Experience the Last Paddler Standing with Mike Carson // Cruel punishment & self torture!

That's me, paddling the same three mile loop every hour, on the hour, until my arms and legs fall off. And I'm not the only one. There are 31 other paddlers doing exactly the same thing. And here's the fun part. It doesn't end until there's only one person left. The last paddler standing. Round and round and round again. It's like the plot of Groundhog Day, but with no Bill Murray or a cheeky groundhog. It's showtime, Phil. This all sounds like some sort of cruel punishment, yet we all spent our own hard-earned money for the privilege of this self-torture. I spent most of my life pursuing athletic events that challenged me physically and mentally. I've run 100 miles, paddled across Missouri, and even walked in a circle for six days. This one would be especially unique. I invested my time and energy in training, I had money flying out to Florida, and checked my peace of mind in deciding to do this whole thing without the help of crew. What else was I missing? Oh right, probably rational decision making. But hey, what's the fun in that? So here I am at the start of the second annual last paddler standing race. Keeping it cool, chatting with other paddlers about paddling until we can't paddle anymore. It's 9am and we're off. I'm caught off guard with how deep the water drops off and find myself struggling to get past a section of thick weeds, almost falling off my board in the process. I now realize I'll never be fully dry when paired with Florida's dripping wet humidity. Now past the obstacles, I take a lap past the first buoy and to the first long stray away. This will be the first lap of the course for me, so I'll savor the novelty, or the time being. Lap one, the wind's pretty quiet. Knows it's going to be a long day. Really cloudy out here, not a ton of sun exposure, but it's humid so I have to drink a lot. Might just get out in the water. Nathan Benderson Park, located in sunny Sarasota, Florida, is a world-class venue featuring a long straightaway, a short straightaway, followed by another long straightaway. Each has a buoy turn to spice things up. And on the perimeter is a walking path where casual observers watch as all my hope and positivity slowly fades away. On the backside of the loop is Regatta Island, where the course grows narrow, flowing under two bridges. And lastly, the final 0.333 miles and buoy turn brings us back to the start, where a six-story high watchtower offering 360-degree views keeps an ever watchful eye on us. It's a useful landmark in case one gets lost. Loop one is complete. Well, almost. On each loop, you must take your board out of the water, walk around the race banners to the holding area. Now, I'll scurry over to my impromptu home base with the time I have left over. On this lap, I have a nice cushion of 15 minutes. With so much time left over, let me give you a tour. I have this lovely picnic table, chair, and yoga mat, graciously provided by the event. Tour over. With no crew, I'll attempt to complete two of the three. Refill my water bladder, eat, sit, fiddle with cameras. All right. Or use the restroom. It's not long before race director and evildoer Greg Wingo blows his whistle, letting us know we have two minutes until the start of our next loop. Failure to start the next loop in time will mean a disqualification. But I prefer my torture to continue. Thank you very much. I bet you can't guess what loop two is like. Wrong. More scenic views of the park and Florida's wildlife. I'm told alligators inhabit these waters, which is why we are not allowed to carry food with us. I don't think my inflatable board would survive, so I'll cross my fingers that this is only a precautionary measure. Meanwhile, on lap three. It can get boring out there paddling these loops. No music or a change of scenery. Hey, this is a great time to talk about the sponsor of this video. Wind. Hours and hours of refreshing wind creating nonstop fun. Not that boring calm water. No, thank you. The only cure for boredom, progressive heat and humidity is paddling into headwinds for hours on end. Why would I want to keep my board straight when paddling on one side is so much easier? Forget all that changing sides business. Hours of sustained winds have thinned out the field as daylight fades on our battleground. Weather, managing nutrition, fiddling with cameras and pushing buffer times are taking their toll. I never thought I'd say this, but the two minute warning whistle just isn't as fun as it used to be. Having an average of 48 minutes per loop actually gives me 10 minutes when subtracting the travel time to and from my home base. At an occasional bathroom break, which is strategically planned at the beginning or end of a loop, this quickly becomes a game of extreme efficiency. While I'm paddling, I calculate how many tasks I can perform during the break. And if the list is too long, I take a mental note for the next loop. Each task has a priority. Food, water, and relieving myself are high on the list. And it's not long until cameras require more maintenance than I can afford, leaving me with half-assed footage. It all becomes a carnival of chaos. It's been a pretty eventful day. We'll see how the night goes. The night hours are some of my favorite. The volume dial of the day has been turned down and the awareness of my surroundings amplified. I lose track of time for hours on end, lost in the moment. The swishing sound of my paddle