05/26/2026
A windy day, a bright yellow kayak
By Beth Jacobson
It was one of those days where the sky looked like it had just gotten out of a spa—fresh, glowing, and showing off.
The kind of weather that practically shoves you out the door and says, “Go do something slightly adventurous, you human.”
So naturally, I decided to go kayaking.
Now, the kayak in question was a very confident bright yellow.
Not just “oh that’s cute” yellow—no. This was “I can be seen from space” yellow.
The kind of boat that says, You will not lose me… but you might lose your dignity trying to get into me.
And that’s where the real story begins.
There I was, standing beside this radiant banana of a vessel, feeling strong, capable, outdoorsy… like someone who absolutely knew what they were doing.
That illusion lasted about 3 seconds.
Because as I attempted to lower myself into the kayak with grace—something between a swan and a yoga instructor—my rumpus had… other plans.
There was a moment. A very long moment.
One foot in. One foot hovering. One hand gripping the side like I was negotiating a hostage situation.
And my rumpus?
Suspended. Questioning life choices.
For a split second, I truly believed I might just… live there now. Half in, half out. A permanent monument to poor balance and overconfidence.
The wind, which had been “wonderful” just moments before, decided this was its time to shine.
It gave a playful little gust—as if to say, Oh, we’re doing this? Let me help.
I wobbled, lord for a brief moment I didn't know how it was going to turn out.
The universe held its breath.
Somehow—somehow—I managed to commit. A small, slightly ungraceful plop later, and I was in. Victorious. Slightly crooked.
But in.
From there, it was magic.
The water shimmered, the wind danced across the surface, and that same breeze that nearly took me out earlier now felt like a gentle guide, nudging me along like, See? I’m not the enemy. I’m just chaotic support.
I paddled, I drifted, I had those quiet little moments where everything feels expansive and peaceful… and then immediately remembered the entry situation and laughed out loud like a lunatic on a floating highlighter.
By the time I came back, I felt like a seasoned kayaker. A professional. A woman who had faced adversity (a.k.a. her own balance) and triumphed.
Of course, getting out of the kayak was… a whole separate chapter.
But that’s a story for another day.
