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

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 13^th) 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 5^th 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

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

A Family Affair

Our Thanksgiving week was spent in a chaotic whirlwind of events, largely dominated by my close friend’s wedding. 

I was really looking forward to this momentous, joyous occasion.  My friend and I lived in the same dorm freshman year, joined the same sorority, and throughout the years, have grown closer and closer.  She has seen me in my best and worst moments, including those tough times with rowing.

Group of friends, including the new bride; old photo from college

My friend is Indian, and she most certainly had a traditional, week-long Indian wedding.  A wedding is supposed to be an once-in-a-lifetime event.  So, what is one week of ceremony, celebration compared to the rest of your life together?

I have been to an Indian wedding before and had some idea of all the events and ceremonies, but every wedding is different, depending on the couple, family, customs, and religion.  Ready for a peek into this Indian wedding?

Day 1.  Hindu ceremony on bride’s side to mark the beginning of the wedding (no idea what the ceremony is called).  Women only. 

The ceremony was held at the bride’s house.  The bride sat in the front of the room, facing a wall lined with religious items and offerings.  A Hindu priest led the ceremony.  He chanted various prayers and spoke to the bride in a mixture of Hindi and Gujati.  My friend is from a northwestern province of India called Gujat. 

Halfway through the ceremony, the priest offered the bride a few important words on marriage.  Important enough that he repeated them in English.  Marriage requires two things—sacrifice and understanding.  Sacrifice to put the other person ahead of yourself.  Understanding that your marriage and the other person are more important than you being right all the time. 

Although the rest of the lecture on marriage was in Gujati, before I knew it, all the other women especially the mother, aunties, grandmothers were all reaching for the Kleenex box.  I could feel my eyes watering because I have been married for only the smallest amount of time and I already know that I lack a little in the sacrifice and understanding department.

The ceremony concluded with each of the women taking two sticks, one dipped in a yellow paste and one dipped in oil, and touching the bride’s feet, knees, shoulders, and head four times. 

Day 2.  Mehendi ceremony on bride’s side. 

Mehendi is a fun, more casual event where the bride and other women have their heena done.  In this case, the bride’s heena on her hands and feet took almost six hours because of the complex patterns and delicate lines. 

An example of heena

When applied, heena appears like a black puff paint that has to dry and will eventually flake off, revealing a dark brown pattern or “tattoo.”  The “tattoo” is not permanent, but takes about 1-2 weeks to wash off.  The longer the black puff paint stays on, the darker and supposedly more beautiful the heena will be. 

The bride had to walk around carefully and had little use of her hands in fear of ruining the heena for a number of hours.  Yes, this means that she was got the ultimate princess treatment—sister, cousins at her beck and call.  Luckily, she did not drink very much water beforehand.

Indian weddings are true family affairs.  Not only do extended family near and far spend the whole week consumed with the wedding, but they are all involved somehow.  Here at Mehendi, many of the older women sat around a HUGE bucket of carnations, singing while snapping off the flowers and threading them to make a wreath to be worn at the final wedding ceremony.

Day 3.  “Rest.”

This day was Thanksgiving and thankfully, we got this day off.  The groom’s side, however, did have their Mehendi on this day.

Day 4.  Ceremony and Garba and Raas Dandiya.

The bride had a small, family ceremony on this day followed by larger, celebratory event with music, food, drinks, and dancing.  Garba and Raas Dandiya are specific forms of Indian dancing.  Garba involves hand movements and specific step sequences.  Raas, which I believe is from Gujat, involves dancing with two sticks and in a large even-numbered group.

Even the Princess made an appearance at Raas Garba

My short fling in college with Indian dancing was a mixture of the two forms, often called Raas Garba.  Luckily, all that learning then was not completely wasted.

Even the dancing is a family affair.  Everyone partakes—men, women, siblings, parents, cousins, aunties, uncles, long lost relatives, grandparents, children.

Day 5.  Pre-wedding and wedding ceremony.

