Rowing Tidbits

Apparently, I am not the only one to notice how non-ideal the Charles River is for rowing.  The official Head of the Charles regatta blog has noted a very calm river this weekend here.  The caption reads, "Please water be like this in 28 days."  Good luck.  If you are going to the HOTC, 26 days now to find more speed!

----------------

Great Britain's men's quad for Worlds 2011

Ever wonder why you row?  Here are some of the reasons why you row.  Ask Steve Rowbotham of the British men's quad and you will get, "I might have quit rowing if it wasn't for my stubborn streak...now all I want to do is win a medal at London."

He also said this about rowing and erging, "Rowing is not very glamorous...I have had some pretty dark days, particularly in the winter when it snows. You spend a lot of time outside in the cold and wet doing a lot of training and the rowing machine is probably one of the worst things that you will ever do. I will never get back on one."  

Bostonian Weather

Just another day in Boston...

There is a saying in Boston about the weather, “Don’t like the weather, just wait a minute and it’ll change.” What Bostonians do not tell you is that the weather usually changes for the worst.

The morning after the Petaluma River Marathon, my unfortunate husband woke up before the crack of dawn to drive me to the airport. (The Princess was undisturbed, asleep at her vacation home, i.e. Grandma and Grandpa’s.) New job and a new location to travel to—Boston.

I arrived Monday evening to a warm, humid Boston. Guys walked around Newbury Street, a popular tourist and shopping area, in T-shirts and cargo shorts and girls in skirts and spaghetti straps. By Tuesday morning, all the Walgreens and CVS’s in the city, had rolled out their umbrella racks, knowing that in miserable, drenching weather, anyone would be willing to pay $15 for a crap umbrella.

The rain and cold from Tuesday continued into Wednesday. With only light rain Wednesday morning and wearing all the layers that I had packed—a T-shirt, long sleeve, and jacket, I headed to Union Boat Club (UBC). UBC is located on the south side (downtown side) of the Charles River Basin.

The sheer number of Boston rowing clubs makes the Charles River THE place to row. Many of the well-known clubs include Cambridge Rowing Club, Community Rowing, Riverside, and UBC. Other teams include universities (e.g. Harvard, MIT, BU, Northeastern) and high schools.

MIT women's crew getting ready to launch in the rain

UBC is a small, but well-established club in Boston whose rowers primarily scull with a handful of members or ex-members being elite or national team scullers. The average club boat is, you know, just an Empacher!

We had 2 men’s singles, 1 men’s double, and 2 women’s doubles (of which I stroked one) out on the water with the coach in a white, sleek, official-looking wakeless launch. Rowing up river, the water was rough. The workout was 3x8minutes at 24, 26, and 28spm—two pieces up river and last piece coming back down.

Right about where we started our first piece, the river was calmer, but nothing in comparison to Lake Merritt on an average day. The slowest boats started first--my double started second. We were able to hold off the other women’s double who left third, but they were able to close most of the gap between us. We rowed past a whole armada of Riverside boats pass us and steered our way around Community Rowing boats and other singles who were stopped.

After the last piece, we were still a good distance from the boathouse, and the coach went in ahead of us. The wind and rain began to pick up, and the river turned choppy again. On the way back, my doubles partner spotted a fellow member sitting wet and curled up on a dock on our starboard side. The girl had taken out a Peinsit single and her boat, bouncing up and down with the waves, was parked along the dock. We pulled over to check out the situation.

As the weather had deteriorated and water filled the boat, the terrified girl had found it hard to row. She had managed to find safety on the dock and tried to wave down the coach as he drove by, but he was driving on the far side and did not see her.

In order to get back to the boathouse, we all played a game of switching seats. My double’s partner went into the single. I moved to bow seat in the double, and the girl sat in stroke seat. With the new arrangement, we tried to push off the high dock, which was definitely not designed for rowing shells. Somewhere in the push off, my double’s partner flipped the single. Luckily, though, compared to the rain and wind, the water was warm.

Unable to get back into the boat, my double’s partner pushed the single back to the dock and got back in. Then, I got out, ran over to the single, in my hurry slipped on the dock, pushed the single back out, and got back into the double. We shoved off the dock and rowed half-slide back to the boathouse.

If you are a rower, you know that the Head of the Charles (HOTC), in October, is THE head race. With two days of racing and over fifty different events, each with an invitation and lottery entry selection method, it feels quite prestigious and official to race at the HOTC.

