisation dawned for me, it left me with a dilemma: do I focus on doing that, helping people to become better paddlers; or do I continue to work towards delivering syllabus-based awards courses? 

Now, the two aren't mutually exclusive.  Becoming a better leader or coach can help you become a better paddler.  But that doesn't happen by accident: you have to understand how to learn, how to practice, how to help yourself get better.  A coach can't do that for you, but they can help it to happen a lot faster.  That's​ what I truly love about being a coach.  

So, over the course of the last few months, after a lot of personal wrangling with motivation, philosophy, and staring at my own belly-button (metaphorically, you understand!), I've made a decision.  

Most paddling coaches, organisations & providers offer a selection of syllabus-based courses.  I'm going to go out on a limb and dare to be just a little bit different.  For the time being, Zoe Newsam Coaching will not deliver Leadership or Coaching training or assessments.  Never say never of course, like we said above, motivations change.  

For now, though, I am going to focus my efforts on offering my clients a focus on improving their performance, on becoming better paddlers, fitter and more powerful people, and on achieving their personal performance goals, including the British Canoeing Personal Performance Awards.  Focusing on being better, more in control, and more confident & independant in the environments and places they want to paddle, with the people they want to be on the water with.  

How do I know that's the right thing to do?  Well, I don't for sure.  But it just feels good.  How will you know when you've achieved success or made a good decision on the water, or given your all in the gym?  Well, it just feels good... right?  

So, what are you waiting for?  Why not book onto a course this summer, and find out what it feels like when it just feels right​?  

I make a cafetière of coffee… and then, still half asleep, I pour cold water from a not-yet-boiled kettle on the coffee grounds.  What a numpty…  Let’s try that again. 

​The air outside feels cold, in spite of the blue sky & sun.  My body tired from a full-on day on the water the previous day, I struggle with the motivation to get changed.  The others are ready to go; it’s ok, I’ll be down shortly, I say.
 
I’m not really feeling it today, despite having great conditions and an awesome group of friends around me.  I pushed myself hard yesterday, and both mentally and physically my reactions feel slow.  No matter, I make myself get stuck in, and an early roll assures me it will be ok…  

I’ve gone through a phase of lacking faith in my roll recently: with no other reason than a swim or two while I’ve been pushing myself in challenging environments.  The human brain is a complex thing, and no matter how much I assure myself that ‘it’s ok, my roll works’, I couldn’t quite believe it hadn’t deserted me.  Perhaps that self-imposed pressure is all the greater when the ability to roll ‘in anger’, so to speak, is part of your job description.  

I’m at the Falls of Lora, a large volume tidal rapid on the west coast of Scotland.  We’re on sizeable tides, the sun is shining and I’m with a group of friends I trust, who are not only superb boaters, but also super-supportive and great company.  Feeling fresh yesterday, we all pushed ourselves to our respective limits; with successes-aplenty all round, having challenged one another to surf particular waves or make specific lines, we ended the day feeling shattered but satisfied.  This morning, however, is different for me: I feel mentally & physically drained, and lacking in the energy to really commit to the move I'm aiming at. 

I crack on… watching the others is inspiring, and I reflect on how fortunate I am to be here, in these conditions, with these people.  I’m achieving moderate success, almost managing to surf the wave I’m aiming for, but something is missing from my usual power …  I drop off the back, and hit the boils below… in a split second I’m upside down, and I wait for that magic moment when my hands hit air and I can instinctively roll up.  It seems to take an age.  The moment comes, and I try to roll, but there’s nothing there, no surface tension.  I’m upside down again, and there’s no air to get my hands into.  I can feel my bum being sucked out of my seat, and my paddle sucked out of my hands.   I bail out after what feels like an age.  I’m out of breath, out of my boat, and my shoe is being sucked off my foot.  Not the most dignified of positions to find myself in!  
​
After collecting myself, boat, paddle, shoe and composure, my pal turns up and offers me a rescue.  Thanks Jonny!  I’m grateful for his comforting presence, his smile and his encouraging words… ‘Come on, one more shot to get back on the horse’, he tells me.  Wise words indeed.
 
I pull myself together and play some more, and as our energy is fading, Tony turns up, to tell us he caught it all on camera.  After tea & cake, stories and photos are exchanged and on the drive home I’m able to begin to properly process the day's learning.

