RUNNING ON WATER by Jean Hartley

I have no memory of running. Is this what it feels like? The canoe races at a speed I don't know on land. I travel through space with no effort, no pain. I dig my paddle deep, deeper into the blue water, enjoying the resistance of the current and the rush of wind. I'm running on water! Look at me. What joy and freedom!

I've been exhilarated by the speed of the zip line traveling 35 miles an hour through the Oregon tree tops. I've wept at the sweet memory of the prow of an 18-sail Tall Ship plowing through North Sea waves at midnight. These adventures only whet my appetite for more challenges that I found in canoeing and surfing in my own hometown on the Big Island of Hawai`i. I proudly wear the T-shirt "Who Me? Disabled?"

I stand on the pier in Kailua Kona, Hawai`i watching the paddling crews come in from practice to beach their canoes in the approaching twilight. Mynah birds scream a shrill chorus of welcome from the banyan trees. Mopeds, bicycles and high-rise pick-ups wait to take the water warriors home.

It takes 12 strong men to carry the 400-pound canoes up to the grassy area where they are put to bed until practice the next evening. The crews of Tui Tonga, Kai `Opua, Kai E Hitu and other local clubs are participating in the earliest cultural ritual of the Polynesian islands - outrigger canoe paddling.

Hawai`ian artist and historian Herb Kawainui Kane identifies the Polynesians as "people of an ocean world." The importance of water (kai) is reflected in the local language, hula, music and art. Water is the centerpiece of island life: surfing, paddling, net throwing, diving, snorkeling, blue water fishing and sunset watching from the seawall. The coastal waters, home to sperm and humpback whales, are happily shared with green turtles and dolphins. In Kailua its all kai, the direction of life is makai (toward the ocean).

I watch as sweaty paddlers rinse off in the outdoor shower and head home for supper carrying their personal paddles of lightweight cedar or poplar. Paddle makers are to canoes as shapers are to surfboards, the gifted craftsmen that raise the level of their unique work to that of art. Paddle maker Makana Delovio of Portuguese-Hawaiian descent has made the canoe his world since the age of 12. Vintage paddles which were six-foot, 15-pound koa wood beauties have been replaced by shorter and lighter versions more able to reach the 60 strokes per minute for competitive paddling. Makana tells me the newest design is a half-pound graphite paddle that is a suitable weight for paddling in Kailua Bay.

And being part of a paddling crew is of great interest to Eric Hedenberg whom you will find on the King Kamehameha Hotel beach on the last Sunday of each month. A stroke in 2005 left Eric with a wicked sense of humor and a paralyzed arm and leg. Motorized wheelchairs, trained care givers, ramps, roll-in showers and other adaptations assist people with mobility issues, but there are no grab bars on the beach. Sand and water are not friendly to crutches, walkers or wheelchairs. I'm a polio survivor who fortunately only needs a cane to get about, but sand stops me in my tracks.

According to the Hawaii Parks and Recreation office, beach accessibility is the number one inquiry from island visitors. Efforts have been made to address this issue through shoreline sidewalks, wooden walkways and additional reserved parking. Easy water entry is now possible with Mobi mats, durable plastic carpets that provide a path across sand into the water shallows.

When Eric joins others for his Sunday morning paddling he is part of a new program started in 2007 named "Kalamak u", a ministry of Kona's Mokuaikaua Church. "Kalamak u" (the Torch) uses the outrigger canoe as an instrument for building strength and recovery of the whole person. The monthly Sunday outings are an adventure for the soul who is too often discouraged from trying the unknown. I climbed into a "Kalamak u" canoe only a year ago after watching from the shore for twenty years as others enjoyed the sport.

Two men have made the water a friendlier option to Eric and others with limitations: Brian Boshard and Mesepa Tanoai. Mesepa, of Samoan heritage, knows how being one with the water can change the spirit. After high school years as an accomplished all-sports athlete, Mesepa found drink, a mean -spirited companion that ballooned him to 245 pounds and sent his life on a downward spiral. Canoeing brought him new friends, a new purpose and a strong healthy 190-pound frame. His restored physical prowess led him to lucrative jobs in the hotel and cruise ship industry and in film stunt work. Mesepa told me it was Aka Hemming's Honolulu project, "Pure Light", that opened his mind and heart to adaptive sports for physically and developmentally disabled persons.