It is days like Wednesday, however, that make me really wonder what is so great about the HOTC and the Charles River. In October, Boston weather is usually crap and the river is never calm and flat. When you mention HOTC to other rowers, you always hear stories of the year that it started to _(fill in the blank with snowing, hailing, storming, pouring)_ or the year that the Chinese eight crashed and sank (2006). Experienced rowers will tell you to bring a sponge because you might be bailing water out of the boat. And that despite your warm-up, you will probably find yourself sitting at the start line, shivering and waiting for your bow number to be called.

Perhaps the HOTC is the ultimate example of “misery loves company.” With over 8,000 other rowers suffering the same fate, it almost seems like THE cool thing to do. It just happens to often be cold, rainy, and windy.

Petaluma River Marathon 2011

Lake Merritt Rowing Club trailer at PVM;
one 2x, two 4x's, one 4+, one 1x

Sunday was the 8th annual Petaluma River Marathon (PRM) up in Marin County. A small, low-key regatta for two events—a half marathon (13.1 miles) and a full marathon (26.2 miles).  There was a good showing of 1 four, 2 quads, 1 double, and 1 single from LMRC.  A mix of LMRC rowers from the Women's team, Bay Blades, and scullers.  Even Chris rowed.  Results are posted here.

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

Everlasting Youth

Copyright http://wooshwoosh.tumblr.com/

A new place, new people, new job. New should be fun and exciting, right? If fun and exciting are euphemisms for petrifying and "outside-of-comfort zone", then that sounds about right.

The secret to everlasting youth (as if I would know) is fear. Fear is usually associated with learning something new or pushing yourself to a new level, like high rates or racing. You do not have to go skydiving to experience fear. You can find fear in the most ordinary things.

As a teenager, I feared driving. Truly, deeply feared. But I feared driving not because of the possibility of dying. I feared driving because it made me feel dumb, real dumb.

My learn-to-drive experience began the same as the experience of many other kids at school. My parents had sent me to the local driving school where the class spent three whole Saturdays watching driving videos from the 1980s and listening to the old cranky instructor gripe about life. The driving school package also included three driving with an instructor sessions in those awful cars with “Student Driver” written all over them.

These sessions were the beginning of my fear of driving. My instructor was a nice middle-aged woman who, in the long-run, was totally unhelpful. I escaped each session unscathed, but with very little confidence in my abilities. I truly believe my instructor thought her job was not to teach, but to sit, lay back, and pray really hard that “Student Driver” signs on the car were a fair enough warning to all other cars on the road.

Three of these sessions went by in a fearful, anxiety-filled blur, and I was now on my own. Correction--I was now on my own ..with my parents, that is, with my dad. My mom is not the most confident driver and  probably secretly suffers from some of the same fears of driving that I do. So driving with my mom was out of the question.

I feared driving, but it wasn’t until I had to practice driving with my dad did I passionately hate driving. Not only was I not a confident or really, to be honest, competent driver, but now throw in the typical parent-teenager tensions and we had an explosion that was barely containable inside of a 1994 Toyota Camry. My dad who had every reason to be fearful for his life only exacerbated the tensions by sitting in the passenger seat, ready for impact with his hands tightly gripping the door handle and his legs locked and jammed against the front. He would bark orders to turn here, drive slower, brake earlier, and ask, in a nagging tone, “Did you check your mirrors first?”

Although our car didn’t have any “Student driver” signs, I felt as if it would have been better with those signs rather than have all the other drivers peering into our car to get a glimpse of this person who clearly didn’t know how to drive.

The best lesson with my dad came one weekday evening when he insisted that I practice driving. We drove around town for ten or fifteen minutes with no incident. Then, somewhere I missed a turn, and we were driving on a one lane backcountry road, which was actually Dougherty Road before they developed and expanded the road. By now, it was dark and this road had no lights.

The road had several curves and with each curve, my dad, still holding his impact-ready position, would tell me to slow down. Soon, I was driving at a snail’s pace, but that didn’t bother me. What I had angst about was the number of cars following us. I could see their headlights in the rearview mirror, and I saw the car behind us flash his headlights, signaling me to pull over. He did this several times. Each time my dad told me to ignore him and to keep driving forward. I really wanted to pull out, but everytime I saw a turnout, I was either too late or too timid to act.

This drive continued on for at least a lifetime and a half, with me feeling dumber and more embarrassed every minute. Finally, I saw light, a traffic light, at the end of the tunnel. Welcome back to civilization. As the road widened and split into two lanes, all the cars behind me now passed me, and I was too timid to see whether  the drivers were glaring at me. I breathed a sigh of relief and thought I was in the clear when I realized that a police car was following me with flashing lights! Oh no! I didn’t even have a driving license and I was getting pulled over already?! I felt horrified and deeply embarrassed.