A day later, and I’m at home.  A rest day, thankfully, as I’m feeling pretty fatigued.  Time to process the ‘playtime’ and learning of the last two days, and to reflect. 

In her article 'Learning in the Ugly Zone', Marianne Davies discusses the zone, just beyond our current ability, where we can try, fail, try, fail, learn, and eventually succeed, and so develop our skills through play, exploration and eventual understanding.  Ultimately, if we never step outside of the bounds of our comfort zone, we never have the opportunity to problem-solve our way to the next level.  Does that make that zone an easy place to play?  It's a rewarding place, and mostly a fun place, but that doesn't always make it easy.   

Intellectually I know we’re all between swims, but it doesn’t stop me questioning my skill level, doubting myself. I think there is often a stigma associated with failing, with swimming, with getting things wrong: in society as a whole, not just in paddlesports.  But if we don't get it wrong, we never learn, right?  Right.  So how good do you have to be before you stop failing, stop swimming, stop falling, stop having to pick yourself up and try again?  For me personally, if that ever happens it means I've stopped visiting the Ugly Zone... I've stopped trying.  

My personal take-away?  Every day’s a school day: if you’re learning, and pushing yourself, you will fail, and in paddling occasionally that results in a swim.  Does that mean I'm not good enough?  No, it doesn't.  Does it mean I can still get better?  Always. 

With thanks to Tony Hammock of SeaFreedom Kayak for the use of his excellent photos, and Jonny, George, Sam, Laura & Jenny for their excellent company on the water. 

Flow?  What’s Flow?  We do it for fun, surely?  Whether you’re a competitive athlete or a weekend warrior, whether you paddle every day or once a year, paddlesports, by their very nature, must be fun to motivate us to take part in them.  But what does that mean?  What is it that makes it fun?
 
For me, it goes something like this...

​The wave passes under my boat like molten glass, with no sound, no fury, just pure unadulterated beauty.  Time stands still.  My mind is empty of anything other than here and now.  There is nothing, just me, my boat and this wave, working in harmony, as if they’re connected somehow.  I turn my head, and in that moment my boat does as I ask, with no effort.  It’s a feeling of pure ecstasy, ultimate control...
 
It can last mere seconds, or hours, but in those moments I have no worries, no fears, no space in my brain for anything other than the moment I am in.  It feels like floating, or like effortless gliding, as though everything I’ve ever worked for has come together in that moment.
 
For me, that is the purest definition of fun. Does it happen every time I paddle?  No, it most certainly doesn’t. Does it happen in other areas of my life?  Yes, it certainly does!  
 
So what is ‘flow’? 
 
Psychologist Dr Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, building on the studies of Abraham Maslow before him, researched the concept of flow following his own profound experiences in a second world war Italian prison camp.  He had discovered that by learning to play chess, becoming obsessed with the game, nothing else could enter his thoughts.  He was completely immersed: his dire situation forgotten, the presence of prison guards irrelevant.  He was experiencing flow. 
 
Csikszentmihalyi has become synonymous with the concept of flow, but the idea has been around for millennia.  Whether it’s called ‘Zen’, ‘Rapture’, ‘The Zone’ or any other name, it is a phenomena that humans have sought and used throughout history.   For good reason, too.  It’s an elusive mistress, a drug that we can’t pin down.    But a drug it most certainly is: flow releases a potent mixture of hormones including dopamine, norepinephrine and endorphins, a group of neurotransmitters which between them make us feel good, respond to challenge or stress, and have a morphine-like effect.  No wonder the result is such a high.
 
I remember being in a maths class at school, and being given a set of equations to solve.  But instead of finding them difficult, I thrived on the problem: losing myself in the challenge, so that time disappeared.  You might think a maths class a peculiar environment for this to happen, but flow is all around us; at work, in conversation… Ever lost a whole evening deep in conversation with a friend?  That’s flow in action.  
 
Not long after I started paddling, I remember watching Justine Curgenven’s film ‘This is the Sea 3’.  It featured a few minutes filmed in Scottish Tide Races, and showed a group of paddlers at the Falls of Lora.  Towards the end of the piece, a paddler crosses the powerful eddyline with power and grace, and surfs the glassy green wave with effortless precision… It was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen: a paddler deep in the zone, absolutely immersed in the moment and totally in control, the challenge perfectly matched to the skill they’d worked so hard to achieve.   Watching that moment remains with me to this day as a source of inspiration. 

