I wasn’t really listening. Entrance Exam, the first rapid, was like a test you had to pass to earn the right to venture downriver to the real rapids below. I had failed the Entrance Exam, and I didn’t belong here. All I was thinking was, How do I let Rob down easy, tell him I’m quitting this sport, that it’s not for me, even though he’s already put so much time and effort into trying to coach me? I just wanted to go home to my wife and kids. I missed them intensely and should have been at Arjun’s soccer game rather than flailing and half drowning down a man-made river in North Carolina!

17

I may have been ready to call it quits, but not Rob. He suggested we move off the main course to the “instructional channel” until I built back some confidence.

I forced open a sliver of light in my mind, knowing Rob had done his typical thing, throwing his foot out before the door could slam shut. He was offering me a way to move forward, even though it involved taking yet another step back. So, for the rest of my time at the center on this first trip, I stayed in the instructional channel.

The channel only had three small waves—with easy drops into flat pools—before it flowed back into the main channel, right into the same pool where I’d wound up after my swim. I’d get down to that pool, pull over, and hike my boat up to the top, over and over again.

On my second trip to the Whitewater Center, I graduated from the instructional channel back into the main course, ending in the pool where I’d washed out on my first swim. In three days, I had ten runs, five successful rolls, and two swims.