Monday, December 12, 2011

BIAC Corkscrew 2011

The Head of the Lagoon may have been the last head race of the season, but it technically was not the last race of the year.  This year, the honors went to the BIAC Corkscrew regatta.  Like the BIAC Fall regatta, this one also has wickedly windy course, hence the name "corkscrew."

The race is actually held in Port of Redwood city waters and is nine miles long (compared the to the typical head race of 3.1 miles or 5k).  With no formal pre-registration, the regatta is very casual with entries recorded and tracked on paper and pen (and results written on a white board!).  About half of the rowers were from BIAC, but a number of brave souls traveled from Lake Merritt, Marin, Los Gatos, Stockton, Berkeley Paddling and Rowing, and North Bay (Petaluma).  Costumes were encouraged, but luckily not required!
Crab and chef-themed crew from BIAC
Mx2x partner with Dan Borg, an accomplished rower and a Berkeley High alumnus,
in his awesome yellowjacket costume; yellowjacket is the Berkeley High mascot

Registration opened at 7am, but crews did not really start moseying until about 8.  Many teams borrowed BIAC boats, and there was almost a shortage of slings with teams checking out their boats and making adjustments.

Pre-race inspection of two K4s; hard to tell in photo,
but the K4 is about as long as a rowing 4x shell
It was quite a surprise too when two really fit men (who looked like national team material) started climb a ladder to the BIAC roof to pull out a four-person kayak, apparently called a K4.  This particular K4 had not been rowed in a while, and they spent a good thirty minutes patching it up.  I profess to know nothing about kayaking with the exception that it takes a lot of upper body strength and and it is supposed to be slower than rowing.  I am also not particularly fond of kayaking.  My only experience in a kayak was on an outing with the husband, and I was so cross the whole time because I felt like I was going nowhere.
A relatively crowded BIAC boatyard; photo courtesy of Joe M.

For the Corkscrew, I was rowing the mixed double.  My Mx2x partner and I were borrowing a BIAC boat.  In a quick excursion, we took the boat out to check the rigging--a lesson that I learned the hard way--before boats began launching.  Eights and quads launched first at around 9:20am, supposedly followed by fours, doubles, and then singles, but the order became blurred as boats launched whenever they were ready.  The Stanford and the Port of Redwood City docks were also available to crews.

BIAC docks--BIAC 1x and 4x (crab and chef-themed) launching;
photo courtesy of Joe M.

We waited around until all the big boats had left, including the K4s.  We launched, and it was about a short five to ten minute row to the start line, across from the Stanford boathouse, marked by a red buoy and a launch.
Pre-race photo; waiting around to launch 
At the start line, I had expected to see a crowd of boats, jockeying for space.  Instead, crews started whenever they were ready, and the start launch simply wrote down your bow number and start time as you went by.  On the warm-up, we had already seen many eights and quads, as well as a men's single, go down the course.

Before the race, my Mx2x partner was quite excited our competition, a men's double from LMRC's San Francisco Bay Blades (SFBB) and rowers whom we knew.  It is always more fun when you know the competition personally, but in general, I tend not to think about the competition.  It builds additional stress, and I believe that your best races come from within, not without.  If anything, your biggest enemy is yourself.  Yes, it is exciting to have competition right next to you, breathing down your neck, but whether you cross the line first is more about how well can you hold onto your technique, efficiency, and power and less about whether your competition will falter.  Maybe it is a naive perspective, after all, I have had only a handful of close races.

We saw the SFBB 2x at the start line, but by the time we turned and lined up, they had already left.  With the stroke coach reset and the extra clothing layers removed, we started.  We took a few strokes to build and settled into a rhythm, still feeling our bodies warming up.

The first section before the first major turn in Smith Slough felt alright.  Either from the normal excitement at the start of a race or from not rowing together since October, the boat felt solid, but did not have any extra run or smoothness.  As we approached the turn, a slower women's 2x that had started before us, was also turning.  We lost a bit of time, rowing half pressure behind the 2x since passing is strongly discouraged in that turn.  A pier juts out on starboard side and a row of parked boats lines port side.

Once we were clear, we quickly passed and I could see several different boats up ahead.  This section was relatively wide with a gentle curve.  The water was calm, but not quite glass-like flat.  As we came around the next major turn at the end of the slough, we took the inside of the turn, trying to pass a BIAC men's 4+, which was in turn trying to pass a BIAC men's 4x.  The 4+ coxswain, sandwiched between us and the 4x, had to steer tightly.

