Flat water, reasonable 5-7mph winds. We had 2 women's singles (including me) and 1 men's single out on the water this morning. There was a lone sculler out before us, and the Bay Blades had a quad that went out after us.
If you have not noticed this week, but at the top of the finger, coming out of the drain, is this disgusting, nasty looking, green gunk along with the usual trash that floats into the lake. If you look closely, the gunk is actually many little "beads" of green. From a distance, it looks like we are rowing on top of a green lawn. According to another sculler, this nasty looking stuff is called duckweed, an aquatic plant that grows in freshwater. During heavy rain storms, such as the one we had earlier this week, the duckweed flows down from the Lake Chabot reservoir and into the lake. I suppose that duckweed is better than some other nasty stuff that you can find in the lake and estuary.
This morning, I woke up and I just knew what I wanted to do for a workout on the water:
1. 3x2,000m race pieces, finger to log boom
2. 4x500m race pieces, log boom to dam and back
Once the idea was formed in my head, there was no way to shake it out, but to suck it up and do the workout. Kind of like with an erg test. Wonderful.
Because of the different workouts, warm-up time, and desired intensity, I ended practicing on my own in the single. The beauty of the single is that there is no one to hold you back, but then, there is also no one to keep you company. The pieces were alright, not the prettiest, but the effort was there. The set was a little shaky with a few air strokes here and there. In a single, I am 99% certain that anything wrong with the set or the feel of the boat is because of me and has nothing to do with the boat. In Wisconsin, I had flipped my single twice in practice, which was quite embarrassing, especially when the men's coach had to help me get back into the boat. I swore I was doing everything right to balance the boat--level hands, body centered. I was so frustrated and finally worked up the courage to ask my coach to check the rigging of the boat. He checked it and found nothing wrong. I felt pretty stupid. In a single, you are usually the problem, not the boat. Some days, no matter how hard you try, you just cannot get it right. And, that is perfectly normal.
Each of the 2,000m pieces today had a start, and I forced myself to do the normal start sequence with 20 strokes high. I am deathly afraid of the 20 strokes high because in the past, I have never really had the fitness to do 20 strokes high in the start without having it bite me in the butt later and cause me to fly and die. Not a good feeling. In fact, I used to have a bad attitude about starts. I thought starts were a bad idea because they put you directly in anaerobic zone and then, expect you to row the remaining 1,900m without dying. Then, again, I thought a 32spm was a bad idea too. With time, practice, and maturity, my attitude has changed. During a start, instead of dreading every stroke, I am actually, as generic as it may sound, thinking, "Yes, I can do this. Yes, I can." What a difference in mindset, and it helps to have the fitness to back it up.
During the pieces, I also thought about keeping my knees together as I come up the slide. I noticed that when I keep my knees together, it helps to prevent me from lunging at the catch. In addition, it reminds me to come all the way up the slide and somehow, it allows for a better catch connection. I feel less of a forced catch and disjointed drive. It took me a long time and a lot of yelling at from my Wisconsin coach and from Dede before I could keep my knees together. Habits are hard to change and take time to change. I have been frustrated so many times with my technique. A week and a half into camp at Wisconsin, my coach got tired of telling me the same things--quiet catches, quicker catches, longer in the water. He finally had enough and simply yelled at me, "When I tell you to make corrections, make them. Don't keep rowing the same way. At least show me that you're making those corrections." Painful to hear, but it did light a fire under my butt.
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