As I rolled down my window, the police officer peered in and was surprised to find a daughter and father duo in the middle of a perfectly-innocent learn-to-drive lesson. The officer explained that someone had phoned in a drunk driver, and the officer had positioned himself at the end of Dougherty Road, ready to catch this drunk driver, that is, to catch me! After a few understanding glances at my dad, the officer wished me safe driving and let me go. At the time, I was simply miserable. Who gets pulled over for driving sober and driving so poorly as to be mistaken for a drunk driver?

That was the lowest point in my fear for driving. From that point, things started to look up. I failed the driving test twice, but passed on the third try. With enough time and practice over several years, experience and confidence began to replace my fear of driving. I no longer have to ask my passengers to help me keep an eye on the road and let me know if I am clear. In fact, now I actually enjoy driving. As for parallel parking,
however, that’s a whole other story.

Thank You, Lake Merritt



Goodbye and good luck card.  Thank you, LMRC!
(There was delicious banana chocolate and walnut cake associated with the card,
but I could not wait and already ate all the cake...)

It has been over a week since my last row at Lake Merritt, and it already feels like a distant past.

In Moonwalking with Einstein, a story of remembering and the US National Memory Championships, the author describes that the more dramatic, memorable events are, the better you remember them, and thus, the slower time passes for you.  This is the opposite of the idea that "Time flies when you are having fun."  A week packed with "fun"--moving, traveling, a new job, new faces-- feels much longer than just seven days.

When you are young, life is good.  You are fresh, always improving, learning new things.  You are invincible, on-top-of-the-world.  You can handle anything and everything that life throws at you.  You are hungry--you want everything right now.  You are the epitomy of "bright-eyed and bushy tailed."  Moving?  New job?  New house?  No problem.

In a span of a day and a half, my husband and I stripped our old place bare and officially "moved in" to our new apartment, filled with boxes, bags brimming with our worldly posessessions (some of which we did not even know we had).  The next four days were spent traveling, meeting new people, learning new things for the job.  Ever felt really stupid and slow?  Ever felt like you are holding on by a nail? 

Maybe my constant memory loss, which sometimes does apply to other things besides rowing, ages me.  Maybe when people say that a new job, a new city, is a big chance, they are not kidding.  Maybe everything is easier when you know what you are doing, when you have your anchors--friends, family, rowing, swimming, goal, purpose, life--in place.  Maybe my amazing ability and huge appetite do have a limit because I may have bitten off more than I can chew.

Just like the things I have learned from swimming with Marcia, here are a few things I have learned from rowing at Lake Merritt:

1. A really good coach is worth his or her weight in gold.  Coaching takes time, energy, patience.  Masters coaching is even more difficult.  Trying to get rowers of different ages, backgrounds, abilities, goals to row together, race, win is hardly an envious responsibility.
2. I am probably not the easiest athlete to coach.  I do not trust coaches easily.  Many people coach, but few actually know what they are doing.  I have my days when I disagree with the workout, line-up, people, life in general, etc. and have a few not-so-nice things lined up in my head.  As a friend pointed out to me, "Yes, you are a HUGE 'I'," I do not like to be pushed by a coach, coxswain, or anyone or anything else.  Who are you to tell me how far I can go and where my limit is?  Luckily, at Lake Merritt, I have met some really good coaches who do know what they are doing and who have helped me go farther than I had imagined.
3. Sometimes, I am just a kid with an attitude problem.  I may appear to be an adult with a real world job, a husband, and a Princess, but some days, I am really just your typical teenager, snappy and pissed off.  Forgive me.
4. I am a small boat person.  Big boats can be fun, but what I love is small boats.  There is not always strength in numbers, which is why small clubs can do BIG things. 




LMRC Women's Team...I have no idea what they are trying to do...


5. On a team, everyone brings something to the team whether it be a fast erg score, a good atttiude, humor, competition, maturity, rhythm, experience, etc. 
6. Rowing a single requires a lot of time, dedication, and patience with yourself.  Ever want to feel stupid and slow?  Remember rowing a single for the first time?
7. Erging can be less tortuous--sometimes.  Haunted by old erg tests, I hate the erg.  If the sport was erging, not rowing (like during the winter in the Midwest), I would just quit.  An former Cal Lwt Crew coach and friend would constantly tell us, "The erg is your friend.  You love the erg.  The erg will make you stronger."  Sometimes, the erg will be your only honest friend.  Think of the erg as a tool.  Work with it, not against it.  (I still hate it though.)
8. Be grateful for what you have and the people you meet along the way.  Thank you, LMRC.




Copyright http://wooshwoosh.tumblr.com/

Last Day of Swimming

Farewell treats and card from MEMO:.