We passed by smoothly and watched the two boats battle down the straightaway.  On this section, we passed a BIAC women's intermediate 4+ dressed as pirates and a women's 4x dressed in white costumes of some sort.  I was beginning to feel the dull tiredness in my legs, and I wondered if we were going to hold our rate for the rest of the race.  The boat needed to feel more together, and the run needed to come more easily.  Nine miles is a long way to go.

As we approached the major turn into the actual corkscrew slough, my Mx2x partner asked where the SFBB boat was.  Up to that point, I was not focused on the looking for the other boats and I had not seen the SFBB double at all.  When I looked, I spotted a double that had already turned and appeared to have stopped rowing.  The next time I looked, they were rowing again.  They had cut the corner on an island that sits at the mouth of Corkscrew Slough.  In high tide, there is water between the island and the starboard side shore and appears as if there is enough room to pass.  Unfortunately, the water is shallow, and the double had been temporarily stopped in mud.

We rounded the turn on the outside of the island.  I could see the other double more clearly now, and it was the SFBB.  My Mx2x partner looked around a few times, and I felt a little annoyed.  It is hard not to look out of the boat when the competition is close by or when the course is new to you.  Although the boat felt solid, there were a number of off-strokes where we lost the set at the catch or our timing was off.  For the most part, many off-strokes came from my steering and trying to look behind.  We already had one head rocking the set, no need to add a second.

After the first corkscrew turn, which was a mild turn to starboard, we were following the SFBB 2x with about three lengths of open water.  Ahead on our port side was a BIAC women's bowloaded 4+ that was on point to converge with us.  Coxswains in bowloaded boats cannot see behind them and must rely on their crews to relay when a boat is approaching.  The 4+'s coxswain quickly adjusted, and we managed to squeeze by.

The second corkscrew turn is a sharp hairpin turn to port.  I tried to stay near the starboard shore to guarantee that we would not swing to wide out of the turn.  The third and fourth turns were less sudden, and we followed the SFBB 2x, slightly gaining on them.

In the straightaway between the fourth and fifth turn, we passed the SFBB 2x on the starboard side, also the inside of the next turn.  Although we had gained on them earlier, it took almost the entire straightaway to pull even with them.  When we did pull even, we were overstroking them, but only gaining a little bit of ground each stroke.

Any ground we did gain, we promptly lost going around the fifth and sixth turns.  Taking the inside on the fifth turn put us too wide for the sixth turn.  The SFBB 2x took the inside on the sixth turn and we were relegated to the outside.  Although we were still even with them on the turn, we had to row extra to keep up.

On the seventh turn, we lost more ground to the SFBB due to my steering us too wide again.  There was a near collision of boats between the SFBB 2x and a women's 4x at the turn.  The SFBB escaped safely while the 4x over corrected and had another near collision with an 8+ rowing on the far side.  We took this turn too close again and ended up too wide.  After seeing how far off we were, my Mx2x partner called for a stake turn, holding on starboard and rowing arms and back with port.

At this point, I was frustrated for gaining ground and then losing it back because of steering.  Nobody likes to pass only to be passed by the same boat.  I had been unsure earlier if we should try to pass the SFBB 2x.  I knew that the SFBB bowman is much more experienced steering and with the corkscrew course. I thought it might have been advantageous to trail behind them, watching and copying their course, but the Corkscrew Slough is a long way to sit behind someone.

In addition, although the water was calm, the water felt heavy as if there was a headwind.  It was only after the race did I learn about the incoming currents that fill up Corkscrew Slough.  There is an incoming current from the end of the corkscrew to about turn 4 or 5 that pushes against you.  We needed to row cleaner, to squeeze a little bit more run from our catches, and I needed to pay more attention and follow my partner more closely.

We rounded the eighth corkscrew turn about two or three boat lengths behind the SFBB, but I keenly watched and followed their course.  The last turn was out of the corkscrew and into the bay finally.  We had gained on them slightly, but then lost a bit on the turn when I called the turn a little late.  We stayed about two boat lengths of open water along the straightaway, avoiding various channel markers.

