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.
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| Cal Lightweight Men Varsity 4+, carrying the Flying Bear at HOA |
Valuable lessons are often learned the hard way.
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#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
- NAC - 21:13.19
- BIAC - 21:31.96
- LBRA - 22:20.15
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