Every fourth Sunday Mesepa organizes canoe seating, fits life jackets, and transfers Eric and others from wheelchairs to canoes. He acts as steersman for the one-mile adventure out in Kailua Bay. According to Eric, the best part is his ritual dunking, the salty baptism he requests at the end of the run. Second best is the `ohana (family) sharing of free lunch under tents with the rest of the wet and sandy paddlers, volunteers and families.

Eric used to be an active athlete and professional pianist. Things are different now. Physical therapy demands much of his time. Eric paddles with his functional right arm, but believes the extension and pull action helps strengthen his affected left arm. Some rehabilitation specialists think it is possible that the repetitive motion of paddling can restore unused or damaged neural pathways. Others say that the ocean experience triggers early positive emotions. To those who live confined lives, increased mobility and emotional awakening are attractive motivations to get out in the sun and water, nature's therapy.

I visited Eric in his adapted studio apartment on the grounds of his family's home. Special equipment, design modifications and a male caregiver support his daily efforts at recovery. His home physical therapy program is slow and often discouraging, however his goal is to leave his brace and wheelchair within the year. With walking comes more social contact, physical freedom and renewed courage. Eric claims, "I have lost the memory of the experience of walking, but it is coming alive again."

Mesepa's partner in "Kalamak u" is Brian Boshard, a Hawaiian pastor at Mokuaikaua Church. Brian is no stranger to pain, but sports-related injuries, bone spurs and arthritis barely slow him down. Brian earned a Masters degree in adaptive physical education from the University of Hawai`i at Manoa. He has taught in special needs programs at Kealakehe Intermediate School on the Big Island. His expertise is not just professional, as his heart transcends mere diagnosis. "I relate to people by their name, not their disability label," Brian told me. "My reward is the smiles, laughter and request for one more turn at the paddles." His goal is to embrace a variety of physical conditions: the visually impaired, quadriplegics, cerebral palsied, amputees and the developmentally disabled. Brian empowers people to do their "personal best", to go beyond the fear, beyond the public exposure of braces or orthotics, beyond the sight of their imperfect bodies in contrast to society's value of six-pack bodies and movie star beauty.

The five main Hawai`ian islands are venues for interisland canoe races crewed by hardy paddlers who can battle the strong channel winds. This healthy competition is part of the island tradition. However "Kalamak u" has a different goal, not competition but confidence building. Requirements? The open water and the motivation to push the body one more inch, one more stroke. For me it was taking a risk to try the untried. For every canoe passenger with a limitation there is an able-bodied paddler for instruction and encouragement. The bowman sets the brisk pace by calling "hut" every 15 strokes, the command to switch paddling sides. There is little fear of capsizing (huli) as the canoes are outfitted with outrigger extensions (ama) for stability. The more daring paddlers actually instigate an unexpected huli just for the thrill and a good story for the supper table that night.

Aside from tales of shark sightings the most exciting talk story to share with the `ohana must have been that of the mountain sledders of old Hawai`i. Now extinct, mountain surfing (He`eh olua) was the extreme sport of the nobles or ali`i nui. Starting at 1,000 feet, the sledder careened down the steep mountain to the sea on a narrow wooden pallet with runners. The sled sped down a lava runway laid with slippery grass and lauhala leaves. Just surviving was a badge of courage that reinforced a man's position in the tribe. The longest known slide was a mile long and ended with the sledder flying into the sea, reports Herb Kane in Ancient Hawaii. I found a handsome replica of this unusual sled in the Holuakoa Café in the town of Holualoa.

He`eh olua, along with spear throwing, boxing, wrestling and cliff jumping have been replaced with gentler sports, the most popular being papa he`enalu (board surfing).

Just a few inches of board between me and the mild Pacific water. Taste the salt. Hear the whoosh of the surge. I'm hurled forward on the crest of a wave, fly toward the shore on the wings of water . . . heart pounding with life!

On May 28,2008 a gathering of 191 people with disabilities, caregivers, family and volunteers celebrated a unique occasion at Kahalu`u Beach - "Surf Day"! I was among the 76 people who not only discarded braces, walkers or wheelchairs, but were riding the waves. Those of us who had only admired the ocean from a distance were now surfing, sitting or prone, with ride-along lifeguards for extra stability. Muscled volunteers carried us over the sand on a Mobi mat to the waiting boards - twelve were in action that day. My memory holds the thrill of the adrenalin rush as my board surged to shore! We emerged happy, sticky and sandy. We emerged overcomers.

Rick Green, a Merchant Marine and fishing boat captain, promises, "The feeling of riding an ocean wave will last a lifetime." Captain Rick owns the family-run business, "Hawaii Lifeguard Surf Instructors", but "Surflessons" is their free service to the community. Semi-annually they co-sponsor a "Surf Day", similar to Honolulu's "Access Surf," that is growing in popularity.