The very last turn of the race was to starboard and with about 250 meters from the turn, I called a "250," but my Mx2x partner was confused about what the call meant--250 to the finish line or 250 to the other boat.  Fortunately, he did not start sprinting because we actually had about another 300 meters to finish after the turn.  Mentally, I could feel exactly how much we had left, but I could not properly translate it into meters.  As soon as I had called "250," I realized that I was wrong.  250 meters is approximately 30 strokes, and there were definitely more than 30 strokes left.

When I finally did call the right distance, we sprinted.  As we passed the start/finish line launch, in tune with the casualness of the regatta, there was no horn, no official sign that the race was over.  It was a hard row, chasing the SFBB and while we sprinted at the end, so did they.
Results posted on the white board; our boat was called the Chataranga

The race was longer than I had imagined in my head.  Despite the poor steering, it was fun to have survived the wild turns of the corkscrew.
So glad the race was done

Friday, December 9, 2011

Head of the Lagoon 2011

Last head race of the season—Head of the Lagoon! 

BIAC trailer at HOTL

Only one highway exit away from where the BIAC Fall regatta took place the weekend before, the Head of the Lagoon (HOTL) is also known for its curvy course with the added fun of bridges.  I had never been to the HOTL before, but had heard good things, especially when LMRC captured the Women’s Masters 4+ trophy last year.  The HOTL trophies, mostly for master events, make the regatta unique and exciting.  It almost feels like a smaller, more relaxed, head race version of San Diego Crew Classic!

My first experience at HOTL was complicated by the fact that I had a 3pm flight out of SFO the same day.  I would be traveling to the east coast to meet with our client for the first time for my new job.  I had originally wanted to race a pair on this windy, twisty course.  But by fate (and probably also fortune), the pair’s race would be cutting it really close for my flight.  I was already racing in a BIAC team boat in one of the earlier races.  My LMRC pair partner and I decided to turn the pair into a double so we could both squeeze in two races and be done by 12pm!

HOTL started a few days before the actual race date (Sunday, November 13th) with a string of emails from the race director about where to park, why not to publicly urinate, where to rig the boats, reminder to bring back previously won trophies, and other more normal things about traffic pattern and launching.  The HOTL has been growing larger and larger each year.  Apparently, it was so successful last year that there were not enough toilets for everyone, especially before 9am when the recreational center opened.  If your boat is launching and there’s a line for the port-a-potties, I guess you’ve got to find yourself a bush.

The morning began with plenty of parking in the designated parking garage.  The park area though was crowded with boats, rowers, and spectators.  Boats had to be unloaded and walked from the parking lot to the grassy areas to be rigged.

The weather was sunny, but a bit cold and windy.  The launching and docking area consisted of four small plastic, gray docks that each had a dock-master urging crews to launch or dock faster.  In order to move boats along quickly, rowers had to bring their oars with them to the dock and had to tie in on the water.

My first race was the Women’s Masters 4+ with BIAC.  I was nervous for this race for several reasons.  First, I was stroking and although I stroked at BIAC in the 4x, there is something different about sweeping (one oar) versus sculling (two oars).  Second, last year’s LMRC 4+ rowers was back to defend their title with only one line-up change.  Even our former team captain who moved away to Boston flew back especially for this race!  Third, my LMRC pair/doubles partner was in that LMRC 4+ and stroking it too!  And fourth, I had not rowed sweep in a while, and we had not practiced in our line-up.

The rec center did not open until 9am, and the 4+ race was at 9:40.  Between 8 and 9, there was a massive line for the port-a-potties that snaked around the parking lot.  I wish I had taken a picture because it was really ridiculous.  Instead of standing in that line, our coxswain had the brilliant idea that we should wait in front of the rec center and be the first ones in to use the real bathrooms when it opened.  The only problem was that 9:00, 9:05,…9:10 passed and the glass doors remained sealed.

Luckily, by now, the port-a-potty line had died (since everyone who had to go, also had to launch) and we did a quick pit stop and got hands-on the boat.  The launching area for HOTL is about 3,500 meters from the start line, making it a short warm-up.  There is also very little space at the start to do any warm-up strokes.

We rowed to the start and had to wait as all the 4+’s got in start order.   LMRC, as reigning champions, started first.  Typically for head races, boats are seeded by speed, fastest first.

We started 5th in our race.  The start was strong, and I could hear the breathing of the woman behind me (in three seat).  The first section of the race has two bridges and some mild turns.  We passed one of the 4+’s fairly easily.  The first big turn is about a third into the race—a sharp 90 degree turn to starboard.  Our coxswain who is quite experienced pulled it off rather nicely. 

