I grew up in a kayak. By the time I was a teenager, I knew how water moves: where the rocks hide, where the surface lies about the depth, where the current will flip you if you fight it instead of reading it.

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In whitewater, panic is the enemy. You do not muscle through. You learn the river.

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My career in production has felt the same. Fast water. Last minute changes. Crowded boats. For years I treated every wave like an emergency. If I just paddled harder, I thought I could save the whole thing.

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At some point I stopped asking, "Can I survive this?" and started asking, "Do I want to run this line again?"

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Kanu exists because of that shift.

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We respect how launches really move. The messy middle. The late feedback. The point where most teams start to spin. We design for that reality instead of pretending it will not happen.

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The work flows. The team stays rested. The boat stays straight.

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Not because we can absorb anything you throw at us. Because we have learned the river and we choose how to run it.