In the 1900's Olympic gold medalist Duke Kahanamoku and other Hawai`ian athletes rode their boards into a new era of surfing for pleasure, notoriety and competition. Surfing mania spawned music, movies, products and a carefree lifestyle. Remember the Beach Boys and Gidget, beloved icons of the 60's?

The music may have changed but surfing is still a vital part of Hawaiian tradition that includes the protocol of blowing the conch shell, chanting, and pule, a blessing by an esteemed elder. I look forward to the local grinds of teriyaki chicken, sticky white rice and poke (raw fish and seaweed) that close out the day. We may be alone on our boards out on the water, but on land we come together to celebrate tradition, `ohana, and above all, food. As Captain Rick reminds us, "Surfing is Hawai`i's gift to the world."

Early surfers rode 20-foot long boards but today wave riders use buoyant light-weight boards of fiberglass and epoxy, just the right ingredients for those of us not favored with strong perfect bodies.

My friend Rosemary Ekert once raced her then-perfect body in local competitions in the 1980's: the 10K Volcano run across lava fields and the 60-mile Hilo to Waimea relay. After three years in Okinawa with the Army, she returned to Hawai`i to work as an x-ray technician. But life has a way of interrupting dreams. Double by-pass surgery was necessary in her 40's, followed by small cell lung cancer that carried a solemn prognosis, only a few months to live. A humorous side effect of her illness was short-term memory loss. She could not recall the doctor's prediction of imminent death so she carried on as if she had a full life ahead.

Another interruption occurred at age 54 when her left leg was amputated and she was fitted with an artificial limb. The perfect body had been ravaged by surgery, radiation and chemotherapy, but her spirit endured. A bronze tan and spiky hair of many colors completes the picture of a feisty overcomer, a woman of determination and abundant optimism.

Rosemary works along side her husband on their recycling hobby, drives their pick-up truck and dances hula with her walker with her church halau (hula group). "Quitting is not an option. All things are possible," says Rosemary, "You are only as handicapped as you choose to be. My biggest challenge was removing my artificial leg in front of onlookers at the beach." This step was as life changing as actually riding the waves as it was a public acknowledgement of her disability and her owning of her imperfect body. She still struggles to keep a positive attitude and needs to carefully monitor her artificial leg so that it does not create skin infection.

"I want to go beyond what I did with two legs," she vows. Watch for the blond one-legged surfer coming in on a five-foot swell in the twilight hours at Kahalu`u Beach. All things are possible!

Just getting in the ocean is a big hurdle for many of us. "I saw disabled people sitting on beaches just watching, not involved," said Rick's partner Keahiolani Robbins. Keahi's paraplegic brother, a result of a bicycle accident at age 16, was his personal motivation to change that picture, to convert observers into participants.

Keahiolani ("light of the heavens") is the perfect name for this genial island man with a wide smile. Keahi has surfed since the age of 14, his biggest wave being 24 feet. Keahi has brought light and joy to the blind, deaf and severely physically disabled simply by letting the surf hit them in the face.

Keahi explained to me how Internet technology provides important safety information. Computer programs now predict water conditions by tracking tides, currents and wind. Information from ocean buoys identifies the direction and strength of waves. Only the daring go out in dangerous water because the sea often has no mercy.

The newest fast-growing water sport is stand-up paddling. The July 18, 2008 issue of USA Today devoted seven columns to this surfing variation of standing on a board using a long-handled graphite paddle for power. Every day I see stand-up surfers on Kailua Bay weaving their way through practicing canoe teams. The best photo op is the bikini-clad beauty with her ride-along dog. Waves are not critical to this kind of surfing because the skill lies in balance and endurance. Even lakes and rivers can be venues for the sport. Because the board can support two riders, it could be the next challenge for people with vision or hearing limitations.

Keahi and Rick have compassionate hearts as they serve the less able rather than the profit margin. Like outrigger canoeing, surfing builds physical strength plus patience and humility. Water has healing properties that the Hawai`ians call mana or life force. Eric and Rosemary and I agree that the endorphins released after intense exercise leaves us feeling strong and elated. This mindset encourages us to one more turn at Pilates, the incentive to walk one more block than the day before, or indulge in one less macadamia nut cookie.

Waiting on the shore to welcome all the Erics, Rosemarys and Jeans are Mesepa, Brian, Makana, Rick, and Keahi ready to help them run the race, . . .to run on water.