Between that first big turn and the next one, we passed the launching area.  Our coxswain made several calls, letting us know that we were gaining on the boat ahead of us.  She called up the rate and power, trying to pass the 4+ before the next bridge.  If you want to see the real action, check out the video here.

We successfully passed the 4+ and went under the bridge.  The next and last section of the course is a wide, long turn to port.  The boat stayed strong, but still struggled with some set and cleanness issues.  Because the finish line was not well-marked, our coxswain had a difficult time seeing exactly how much farther.  I had mentally underestimated how long this section was and kept wondering how much farther until the finish.  I was very relieved to finally cross the line.  It was a hard row and very stressful to stroke.

The race was harder than I had expected, and now, I was worried about jumping into the double for the next race.  I reminded myself that the double was supposed to be just for fun, but 5,000 meters is still a lot to row for just “fun”!

The LMRC 4+ managed to hold off the River City boat and crossed the line first.  And we later found out, as with the usual time delay for results at head races, they did win and retained the title and the trophy!

My 2x partner and I were very luckily to have teammates who helped us rig and de-rig boats so that we could go from the 4+ to the 2x with only a short break. 

The Princess riding her two-legged horse at HOTL
While we were preparing for the 2x, I was surprised to see a familiar-looking guy with dark curly hair, carrying a squirmy toddler.  That was my husband and the Princess!  This is the guy who does not believe in rowing and the guy who will probably never be reading this blog.  Wow, I was the luckiest rower at the regatta! 

Rowing is not a spectator sport.  Any non-rowing loved ones will learn quickly enough to avoid regattas at all costs.  Regattas for spectators are a dull experience of waiting around, not knowing what is going on, and only brief moments with the actual rower before he or she has to get hands-on the boat and launch.  The only die-hard loved ones who might come to watch are usually parents.
The Princess eating grapes at HOTL...
anything to keep her from crying...
We launched the 2x and rowed up to the start.  We were starting last in our race of five boats.  At the starting area, about 100 meters from the actual start line, I recognized the coach in the launch as the one who helped a very frazzled me adjust the Van Dusen rigger on the water at Head of the American!  More importantly, he recognized me!  How embarrassing!

We eased into our race, trying to stay relaxed and not worrying too much about rate.  In the first stretch, we quickly passed two boats, one of whom appeared to be a relatively novice crew from BIAC.  I could see the two other boats ahead of us.  We had initially gained on them, but then, had lost a bit of run or smoothness in the boat.  We managed to pass both of them before the first big turn, and I was hugging the inside of the turn.

Unfortunately for us, I was not thinking straight.  On such a sharp turn as this, about 90 degrees, hugging the turn usually puts you out too wide after the turn because your boat cannot turn so sharply.  I did not realize this until it was too late.  I thought, “Shit.”  Right as we were coming around, the water got choppier and there was a massive gust of wind.  We had a few off strokes where the boat wobbled and our blades missed water.  For some reason, my partner said, “Sorry.”  She had nothing to be sorry for.  I was the one steering us too wide!

We lost a fair amount on that steering mistake to the two boats that we had just passed.  I knew we needed a lot of time and distance between us and them to make up for the age handicap.  The Ashland Rowing Club boat had 114.9 seconds on us, and they had beaten me before in the 2x due to that handicap.

We regained our ground and soon pushed farther ahead.  The rough water became flat as we passed the third bridge and the swing and run were back in the boat.  We saw a fast junior crew from Stanford Rowing Center that had moved up quickly, but we stayed ahead of them.  The row to the finish felt strong. 
Photo with 2x partner
With the time lost on the turn, we had no idea if we had beaten the age handicaps.  Regardless, the race was hard and fun.  Now, we needed to row back to the dock to hot seat the boat for a LMRC Men’s Masters 2x and for me, to get to the airport. 
Photo with LMRC teammates, some of the winners from the 4+!
Womens Masters 4+  (average age, elapsed time, adjusted time)
  1. Lake Merritt Rowing Club (41, 21:49, 21:28)
  2. River City Rowing Club (35, 21:42, 21:35)
  3. Bair Island Aquatic Center (34, 22:01, 21:56)
  4. Marin Rowing Association (61, 24:07, 22:02)
  5. Marin Rowing Association (57, 24:04, 22:27)
  6. Humboldt Bay Rowing Association (52, 23:35, 22:28)
  7. Lake Merritt Rowing Club (27, 22:54, 22:54)
  8. Los Gatos Rowing Club (44, 23:29, 22:58)
  9. Bair Island Aquatic Center (41, 23:36, 23:15)
  10. Los Gatos Rowing Club (61, 25:33, 23:28)
  11. Los Gatos Rowing Club (54, 25:54, 24:36)
  12. Bair Island Aquatic Center (50, 28:31, 27:34)