For the bride, this day started at 3AM with hair and make-up.  Imagine that.  There was hair and make-up done every day and all the women looked beautiful in their colorful, sparkling outfits. 

The first ceremony on this day began in the morning with the bride’s side women giving the bride various gifts.  The Hindu priest led the ceremony again, and there was some form of a sing-off between the women.

After lunch, the next ceremony was at the groom’s temple since the groom was Sikh, a separate religion from Hinduism and originating in the Punjab region. 

The last, final, and largest ceremony was the official Hindu wedding.  The groom arrived atop a horse, heavily decorated with jewels and colorful fabric.  The groom’s family and friends led the horse around in the parking lot while dancing and celebrating.  Eventually, the music and dancing faded and the groom dismounted and entered the building.  Before he could approach the ceremony stage, the bride’s side women provided him a variety of religious or traditional offerings.  This ended with a fun tradition of the bride’s mother trying to pinch the groom’s nose. 

The actual ceremony began with the groom and his family sitting on one side and the bride’s family sitting on the other.  The bride was escorted up the aisle by two of her uncles.  She was seated across from the groom with a cloth separating them and a red thread connecting them.  The Hindu priest conducted several prayers or traditions before the cloth was dropped and the couple could see each other.  Then, the couple placed the carnation flower wreaths, which were made at the Mehendi, on each other. 

The ceremony continued with the several customs involving the groom’s and the bride’s fathers, symbolizing the joining of the two families. 

The bride leading the groom around the fire

The last part of the ceremony involved the bride and groom walking around a fire multiple times, each circle had a specific meaning.  The priest reemphasized sacrifice and understanding here.

The ceremony ended and gave way to dinner (although I doubt if the newly wedded couple even managed to get a bite to eat) and gift-giving.

The very long day concluded with the bride bidding good-bye to her family and leaving with the groom, marking her new life with his family.  The couple drove off slowly with several of the bride’s male relatives pushing the car, symbolizing the bride’s departure from her family.

Day 6.  Reception.

Despite Day 6 falling on a Sunday, the reception (of 400 people) began in the evening and went well through the night.  Filled with short speeches, a special dance performance, lots of picture-taking, delicious, rich Indian food, and a whole night of dancing, the reception was a joyous celebration end to a long week. 

With the beautiful bride

 The wedding was quite a marathon of events, but it was a good time to reflect and to learn a few things too.

1. Family is important.
2. Marriage requires sacrifice and understanding.
3. Weddings are as much about joining two people as about joining two families.
4. Customs and traditions are often symbolic of greater things.
5. I think I have eaten enough Indian food to last me a whole year.
6. There is no age limit to dancing.
7. Celebrate the things in life that matter.

Head of the American 2011 - Part 1

Valuable lessons are often learned the hard way. 

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Beautiful day at Lake Natoma for Head of the American

If you have never been to the Head of the American (HOA) at Lake Natoma near Sacramento, the course is beautiful with only one gradual turn and water that is only mildly disturbed.  The wind is typically a tailwind and only on occasion becomes a headwind or becomes treacherous. 

The regatta itself is usually run with impeccable efficiency, but as with many large regattas, it is can become what Chris calls a “madhouse.”  Being a madhouse is one of the reasons HOA is so great—there are competitors who travel from LA, San Diego, Oregon, or sometimes even farther.  

HOA is THE Northern California head race.  Newport Autum Rowing Festival (NARF) is THE head race for Southern California, drawing crews from the Bay Area, Arizona, and farther.  Between the two, you are to find some tough competition.

Two weekends ago, I learned and re-learned a number of valuable lessons at HOA.

#1.  Always be prepared.  Better to be prepared the night before.

The preparation for a race should begin the night before—packing the clothes, gear, and food that you will need.  The night before HOA, however, my husband and I took the Princess to a wonderful Halloween costume event at the Palo Alto Children’s zoo.  Thankfully, the Princess already had a nice, pink Chinese-styled outfit that we could pass off as a costume.  What was she dressed as?  A Chinese princess, Chinese girl, Chinese doll, Chinese screaming terror.  Whatever works.

