Sup, Dawgs

I met one of my lifelong goals this weekend -- stand-up paddling. Bill and I have mocked stand-up paddling for most of the year after REI started carrying SUP World Magazine. First we laughed that there was an entire magazine devoted to stand-up paddling, then that REI in Philadelphia decided to sell it -- who stand-up paddles when your only local bodies of water are the Schuylkill or the pool at the Y?

No issues of SUP World Magazine have ever been sold, apparently. But Bill and I resolved to try, uh, supping before the end of the year. You can't mock it until you try it.

This weekend I ditched Bill and headed up to Maine for Genny's wedding. "There will be a stand-up paddle board at one of the cabins," she promised. I braved cancelled flights, sleeping with strangers after the weather led to me being stranded in Portland with no car and no place to stay (the wedding was about 90 minutes north of the city) and a car ride with her now-sister-in-law (who was very nice) for the chance to see one of my oldest friends get herself all wedded up. And, as importantly, for the chance to sup.

What does one wear for supping? I went with a bathing suit, no PFD and no shoes. I figured I'd be going into the drink at some point and the less junk stuck on me, the better. Genny tossed some advice my way on how to steer and how not to get hit in the head with the board when I fell and I was off.

Hooray! It wasn't too hard, sort of fun and actually felt like exercise. Sort of like standing on a bosu ball while doing squats. Except half-naked in a lake in Maine. Also I know I have a bike short tan. I can see my own legs and people pointed it out to me all day. So thanks for not pointing it out to me again.

The weekend was sort of eventful, mostly related to the fact that the east coast was hit with some moderate thunderstorms that led to cancelled flights -- the maid of honor got stranded in Baltimore and wasn't able to make it up for the main event. But I was in Maine, with some old friends and few that I made along the way so no complaints.

I got in some decent runs -- a 12-miler when I got lost schlepping around Portland, a 7.5-miler and then hill repeats along the road in the creepy, old, awesome house I stayed in for two nights I was there. Not bad for a trip otherwise occupied by wine, beer and lots of chowdery things.

The hill repeat hill wasn't long, but it was steep.

 The rain mostly cooperated, the clouds made for some beautiful sunsets, the bride was happy and I got to eat my vegetarian dinner with a lobster bib on. Sweet!

Friends since the dawn of time. Or 5th grade. Whatever.

Table 9. In the house.

She cleans up well. Me, not so much.

Mosquitos, Mr. Miagi style.

It is necessary to wear a lobster bib while eating lettuce.

COMING UP NEXT: The spooky old house.