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It took only about a second at the top of Riversport Whitewater Center for reality to hit me.
I was sitting in an inflatable kayak, about to go down the world championship and Olympic course.
“No pressure,” Riversport director Chris Sorensen said with a laugh. “You’re sharing the course with the Italian medalist.”
Oh, great.
As part of The Oklahoman's series exploring the rise of canoe slalom in Oklahoma City ahead of the 2026 ICF World Championships and 2028 Olympics, I naively agreed to take on the same whitewater course as the best in the world — as an amateur.
And yes, nearly 400 athletes from 50 nations were already there training.
More: Why is 2028 Olympic canoe slalom in OKC? It started with a 'crazy idea'
As I stepped off the golf cart and into the duckie — the inflatable, more stable version of a kayak for people like me who don’t know what they’re doing — I saw Marta Bertoncelli.
The Italian canoe slalom star waved in my direction. At me? I have no idea. But I nervously smiled and waved back. I wasn't about to leave a two-time Olympian hanging.
That was the second moment I got nervous.
The first came about 15 minutes earlier when I heard the reporter who went before me had fallen in.
But I already had all my gear on: a helmet with a waterproof camera attached, a life jacket strapped so tightly it was hard to breathe (or maybe I was just breathing harder) and the cheap water shoes I bought on Amazon the day before, when I learned flip flops weren't allowed.
There was no turning back now.
My first challenge was stepping into the duckie without tipping it over.
Challenge complete.
The guide then pushed me in the water and explained the basics: how to paddle, how to turn, how to not flip – that was the one I paid most attention to.
More: Canoe slalom 101: Everything you need to know about the Olympic sport coming to OKC
Then he smiled and said, "You're ready."
You sure? I thought.
Thankfully, he paddled in front of me. And another guide followed us on land with a rope. I think it was supposed to be reassuring, but I couldn’t help but wonder why I might need a rope.
We first went down a small launch ramp. I called it the point of no return.
It felt like that moment at the top of a roller coaster when you start rethinking what you’ve gotten yourself into before the first drop.
At least it was a small drop. Not that bad.
Then came the rapids. I had one goal: Don't fall in!
I paddled left, right, left, right to keep the duckie straight. The first wave came, splashed me in the face and soaked my lower half.
Here we go.
To my own surprise, I was staying upright. The guide had told me that keeping the bow downstream and staying in the middle of the narrow chutes were the keys. Somehow, I was doing just that.
More: How will 2028 Olympic canoe slalom venue work? A look inside OKC's whitewater center
The first few rapids were easier than I expected.
Then the guide pulled over to the side. For a second, I thought I did something wrong.
“That was Level 1,” he said. “Now is where it gets harder.”
That was the first time I heard there were levels to this thing.
I gave a nervous “Ok.”
We went down another chute … and another … and another. I lost count.
The current kept getting faster. Every wave seemed determined to shove me sideways and make me fall off. The duckie suddenly didn't feel so stable anymore.
I dug deep, relying on every bit of arm strength I had to keep paddling as evenly and quickly as possible.
There was one point I thought I wasn’t going to make it. I blinked, and suddenly I was backward. BACKWARD.
All I could think about was the reporter who had fallen in before me. This can’t be the moment. Not today.
I don’t know how I was able to turn it around so fast before another drop, but thankfully my fight-or-flight instincts kicked in and got me back on track.
A couple rapids later, I looked up and realized I had made it through.
Mission accomplished! I hadn’t fallen in.
“That was it,” the guide said.
More: OKC spent 7 years landing 2028 Olympics events, much of it in secret, an inside look
I let out a huge sigh of relief.
“Now we just get to coast through these gates.”
Feeling a little too confident, I decided to try weaving through them like the professionals.
Instead, multiple white poles were hitting me in the face. I was quickly done with that.
We paddled toward the stairs, stopping just before another launch that would have sent me into the competition channel. I paddled with everything I had to avoid drifting that way.
As I stood up, both guides told me I'd done well.
"You were the perfect client," one said. "You're a natural,” said the other one.
Maybe they were just being nice, but I’ll take it either way.
The athletes deserve all the credit for making it look effortless. I went down the beginner version and was just happy to make it down the river in one piece without taking a swim.
Amanda Avila is a sports intern for The Oklahoman. Have a story idea for Amanda? She can be reached at [email protected] or on X/Twitter at @avilaonair. Support Amanda's work and that of other Oklahoman journalists by purchasing a digital subscription today at subscribe.oklahoman.com.
This article originally appeared on Oklahoman: What's the whitewater course like at Riversport OKC? We hopped on the rapids to find out
Continue reading...