The Princess at Halloween,
wearing her Chinese outfit.

From the zoo, we stayed with my parents where Grandma and Grandpa could pander the Princess even more and hopefully give my husband a break from the Chinese screaming terror while I spent all of Saturday at HOA.

Needless to say, I was not very prepared for race day.  I had frantically thrown clothes into a bag before we left for the zoo, but did not have time to properly pack food, water, tools.  I had thought that I might be able to pack food from my parents’ house, but I had forgotten that they actually cook from scratch and did not usually have pre-made food ready to go.  A bundle of raw bok choy was not going to cut it.  I grabbed some apples and bananas and left the house at five in the morning. 

I managed to grab a coffee and some oatmeal from Starbucks.  My mixed doubles (Mx2x) partner also was much better prepared than me and kindly shared some delicious, homemade date and fig bars. 

It is not as if I would have starved.  Regattas typically have food vendors and clubs usually have a pile of community food to share.  From my lightweight days and binges after weigh-ins, however, I learned that I want to eat things that are fresh and make me feel good instead of eating heavy pastries or mouth-watering baked goods.  My team also loved to eat peanut butter, which is a great race day fuel, but not when you eat spoonful after spoonful of it.

Old photo from college, eating peanut butter

I also did not bring enough water.  I had half-anticipated the weather to be mild and cool, but weather was relatively warm for a late fall day in California.  Before my first race, I had already drunk all my water and forgot to get more before our hurried launch.  Luckily, we were able to snag a small water bottle from the BIAC team, but had the day been any warmer, that small bottle would not have been enough.

#2.  Never underestimate how much stress and nerves can unnerve you.

HOA is a huge regatta and amidst all the chaos and distractions, you have to be able to manage your own equipment, time, fueling, check-ins, weigh-ins, anything that could go wrong and still get to the start line on time.  When you have a coach to help you, things are a bit easier and the coach usually has all the bow numbers, safety pins, extra tools, electrical tape, race plan, hands-on and launch times ready.

I had forgotten how lonely, chaotic, and overall, more stressful it can be as a sculler without the supervision of a coach.  My first race was the masters 2x at noon followed by the open 1x three hours later.  The timing should have been enough, even luxurious, but I had squandered much of the morning catching up with old acquaintances, helping out, and scrambling for the little things, as seen from my lack of preparation (Lesson #1).  In addition, my Mx2x partner had a race at 10:30 and did not get off the water until 11:10.

By the time we hurriedly beach-launched (launching directly into the water and not from a dock), it was already 11:30.  Mentally, I was in near panic.  I knew there was a significant penalty to being late to the start and without having been on the course yet, I was unsure of how much time it would take to get there.  Thankfully, my Mx2x partner was of a much calmer mind and we arrived to the start with about five minutes to spare.

There were only two other boats in my 1x race and coincidentally, I knew both rowers personally.  After I had started rowing in college, I spent the subsequent summer in the Los Angeles area, rowing out of a small boat club.  There, I met the two rowers separately, and we all had the same coaches at some point or other.  Then, I had looked at them, as someone who gazes off at the moon, something so far and out of reach.  Although the two were at different points of their rowing careers, both were motivated and strong with a large amount of potential.  And I was not sure where in the picture I fit in. 

I had never raced them before, and HOA was the first chance in the five years since.  I wanted to race well against them, to see how far I had progressed and maybe places where I lacked.  Racing well means having your head in the game, being prepared, and eating up pain like it was good for you.  Although I am much more experienced now than five years ago, the stress, nerves, panic, and distractions before the race were a good reminder that there is still a lot that I have to master as a racer.

#3.  If you race in a men’s race, don't expect to make any friends.

Due to the order of events and timing between them, my Mx2x partner and I raced in a Men’s Masters 2x instead of the usual Mixed Masters 2x.  Now instead of having to pull my weight and age, I had to pull my weight, age, and sex. 