Thursday:  Last day of summer swim session and last day of swimming with Marcia.  And of course, Marcia had to end it all with a big splash of a 4x100yd swim test!

This morning, I was the antithesis of "waking up like a tiger."  I must have hit the snooze button three times.  Once I was actually physically in the pool, wet and cold, there was no going back to bed.  Trust me, I have dragged myself out of bed before, driven to 5AM rowing practice, decided that I was not going to have any of this rowing shit, drove right back home, and went to bed.  Granted, I was also pregnant at the time, and I had the hardest time getting up in the morning, even for work.

The 4x100yd swim test was not as bad as I had feared.  I managed to stay aggressive for all four pieces.  On the last piece, I knew that I lost time on the flip turns, not holding a tight streamline off the wall, but it happens when you are tired and oxygen deprived.  4x100yd:

1. 1:10 min.
2. 1:09 min.
3. 1:09 min.
4. 1:09 min.

Consistent, but not able to go 1:08 min like I did the last time, two months ago.  I had feared the swim test because I knew I was not in as great of swimming shape as I was in May.  Almost two months of training for SW Regionals will make you faster rowing, but probably slower swimming.

Why should I be anxious for a swim test?  Same reasons why I get anxious for an erg test.  One, because I know how much it will hurt.  And two, fear of personal disappointment.  Cool if you can swim fast, but Marcia could careless if you swim a 1:50 or a 1:05 as long as you are doing your best and digging deep.  Marcia will care if you fly and die, e.g. 1:30, 1:35, 1:40, 1:45.  She will say, "(insert name here), what's happening?!  You are getting slower!!"

I am sad to leave Marcia and the awesome swimmers and lane mates from MEMO:.  Here are a few things I have learned from swimming with Marcia:

1. A really good coach is with his or her weight in gold.  Most masters swim teams have a coach, but you are mostly swimming on your own.  You swim whatever workout is written on the board.  Trust me, 200yd warm-up, 200yd kick, 200yd pull, 5x500yd, etc. gets old real fast without Marcia yelling at you.
2. I should never race backstroke.  Or, if I do, race "unaffiliated" so I will not embarrass anyone else besides myself.
3. Fast swimmers come in all shapes and sizes.  But if you want to be national team/Olympic fast, you might need to start looking like Michael Phelps.  
4. It is always easier to improve when you are relatively new to a sport.  Not so easy when you begin to plateau or when you have already been at it for many years.  
5. It is always more fun when you are fast or are getting faster.  
6. You always swim better, faster, farther when there is competition around.
7. A week off, a month off.  You might be still be fit, in-shape, but you will have to re-build that edge again.  Athletes worry about peaking at the right time.  You cannot be at your peak all the time--that's called a plateau.
8. Details do matter.  Keep your eyes on the bottom of the pool, head tucked in.  Tight streamline and four dolphin kicks off the wall.  You need less air than you think.  
9. When tired, hold onto that technique and KICK!
10. Masters swimming races are divided into age groups of five years, e.g. 30-34, 35-39.  Triathlons typically have similar age groups.  Running has age groups of ten years.  Cycling tends to only have three age groups, but has different ability categories.  On the other hand, rowing has these AA-G(?) age handicaps.

Thank you, Marcia for so many things!  And, go Lane 3!!

The Princess attacking the goodies...

What's the Hurry?

It has been a hectic last few days for me in the non-rowing, normal person world, but ironically, on Sunday, I seemed to be the one left behind.

Sundays are usually an informal practice with several other scullers at the club.  This Sunday, we had SIX singles out on the water--2 women's singles (me) and 4 men's singles!  Because the finger was invaded with weeds that get caught in a boat's skeg, we stayed in the main body of the lake and did loops around.

With Southwest Regionals over and no other sprint races left, I thought we could say goodbye to high rates.

On the first loop, I concentrated on my own boat, rowing a nice, steady 22spm.  By the time, I bothered looking around, all the other boats were much farther ahead!  Hmm, maybe I was having a bad day and rowing slow or maybe everyone else was having an amazing day and rowing fast.  At the turnaround point at the Embarcadero, I cut my turn short and started out ahead of everyone else.  And again, everyone else was moving much faster and quickly caught up to me.

I am the slowest of all the scullers, but at least usually, I can hang with a few of them for awhile.  I thought maybe, in the four days that I was swimming, I somehow got slower rowing.  But when I looked more carefully at everyone else, I realized that they were all pounding away at a 26spm or 28spm.  No wonder I was so slow!

With head races and (god forbid) a marathon race next on the calendar, what's the hurry?  I had assumed that the workout was steady state, but who am I kidding?

"It ain't steady state when you have two boats next to each other." --Wolfe