So how can we access Flow?  If it feels so good, is it possible to make it happen more often?  Well, yes it is.  Accessing flow takes a very particular set of conditions.  But the good news is that the more you paddle, the better you get, and the more likely you are to be able to find this elusive state – but only if you challenge yourself.  I’ve paraphrased the conditions a little to make them relevant for paddlesports: 
 

• External triggers:  No distractions, no interruptions.   The qualities of an environment that drive people deeper into the zone such as risk: the task demands full concentration, consequences will punish distraction.  Nothing must interrupt the zone.
• Clarity of goals:  knowing exactly what you need to do.  The emphasis here is really on the word ‘clarity’.  Having an exact, clear goal: perhaps crossing above a drop, getting onto a wave, making a particular move; these allow us to perform in-the-moment, focussing only on what we want to achieve, right there and then.  Immersion.
• Matching challenge to ability:  If the challenge is too little or too much, we cannot achieve flow: it only happens when there is a perfect match, when we feel challenged by just the right amount. 
• Immediate feedback:  The human body is covered in sensory receptors: we receive feedback constantly, and paddlesports give us the perfect environment to receive this feedback.  Listen to what your body, boat and blade are telling you, and allow your body to respond without cognitive thought. 
• Mastery:  Flow is, quite simply, the reward for practice and effort.  Get good, and you will find flow.

​Is it possible for us, as friends, coaches or leaders, to help others achieve the state?  Well, yes it is.  And even better, it’s beneficial for learning, too.  Learning is long-lasting when it’s achieved through feel – and being in flow is all about just that.  
 
So how can you influence these factors, for yourself or others?

• Who do you paddle with? Do you feel judged? Or supported?  For me this is one of the most important elements, and the one that really determines whether I am likely to find flow, or not.  Can you feed off each other?  Group flow is very much a thing, and can be extraordinarily powerful. 
• How are you setting your level of challenge, either for yourself or for people you coach?  Is it only just a tiny bit above what you know you can achieve?  If the leap is too big, fear and cognitive thought will get in the way.  Too small, and you’re not engaged enough: the outside world can invade your thoughts.
• Can you set yourself challenges with really specific goals?  Try it, next time you head out.

 
So what are you waiting for?  Get out there and challenge yourself; match the challenge to your ability, and let the present melt away.  If you are a coach or a leader, experiment with providing an environment where your learners can concentrate fully on the task in had, with no distractions or interruptions.  For a coach this is the challenging part:  that means silence.  
 
This article is based on literature, but also on my own ponderings and experiences, on my own learning, paddling and coaching.  Get out there and try it for yourself- and then, when our paths cross, tell me what you think…   So what are you waiting for?  Head out and Find Flow.

Further Reading: 

• ‘The Rise of Superman’ by Steven Kotler, published in 2015 by Quercus.
• TED Talk by Mihalyi Csikszentmihalyi, https://www.ted.com/talks/mihaly_csikszentmihalyi_on_flow?language=en
• ‘Bounce’ by Matthew Syed, published in 2011 by Fourth Estate.

Article first published in the Autumn 2019 issue of Scottish Paddler, the Scottish Canoe Association magazine.

There was an old saying "Behind every great man there is a great woman".

I've been thinking a lot lately about the reverse of this: the men that have supported me through my paddling & working life.  

Anyone that knows me is very aware that I am a passionate advocate of gender equality, and particularly in the case of women who want to advance in male-dominated environments.  I've had three careers, personally, all very male-dominated.  And of course, the support of other women is critical in those environments, and female role models help enormously in making progress when you are among the first - or one of very few- women to achieve something.  

However, it is my belief - and some may find this a controversial view- that it's just as important, if not more so, to have supportive and forward-thinking men around you in these environments. 

In planning the Women's Essential Sea Kayaking Weekend I've thought about this subject a lot, an event that is being organised by myself and two male sea kayak coaches who I admire and respect enormously- so I thought I might share, and celebrate, a few examples of the extraordinary men who have supported me in my kayaking career. 

I'm very lucky these days: I'm surrounded by supportive, forward-thinking male role models.  I've had more than my fair share of sexist experiences too however, in thirty years of working in three very different industries.  In my view if we are to change the way our society works, these wonderful men, who support us when we need it and help us fight our corner in achieving gender equality and challenging unconscious bias both in actions and in words, are not celebrated enough. 