Womens Masters 2x (average age, elapsed time, adjusted time)
  1. Bair Island Aquatic Center (32, 23:05, 23:02)
  2. Ashland Rowing Club (60, 25:06, 23:09)
  3. Los Gatos Rowing Club (64, 26:37, 24:10)
  4. Bair Island Aquatic Center (53, 30:18, 29:05)
  5. Humboldt Bay Rowing Association (40, 32:08, 31:50)



BIAC Fall Regatta 2011

It’s hard to believe that head racing season came and went in a flurry already.  Every year, right in the middle of the season, I tell myself NOT to sign up for so many damn races.  Racing can easily devour most of your weekend and leave an unhappy husband and child waiting for you at the end.
Boats at San Mateo Marina Park for the BIAC Fall regatta;
copyright John Young
 This year’s BIAC Fall regatta was on the sixth of November, a Sunday.  I had never done this regatta before, but it and the Head of the Lagoon (the following weekend) are notorious for the twisty, winding, man-made courses tucked away in the quiet neighborhoods of San Mateo and Foster City, respectively. 

The weekend started off with cold and rainy weather on Saturday.  All the BIAC volunteers, myself included, met that day to review our roles and prepare for the next day. 

Sunday began cold, but dry, and the skies eventually cleared for a wonderful, crisp fall day.  I had volunteered for the early morning, 5am trailer parking shift.  I arrived to a dark, deserted San Mateo Marina Park where a number of trailers had already arrived the day before.  Someone had generously left a folding chair, and I sat on the chair, under a street lamp. 
Men's Masters single from BIAC; look at that flat water!
According to other BIAC rowers, the BIAC regatta is typically a relatively good-sized regatta.  The parking lot is usually packed with trailers with no room to rig, and boats are crowded onto the shore.  This year, due to the Newport Autumn Rowing Festival (NARF) happening on the same weekend, participation was unusually low—less than 100 entries.  NARF is the Southern California version of Head of the American.  Many junior and college crews will travel to NARF.

By 8am, all the trailers were parked and luxuriously spaced in the parking lot.  All except for one—the Marin trailer.  Several Marin scullers were anxiously waiting and actually missed their race.  On the way to the regatta, the Marin trailer had gotten a flat.  A little after 9, their trailer finally pulled in.  The scullers who missed their race were still able to race the course and have their times counted.

Marin sculler - David
Marin sculler - Bill
 I had one race—the Women’s Open 4x.  There were no other boats entered in our event so it was really just going to be a pseudo-race.  It was also my first race in a BIAC team boat.

Boat photo

Warming up
Our row went well.  We started out at about a 28spm and remained there for most of the race.  The water was relatively calm, but a headwind pushed against us and got stronger towards the end.  As we passed the launching area with about 1,000 meters left to go, I started wondering where the line was.  We passed the line, just ahead of two singles from the new Oakland youth rowing program.
During the race
During the race
I was lucky not be in bow and not have to steer the crazy course!  The buoys were small and at some points, it was hard to discern where the actual course was. 
San Francisco Bay Blades 4x at BIAC Fall Regatta;
copyright Nancy Brown
 Despite being a smaller than usual, the regatta went smoothly.  After my race, I was anxious to be at home after three consecutive weekends of racing.
LMRC Men's Masters 2x; copyright Nancy Brown

Sunday, December 4, 2011

Head of the American 2011 - Part 2

If you can remember back to over a month ago, there was such an event called Head of the American.  Between then and now, much, in the form of work travel, Thanskgiving, family, friends, Indian weddings, etc., have taken place.  Need a refresher?  Read the Head of the American race report Part 1.
Cal Lightweight Men Varsity 4+, carrying the Flying Bear at HOA
 ----

Valuable lessons are often learned the hard way.

