Panic Attack

Saturday, Blake and I took sailing lessons on base. Truthfully, I didn't want to do it in the first place, but Blake really loves to sail and taking the lesson is the only way to rent a boat from the marina. So I decided that I was going to banish all negative thoughts and just go for it.

Great idea.

My husband is in the Navy, but I am clueless about ships. I know stern and aft and starboard and port. I have never been on a sailboat... until Saturday... when I was expected to sail one.

It was three hours of instruction followed by a little over an hour of sailing. About 30 minutes into the course, I knew I was in trouble. I understood everything the instructor was saying, but I knew that it was not as simple as he made it sound.

So we get the stuff to rig the boat (heavy stuff) and make our way to the beach. I am nervous, but am definitely willing to give this a go and try my hardest. Blake asked if I was ready and I took a deep breath and out into the channel I went. We were supposed to go around two buoys. So I make my way to the last buoy... so far so good. Then I turned and I should have let go of my sail more than I did and I capsized. Awesome. It's not difficult to right the sailboat, it's just physically draining. But right it I did. And luckily Blake was there to get my hat and flip-flops, which were slowly floating their way to Pensacola Bay. But alas, my sunglasses are no more.

The instructor told me to just take a few and then start sailing again. Well. The capsizing was indicative of my ability to sail. I just didn't get it. I still don't. I understood the mechanics, but couldn't apply them. The instructor told me I shouldn't give up and that it's like riding a bike. He was very nice... and towed me back to the beach just in time. Because I was having a panic attack. Seriously. I have never had one before and hope never to have one again.

I was "in irons," which means that my boat was pointing into the wind and I was going nowhere. I couldn't get myself out of irons and because of capsizing, I was exhausted. I knew I wasn't going to learn anything more and I just wanted to go to the beach and feel dry land. Blake kept his boat by me and tried to talk me through getting my boat the right direction, but it wasn't working. I tried to keep my cool, but inside I was FREAKING out. I was kind of... floating away and I waved to the instructor, but he couldn't really talk me through getting my boat the right direction because apparently I had floated into a really crappy situation. Great. Then, he said, "I'll be right back" and he left. No explaination, no reassurances. Good thing Blake was there. Turns out, the instructor had to tow a guy back to the beach who was in a worse situation than me. Anyway, eventually, I did get back on dry land.

Blake kept telling me that no one is great the first time and it only gets easier, the bigger the sailboat. But I know I'm not cut out to sail. I will make a great passenger. Blake is the sailor.

Then we went to the beach on base. That was fun. Even though the beach was technically closed for the season and swimming was "not advised," the water was great. I only waded in anyway. It was super fun. Pensacola has the best sand ever. It's so soft and white and beautiful. Hanging out at the beach all afternoon was nice and relaxing after my sailing ordeal.

Then we came home, cleaned up and went to KFC. Blake felt bad about my sailing experience.

All in all, I don't like sailing. I do like the beach. And I have a great husband.

And my upper legs got burnt. And the backs of my legs. But that's all. Weird.