When we arrived at the start, we had about five minutes to spare (see Lesson #2), but our event was already lined up—eight other men's doubles ready to go.  As I steered the boat to cross the buoys into the starting area, the official flagged me down and told us to not cross, but proceed down to where other boats were continuing their warm-up. 

For a moment I was confused about why the official would not allow us to line up with the other men’s doubles.  Then, I remembered that we were probably the ones to confuse him.  The mixed 2x race was not for another hour or so.  

I replied to him that we were in this race, pointing to the other men’s doubles.  He looked down at his sheet and looked up, “You are in this race?  Men’s masters double?”  I responded, “Yes, we are.  Yes, I know.”  We were clear to line up, fourth boat to start. 

By this time and by the small commotion that we created, all the other boats were curious and we turned to find ourselves being stared at.  The stares became incredulous looks as they realized that we were in their race.  To top it off, my Mx2x partner who had done his research on the competition was feeling particular convivial and tried to strike up a conversation with the previous champions of this race, a crew from Ashland who had a massive age handicap on us and who looked none the pleased to race a mixed boat.

Typically in rowing, the two genders do not mix unless it is an explicitly stated mixed race where at least half the boat must consist of women.  On occasion, however, rowers can race “up”, i.e. race in a more competitive category.  For instance, women can race in men’s races and lightweights can race in heavyweight races, but not the reversed.  Just remember that if you are a woman racing in a men’s race, none of the men will be too thrilled.

It felt good to actually start racing so that everyone would stop looking over at our boat.  We started strong and settled into a good rhythm.  The boat ahead of us was struggling and we passed them quickly.  The next 1000 meters were spent catching the San Francisco Bay Blades double, one boat with friendly faces.  Then, if I almost completely turned around, I could see the Ashland boat much farther ahead of us.  I tried to make calls to focus on things that would generate more speed in the boat.  Sometimes the boat responded, and sometimes the set was just slightly off or our strokes not clean enough to gain more ground.  For much of the race, the Ashland boat had significant amount of open water. 

With about 1500 meters to go, I could see that the distance had closed, and I called a twenty, thinking that we would be able to catch them quickly.  I could see their boat moving away from the buoy line, the shortest course, and it seemed like they were yielding that course to us.  I severely overestimated our speed and underestimated their determination.  They hung onto that lead with about two lengths of open water and moved back towards the buoy line.  

In about the last 1000 meters, we took the buoy line and quickly closed on them.  From there, I could see them in the corner of my eye and we were soon bow-to-stern.  We could hear shouting and cheering from the shore, and I think I even heard my name.  We continued to move up, but for every stroke that we willed to propel us ahead, it felt like they dug deeper and fought harder.  We fought for every inch down the stretch and crossed the line just 1.1 seconds after them. 

My initial gut reaction was disappointment.  Disappointed that we needed every stroke of that race to count and that there were strokes in there that we could have done better.  Disappointed that when it came down to the end, we were not able to edge them out.  Disappointed that maybe if I had just given a little more, sat up a little taller we would have had them.

With a more perspective and level-headedness, we raced really well.  We started strong, were consistent, and finished strong.  Just a little more speed and quickness in the last 500 meters might have been enough to cross the line first, but you cannot ask for something that you do not have.  In the end, crossing the line would not have given us a win.  Due to the age handicap, we needed almost two more minutes to win.

Mens Masters 2x Final

1. Ashland - 17:29.97 (raw - 20:26.17; finish time at 12:20:42.60
2. BIAC/LMRC - 19:20.65 (raw - 19:28.45; finish time at 12:20:43.73)
3. MRA - 19:27.87 (raw - 20:59.77)
4. OARS - 20:24.54 (raw - 21:56.44)
5. RCRC - 20:58.35 (raw - 23:29.05)
6. Stan RC - 22:47.28 (raw - 24:00.68)
7. SFBB - 23:37.10 (raw - 23.37.10)
8. SRC - 25:50.05 (raw - 26:03.05)
9. PCDW - 30:01.64 (raw - 20:23.94)

Regatta results can be found here.

