 |
| Lake Merritt Rowing Club trailer at PVM; one 2x, two 4x's, one 4+, one 1x |
My mixed double’s partner is quite the enthusiast for this regatta, volunteering to organize it and volunteering to row a mixed double entry for the full marathon. I was tempted by the idea of doing a marathon, and I guess this year was the year to actually try it out. A marathon, whether it’s a running marathon or a rowing marathon, is an event that often appears on people’s bucket lists. The distance is daunting, but yet there’s something official when you can say that you have done a marathon.
A marathon is about equivalent to ten full lake loops at Lake Merritt. Two weekends before PVM, we spent Saturday morning rowing around and around the lake for a total of 26.4…nautical miles, approximately 30.5 “land” miles. Note: You should always check the units of your GPS first before you start rowing.
The start of the PRM was so causal, almost mind-boggling for rowers used to officials, stakeboats, start flags, etc. Once the coxswains/coaches/bowmen/rowers meeting concluded, anybody ready to launch launched. There was a small warm-up area, but essentially the dock was the start line—no flag, no sign. When we rowed by, I was not sure if we had started or not.
It took about 15 minutes of rowing before I felt truly warmed up and comfortable. The first half of the marathon went by fairly quickly, with other boats to look at and landmarks that my Mx2x partner pointed out. For the first 8 or 9 miles out, the water was slightly choppy, making it harder to row cleanly. There was one motor boat that drove by at mile 7 or 8. The wake was large enough for us to stop and hydrate while riding it out. As the river widened and the turns became barely noticeable, the water flattened out, making it exciting to feel the extra run of the boat.
As we approached the Route 37 bridge—the halfway and turnaround point, we saw a two-person outrigger canoe (OC2) and a men’s single already heading back. I was a bit surprised by these two boats ahead of us because we had passed most of the other marathon boats by mile 7 or 8. At the bridge, we stopped and turned while cramming a mixture of almonds, dates, and raisins into our mouths to refuel.
The first few miles back felt strong with calm water despite the slight headwind. I craned my neck around to try to spot the outrigger canoe and the single, but failed to see them. They must have been farther ahead than I had anticipated. My Mx2x partner noted that if we could keep up this speed, we could be close to the course record of 2 hours and 58 minutes. At some point, at a major turn in the river, we passed the paddle boat on our starboard side. The two paddlers looked up, smiled, and said, “Good job!” to which my Mx2x partner replied, “You too!” I was focused on the single, whom I had caught of glimpse of right before the turn.
For the next few miles, before the half marathon turnaround buoy, we chased the single, which, from a distance, had appeared to be an Empacher 1x. Once we finally pulled even, the Empacher turned out to be a light yellow Hudson, still a beautiful boat.
With less than a quarter of the race left, I was starting to get irritated. First, I had been hungry to pass that single for 6 miles and once we passed it, I had wanted us to push away from the single faster, making the single become smaller and disappear from our view. The single was quite tenacious and managed to stay in our view for some time. Second, what the PRM regatta brochure had promised to be a "fun" course with “gentle S curves” ended up being a devilish course on the way home (who wrote the brochure anyway?!). With my poor eyesight and my lack of mental ability to process the course map taped in front of me, I could not tell where the next turn was or if there even was a turn. The scenery along the course was beautiful, but everything looked the same—like one big, vast grassland. I could see where my steering suffered, and I damned the river.
In the last few miles, I thought about staying effective through the water, hanging onto technique. Somewhere close to the end, a motor boat drove by, generating a massive wake that poured almost five inches of water into our boat. We rowed the last 2,000 meters with whatever little was left in the tank. As we rounded the turn on starboard side, my Mx2x partner said that this is it—the home stretch. I only believed him once I saw the dock and even then, I was not sure where the finish line was until we heard the horn.
At the end, I was not exactly sure what to think. I was exhausted, but even more relieved to just be done. I was frustated with my back-and-forth steering in the second half, not knowing what line to hold. We came in at 3:07, missing the course record of 2:58. A difference of nine minutes--almost 2,500 meters--might sound like a lot, but where could we have squeezed out nine more minutes? Close, but not close enough. My thought was, "Shit, does this mean we have to do this again?"
 |
| Petaluma River Marathon 2011 |
No comments:
Post a Comment