Gold Rush

The finish line at Lake Natoma

Saturday was the Gold Rush Masters regatta up in Sacramento, at Lake Natoma.  I raced in two events--the Women's Master single (1x) and eight (8+).  Gold Rush race entries can be found here, and race results can be found here.  

I thought I was nervous last weekend for PCRC in the single.  Can I tell you I was even more nervous for Gold Rush?  Because the masters rowing distance is only 1,000m compared to the collegiate and open rowing distance of 2,000m, there is little room for error.  A poor start can set you behind for the rest of the race.  Starts in a single are tricky—apply pressure unevenly and you can find yourself struggling to stay afloat.  It took me a long time to get something down that even resembled a start sequence.  In fact, for most of my single races, I just took a half slide stroke and rowed.  No wonder everyone would pass me on the starts!

With a port to starboard cross wind, I sat at half slide and took tiny strokes to stay on point.  My boat holder was struggling to keep her grip on the boat as I adjusted.  

Attention, GO!  My start sequence was alright, and I cannot remember if I did 15 or 20 strokes high (memory loss) before the settle.  In the first 5-10 strokes, however, the woman in the lane next to me flipped.  There was a moment’s pause where the rest of us were unsure what to do.  I know breakage is the usually first 100 meters, but I do not know the exact rules or if it applies to singles or who calls breakage—the rower or the officials?  Without a signal from any of the officials, we kept rowing.  I was even with and maybe slightly up on the rest of the field in the first 250m.

Womens 1x at Gold Rush;
photo courtesy of Annie M.

When the buoys turned from yellow to green, marking 250m down point, I thought about the body of the race—my favorite part where you have your rhythm and swing locked in and you just row.  Through the middle of the piece, I was probably about a boat length up.  I say “probably” because looking out at the other lanes from the corner of your eye does not give you very good perception.  Plus, I have trouble judging perception, another reason I do not play ball sports.

As we approached the beach and the tents, I could hear cheering for a "Krystal," probably the name of one of the other girls.  It did not matter if the people on the shore were cheering for a Krystal, a Michelle, or a Julie.  I pretended they were all cheering for me.  I took all that positive energy and funneled it into my sprint.  I forgot my course for a moment and was blown to starboard.  My oar hit one of small lane buoys (how embarrassing!).  I quickly readjusted and then, crossed the finish line.

I felt much more relaxed for the eight race.  With a coxswain at the helm and sitting in five seat, all I had to do was row (i.e. row on starboard and try not to catch a crab).  Due to the different boat age average, the start of the eight was a counting start.  Out in Lane 7, our start number was 9.  Lane 6 and us had the same start number, and we were the last two boats to leave the line (i.e. the youngest boats in the race).  The starter said, "Attention, GO!  1, 2, 3, ....8, 9."  It is very odd to hear the word GO and not go, but sit there and wait for the right number.

In the eight, our start was messy, and I felt like the boat was down to starboard, making it difficult for me square up properly.  My inside hand actually hit the gunnel once on the recovery.  Maybe it was just me, not having rowed starboard for awhile.  The boat came together as the race progressed.  It took us awhile to pull ahead of Lane 6, but we were moving up on the field at the same time.  

For the entire race, I stared at one thing--the outside shoulder of the woman in front of me.  I followed that shoulder, trying to sit up tall and match every movement.  In my head, I drew an imaginary line from her outside shoulder to my outside shoulder.  This helps me from lunging or dropping my shoulder down at the catch, unless of course, she is doing so herself.  

The sprint was fast, strong, and above all, clean.  Fast and strong are useless without clean and efficient bladework.  We crossed the line in second, behind Marin.  

Fast and aggressive.  This is 1,000 meter racing.