Wine Country Regatta 2011 - Part 2

Goodbye October and welcome November, already!  Wine Country regatta was two weekends ago, and it already seems to be a somewhat faded memory.

Read about the Wine Country regatta Part 1, race report of the double here.

After the double's race, my mixed doubles partner and I paddled to the North Bay Rowing dock to launch the quad.  The race was a mixed masters quad.  Mixed because at least half of the boat must consist of women, and masters because well, there was not an open race choice.  Now, I had to pull my weight and age.

More importantly, this mixed quad was to be stroked by our coach, Chris.  Chris has been around the Bay Area rowing scene for countless years and about two years ago, added the Lake Merritt Women's team to his list of coaching responsibilities, which include Berkeley High, Open Water Rowing, and Summer Youth Rowing.

There is something unnerving about rowing in the same boat as your coach.  Sure, in this case, I was sitting in bow with no one to see my poor technique or missed water except for the spectators and the cameras.  However, bow seat in a quad also steers the boat in a head race, and stroke seat can tell pretty clearly whether or not the steering is straight.

The last time I was in a the same boat as my coach was in the summer of 2009 (the same summer my brother and I rowed at the lake together) at Southwest Regionals, also held that year at Lake Merritt and also, in a quad.  Sitting in two seat, right in front of our coach, Dede, was pretty nerve-wrecking, especially at a time when I was just becoming comfortable sculling.  We ended up winning our race, even with the age handicap, but I never had the nerve to ask Dede how I did.

Left to right (bow to stroke): Dede, me, three seat, stroke or four seat

There is also a little secret about quads that some rowers do not know about and that I did not learn until after rowing with Dede.  If you have the right rowers in the boat, quads can be FAST and QUICK.  So fast and quick that it becomes hard to feel the boat.  You are almost not sure whether or not you are actually pulling.  In smaller or slower boats, including slower quads, you feel some heaviness at the catch and you can feel the water run under the boat as you drive and swing.  In a fast quad, you have to row differently.  Instead of emphasizing the swing, you have to think about just tapping the boat along, quick rowing without disturbing the speed of the boat.  It is a hard concept to think about and even harder to execute properly.  The Wine Country regatta mixed quad reminded me of why I have an almost allergic reaction to the quad, but a natural affinity to the single or double.

Left to right (stroke to bow): Chris, three seat, my Mx2x partner, me

The moment we started rowing in the quad together, there was a feeling of secret, unspoken surprise and elation--the boat felt GOOD.  The boat felt effortless as it glided through the water.  We reached the start line with a few minutes to spare, as we all waited for the last quad, a BIAC and Los Gatos Rowing Club quad to pull up.

As the first boat of four total to start, we quickly built to rate and settled in to a rhythm.  Perhaps, it was our nervousness or overexcitment, the change in direction of water, or my steering, but that secret magical feeling from the warm-up disappeared and we had to settle for "pretty good."  The boat ran smooth enough with a few dips to one side or another, especially when I looked back or steered the boat, using the rudder.

Learning from my course in the doubles race, I knew the straight sections of the course would be the hardest.  With uniform marshlands to look at and no outstanding landmarks as points, it could be hard to keep a straight course without constantly looking back.  On the second or third straightaway, right after a turn to starboard and at a large gap between marker buoys, I tried to stay close to the center of the river to catch the in-bound current, but overshot.  A nearby launch shouted at us and I quickly corrected my mistake, but not before you could see my mistake reflect in trailing wake of the boat.  I know Chris saw too.

As we approached the finish line, we heard cheers from the few scattered spectators and especially from the North Bay Rowing Club president who had been so generous in loaning the boats to us.  After we crossed the line, we sat, watched, and waited for the other boats.  Chris reminded us of the age handicap and even after the other boats finished, we were not sure if we had beaten the other boats.

Regardless of results, that quad was exhilarating to row.  Even on the paddle back, with a low stroke rate, there was huge amounts of run in the boat.  The race was a good reminder for me that there is still a lot to work as bow seat in a quad.

In the end, we did overcome the age handicap to win the race.