Thanks guys, I couldn't do it without you. 

 Sometimes things that seem less than ideal at the time can lead to all sorts of good: and so it was for me, last summer.  I ceased to work for a company I've been associated with for some time, which got me thinking about what I represent, both on the water and off.
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Then, beginning the process of becoming a British Canoeing Coach Award Provider helped me to develop my thinking about my 'coaching philosophy':  What do I stand for, and how do I deliver that to my clients? 

The debate will probably go on for me throughout my coaching and business life.  But the constant for me is two-fold:

• My clients are at the centre of their own learning process.
• Learning is hard work: it takes determination, grit, energy, failure and courage to gain success.

That same discussion with myself also led me to develop my business, and to begin the process of qualifying as a Personal Trainer: more on that later in the year! 

Going through this debate led me to the conclusion that the way I represented myself- my brand, to coin a marketing phrase- no longer really represented what I do, or what I stand for.  So, where to begin?  With visuals, and a new logo...  

My previous logo was designed by the extraordinary Jamie Hageman, so it seemed appropriate to use the work of another artist for the new version.  I approached someone whose work really resonates with me: Amy Dunis, of Adventurous Pencil, to produce a new logo for me.

Amy took a long look at what I do, and came up with what I think is a lovely representation of it in visual form.  

The image uses two symbols intertwined: the wave, and the infinity symbol.  

A wave, you might think is obvious.  I'm a sea kayak coach.  There's nothing I love more than surfing a wave, in all its forms.  However, I'm also fascinated by all the forms waves can take, and what they represent; the way they propagate after formation; that they are simply a physical manifestation of energy travelling through water; that they keep going, no matter what: a symbol of determination and continuation.  If you're a wave geek, like me, check out  The Wavewatcher's Companion.  The sea itself is ever-present, the tides moving constantly, ever-adapting to the land they meet along the way. 

Infinity is of course a mathematical symbol: I started life with a love for maths & science.  But infinity also represents a never-ending energy and courage, the infinite value of growth, independence, knowledge & understanding.  

Lastly, the two combined are just a little like the Koru, the Maori fern, symbol of nurturing and positive change.  I first experienced the joy of sea kayaking in New Zealand, so I'm delighted that just a hint of that country's culture appears in the design. 

I hope you like it... Watch this space for more developments throughout 2019!

Since my last post, it's fair to say a lot has happened!  I was a little nervous of posting it, not sure how it would be received: I needn't have worried.  I've had countless messages of support and empathy, offers of ideas, and messages from others in the same situation.  

So I thought I would share some of the developments I've made, and things I've learned in the last month. 

Firstly, I've made a lot of progress with the way I run my business.  The biggest step was simply admitting to myself that it is a business, and I'm not 'just self employed'.  That has taken something of a mindset-shift, and a spoonful or two of confidence.  I decided to work as though I was setting up from scratch, and that decision has paid off.  

I have also decided to rebrand my business.  For now, I will just leave the new logos and name here, and will talk more about that in a future post. 

I've taken several steps to automate my business processes, such as adding a calendar to my website, and an automated booking form.  Most importantly, I've signed up to two things that are helping a lot with automation:  Quickbooks Self Employed, for accounts & finances, and Mailchimp, for marketing.  Amazingly, Mailchimp can do what I need it to do, for free!

I approached several people for advice: a couple of experienced friends who run their own businesses, and a highly respected paddler & coach who has agreed to act as a mentor to me over this next stage of my career. 

Most usefully of all, I made an appointment with a Business Advisor at Business Gateway.  This fantastic service is open to anyone north of the border who is self employed or runs a small business, and they offer much more than just classroom courses.  They can give advice, and they can set up arrangements with specialist advisers, free of charge, to help achieve what you need. We're very lucky to have access to the service in Scotland. 

And for me, the biggest learning of the last month: I need to give myself a break, be good to myself.  I care, very much, and I hope that all of these things will help me to give my clients a better service too.  That may mean waiting a little for an email reply, while I take the dog for a walk, go for a run or a paddle, or drink coffee with a friend.  These things are trying at the time, but I've come out fired up and more enthusiastic than ever: I look forward very much to seeing you on the water!