I was sitting in an inflatable kayak, about to go down the world championship and Olympic course.
“No pressure,” Riversport director Chris Sorensen said with a laugh. “You’re sharing the course with the Italian medalist.”
Oh, great.
As part of The Oklahoman's series exploring the rise of canoe slalom in Oklahoma City ahead of the 2026 ICF World Championships and 2028 Olympics, I naively agreed to take on the same whitewater course as the best in the world — as an amateur.
And yes, nearly 400 athletes from 50 nations were already there training.
More: Why is 2028 Olympic canoe slalom in OKC? It started with a 'crazy idea'
As I stepped off the golf cart and into the duckie — the inflatable, more stable version of a kayak for people like me who don’t know what they’re doing — I saw Marta Bertoncelli.
The Italian canoe slalom star waved in my direction. At me? I have no idea. But I nervously smiled and waved back. I wasn't about to leave a two-time Olympian hanging.
That was the second moment I got nervous.
The first came about 15 minutes earlier when I heard the reporter who went before me had fallen in.
But I already had all my gear on: a helmet with a waterproof camera attached, a life jacket strapped so tightly it was hard to breathe (or maybe I was just breathing harder) and the cheap water shoes I bought on Amazon the day before, when I learned flip flops weren't allowed.
There was no turning back now.
My first challenge was stepping into the duckie without tipping it over.
Challenge complete.
The guide then pushed me in the water and explained the basics: how to paddle, how to turn, how to not flip – that was the one I paid most attention to.
More: Canoe slalom 101: Everything you need to know about the Olympic sport coming to OKC
You must be registered for see images attach
Then he smiled and said, "You're ready."
You sure? I thought.
Thankfully, he paddled in front of me. And another guide followed us on land with a rope. I think it was supposed to be reassuring, but I couldn’t help but wonder why I might need a rope.
We first went down a small launch ramp. I called it the point of no return.
It felt like that moment at the top of a roller coaster when you start rethinking what you’ve gotten yourself into before the first drop.
At least it was a small drop. Not that bad.
Then came the rapids. I had one goal: Don't fall in!
I paddled left, right, left, right to keep the duckie straight. The first wave came, splashed me in the face and soaked my lower half.
Here we go.
To my own surprise, I was staying upright. The guide had told me that keeping the bow downstream and staying in the middle of the narrow chutes were the keys. Somehow, I was doing just that.
More: How will 2028 Olympic canoe slalom venue work? A look inside OKC's whitewater center
You must be registered for see images
The first few rapids were easier than I expected.
Then the guide pulled over to the side. For a second, I thought I did something wrong.
“That was Level 1,” he said. “Now is where it gets harder.”
That was the first time I heard there were levels to this thing.
I gave a nervous “Ok.”
We went down another chute … and another … and another. I lost count.
The current kept getting faster. Every wave seemed determined to shove me sideways and make me fall off. The duckie suddenly didn't feel so stable anymore.
I dug deep, relying on every bit of arm strength I had to keep paddling as evenly and quickly as possible.
There was one point I thought I wasn’t going to make it. I blinked, and suddenly I was backward. BACKWARD.
All I could think about was the reporter who had fallen in before me. This can’t be the moment. Not today.
I don’t know how I was able to turn it around so fast before another drop, but thankfully my fight-or-flight instincts kicked in and got me back on track.
A couple rapids later, I looked up and realized I had made it through.
Mission accomplished! I hadn’t fallen in.
“That was it,” the guide said.
More: OKC spent 7 years landing 2028 Olympics events, much of it in secret, an inside look
I let out a huge sigh of relief.
“Now we just get to coast through these gates.”
Feeling a little too confident, I decided to try weaving through them like the professionals.
Instead, multiple white poles were hitting me in the face. I was quickly done with that.
We paddled toward the stairs, stopping just before another launch that would have sent me into the competition channel. I paddled with everything I had to avoid drifting that way.
As I stood up, both guides told me I'd done well.
"You were the perfect client," one said. "You're a natural,” said the other one.
Maybe they were just being nice, but I’ll take it either way.
The athletes deserve all the credit for making it look effortless. I went down the beginner version and was just happy to make it down the river in one piece without taking a swim.
Amanda Avila is a sports intern for The Oklahoman. Have a story idea for Amanda? She can be reached at [email protected] or on X/Twitter at @avilaonair. Support Amanda's work and that of other Oklahoman journalists by purchasing a digital subscription today at subscribe.oklahoman.com.
This article originally appeared on Oklahoman: What's the whitewater course like at Riversport OKC? We hopped on the rapids to find out
Continue reading...