----

#4.  Always check your rigging....preferably before you launch.
The time between the 2x race and my 1x race was packed with derigging the 2x, loading the trailer, finding more water (see Lesson #1), watching the 2011 US National Team 2x of Julie Nichols and Kristin Hedstrom come down the course, catching up with a few friends, and walking over to the Sac State boathouse to prepare for my 1x race.

I had been pretty scatter-brained the whole day and in preparing for the single was no different.  I was borrowing Dede’s beautiful Van Dusen single for my race.  Note that this was not my first time rowing this boat.  If you have ever met Dede, you will attest that she’s about coxswain size.  If you have ever met me, you can attest that I am most definitely not coxswain size and barely even lightweight size.  In the past when I had borrowed Dede’s boat, I always had help making the rigging changes.

This time, I was still very lucky to have help from my Mx2x partner, but in my anxiety to change the boat’s single winged rigger, I completely forgot to change out Dede’s tiny sized-shoe footboards to larger sized ones.  In my indecision on whether to launch with the possibility of having too much or too light warm-up time, I launched a little later than expected. 

The shoes fit very snuggly, but that did not raise any alarms in my head.  I started rowing and my blades dug deep, throwing off the boat’s set.  No alarms went off in my head.  It is normal to feel less comfortable in a new boat, especially one that is narrower and may require more technical skill. 

I continued wobbly rowing for about 30 strokes before massive panic alarms went off.  Dede’s footboards placed my legs much higher up that my knees almost came up to my chin.  More importantly, somehow the angle was off or the rigger was misplaced that I had absolutely no clearance at the finish unless I had a massive lay-back.   If I sat at the finish, my hands ran right into my rib cage.

I needed to move the rigger back towards bow to just have some clearance.  The problem was that for Van Dusen’s, the winged rigger, which attaches the footboards with a quick pin release system, must be entirely unscrewed and lifted from the main hull in order to be moved.  If you do the math right, a Van Dusen without the rigger is the same as a slim, tipsy floating shell that will capsize.  That is, you cannot change a Van Dusen’s rigging on the water, by yourself.  (Maybe in a Van Dusen double and only if your partner has an uncanny ability to set the boat.)

I desperately rowed to the start line while trying various modifications to my stroke to be able to row.  5,000 meters is a long way to row without being able to clear the finish.  It becomes less about racing and more about being able to row decently and without injury. 

About 500 meters from the start, the NAC (Newport Aquatic Center) single in my race rowed up to me, and since we knew each other from five or six years ago, I explained to her my predicament, frantically pointing to the rigger and explaining how great and how horrible the Van Dusen design is.  I could feel hot tears welling up in my eyes.  She was very sympathetic and suggested beach docking on the shore or trying to row at a higher rate with a short stroke. 

At the start line, the other single in my race, from LBRA (Long Beach Rowing Association), pulled up.  Seeing that I was trying to flag a coach down, she asked me what was wrong.  Asking what is wrong is sometimes the wrong question as I could feel the tears now rolling down.  After understanding the situation, she reminded me that it’s okay, sometimes things go wrong, and you just try to roll with the punches. 

About five minutes before our race, a coach came by, and I was rather very awkwardly, clumsily change the rigging so that I could at least clear the finish.  Taking the rigger off was the easy part.  Without being able to flip the rigger over, as easily done on land, to see exactly where to move the footboards, I was desperately, blindly trying to align the footboards, rigger, and pins.  There was a moment when I was afraid I would not be able to put the rigger back on and we would have to drag the skinny hull and rigger 5,000 meters down to the finish.  I was finally successful, although it definitely took more than just five minutes.  The regatta had been run on-time with no hitches, except for now the delayed start of the Women’s Open 1x and all the races afterwards.

#5.  Have fun.
Minus the rigging glitch (see Lesson #4), the single race went well.  I started out strong and hit a much higher rate than I had expected and actually managed to keep it there. 

Throughout the race, I thought about the wonders of being able to race against the NAC and LBRA singles, women I had known of for almost all of rowing career.  I thought about how many more years of rowing and racing against each other we might have and I felt lucky.  I felt like this was “fun.”

It was fun to be on the water, to be at such a madhouse regatta, to see so many rowers, to see so much competition, and to see, cheer, race friends.  At the end of the day, I still have one or two (actually, many more) lessons to learn about rowing and racing, but I guess that’s just part of the process.

Womens Masters 2x Final
  1. NAC - 21:13.19
  2. BIAC - 21:31.96
  3. LBRA - 22:20.15