pushing water past my board surrounds me in a cacophony of insects gossiping about humans paddling in circles for an indefinite amount of time. I snap out of this when I realize I am growing closer to the back of the pack. The paddlers who were frequently behind me during the loops are dropping, placing me closer to the last person to finish each loop. This prompts me to push harder, a patch to a problem with a price. Instead of eagerly seeking the refuge of night, I now desperately need the energy of light to shake off the dreariness of predawn hours. Being clueless of the time, I realize now that it must be close to 8 a.m., making it almost 24 hours from our start. I'm doing a bad job at controlling my thoughts, arguing back and forth if I should continue. My body aches, and my pace has slowed even further. It feels as though a decision was made without my permission, yet in the moment, I feel comfortable with it. I paddle the remaining loop, reflecting on my journey and final choice. Paddling the final stretch, I spot a volunteer who has been helping record times. He already knows that I'm going to drop before I announce it. The signs of defeat are almost impossible to hide. I take my board out of the water for the final time. 79.92 miles in 24 hours isn't so bad. Greg signs my race number and hands me a poker chip. No longer standing as we run across the top. Very fitting. It's the end of my journey, but not the end of the race. I return the next morning to a very different park. It's quiet and subdued, but the race is very much the opposite. It's the end of the 47th hour and start of the 48th. Five people remain in the race's final hours. One of those is Lindsey, the remaining female, who has blown away all expectations. Bruce, proudly representing the UK. John Nippers, a tour de force of the sub world, second place finisher from last year, and only a few months out from paddling the Alabama 650. Alex, completing his loops with the same energy and flair as if it were his first loop. And Blake, executing his loops with determination without hiding his emotion. Everyone is dealing with a mixture of their own issues, but no one escapes sleep deprivation. Greg begins to brief the crews for the 49th loop, increasing the mileage from 3.33 to 5. No one has started this loop, let alone this many paddlers. Lindsey comes in from her 48th loop. So Lindsey has reached her goal of 48 laps and she is calling it a day. She's hit her goal. An incredible effort, putting her in a league of her own. The final four are preparing for the unknown. Just in time, the wind has picked up to make things even more difficult. John leads the lap, leveraging the efficiency of his 19 foot unlimited board. Alex, Blake, and Bruce are in pursuit. The five mile lap is new territory on a very familiar course. Alex and Blake managed to break away, giving them a sizable lead on the group. Now approaching the new buoy turn, Blake pushes ahead, taking the lead from Alex. The wind is making buoy turns more difficult, especially for John with an additional five feet to manage. It's an ominous looking scene with dark clouds filling the sky and the wind increasing in strength, adding another level of challenge to completing a five mile loop in one hour. Now back in familiar territory with Blake increasing his lead by a sizable mile on Alex, despite paddling into a strong headwind. Making their way to the final stretch of the course, Blake continues to hold his lead with Alex in pursuit. They both make the cutoff. An incredible feat and history in the making. The clock is ticking with John and Bruce still out on the course. Anticipating the events unfolding, Alex sits down with Blake to have a one-on-one. Surprisingly, Blake starts the lap alone. Alex has withdrawn from the race, an act of true sportsmanship. A very emotional moment. Alex let Blake go. I think Alex knew that if he went, both of them weren't going to be able to put in another two laps. John and Bruce are now arriving at the beach, but not in the clock's favor. A monumental and emotional effort for both. That was the hardest lap of the whole two days. It was crazy out there. I couldn't even go straight. With one paddler remaining, Blake must now finish one lap on his own to earn the title of last paddler standing. We've got a pretty epic ending coming up. The race isn't over yet. Blake still must finish this loop in time. If he fails to do so, there will be no winners this year. I mean, he ain't going to make it by a real comfortable amount. It's going to still be, you know, he's got to make sure he doesn't let up too much. Crossing my fingers and checking my watch, I spot Blake on a final stretch. Oh yeah, that wind is kicking now. It's directly into it. It's not going to be a problem. I just got it. Looking strong into the final buoy turn, now 50 laps down and time to spare, we cheer on our last paddler standing. 2023 last paddler standing race event. If you mentioned you paddled in a loop every hour for however amount of hours, you'll get some pretty weird looks. Who or why would you want to do that? A valid question to which I would answer, I prefer reruns on the water instead of television. I choose to experience new things, push my mind and body to uncomfortable places, to be a part of a community that values the pursuit of hardship and the reward of trying no matter the outcome. We'll keep coming back because we can't stand knowing we didn't put in all our chips on experiences that make us better humans.