Shrugging The Pain Away

A recent kayaking excursion reopened some old wounds for Olly Mann

 

I have just been sea kayaking. This would be an unlikely event at any stage in my life, as my track record with watersport is woeful. (Waterskiing terrified me, and I once went fishing but became so bored I spent the entire time observing the bait wriggling in the tupperware.) It’s especially surprising, though, because this is the first time I’ve attempted any shoulder-based sport since I first dislocated my shoulder eight years ago.

The initial dislocation was at my friend Steve’s wedding; or, more accurately, at the pre-wedding japes in the Canadian Rockies (he married a Canadian. If only he’d hooked up with his high school sweetheart from Hitchin, my shoulder would have been saved).

I was 29, had never been skiing, and took the advice of my snowsporty mates that I should do a trial lesson on a dry slope first, before heading out to Lake Louise. To my astonishment, I found the dry slope lesson relatively easy, and didn’t fall over once. So, when I got to Canada, full of false confidence, I overenthusiastically donned my skis at the rental centre, attempted to ski over to where the lesson was due to begin, lost my balance, and fell backwards on to hard ice.