August 20, 2006 - Fatigue, Thy Name is Jet Lag

What’s more fun than doing law school assignments on your lap top computer during the middle of the night while cruising 30,000 feet above the Atlantic Ocean? In short, just about anything.
The past 30 hours have been quite the exercise in sleep deprivation. None of us, it seems, are good airplane sleepers. Even if I had been, I had enough work to do to keep me occupied throughout our flight from Washington, D.C. to London. When we got here, then, we were all in pretty haggard shape. It was actually pretty funny.
Ryan, our coxswain, seems to have been the hardest hit. He’s only 17 and he’s never traveled abroad before and faced the torture that is resetting one’s biological clock. I think he was almost delirious when we arrived. We all felt a little bad for him, but our compassion was drowned out by our laughter at watching him trying to stay conscious throughout the day.
After dropping our bags off at the hotel, we caught a bus over to the race site. I had the fortunate experience of sitting behind some U.S. women’s team members. I took the opportunity to relate to them the story of my missing trou and to hypothesize about possible scenarios for its disappearance. They were convinced that I was making the whole thing up; I was convinced that they were covering for someone. We’ll be on the look out during their practices for my AWOL spandies, that’s for sure.
We didn’t row today, but we got our shell down off the racks and rigged it up. It’s now got the U.S.A. lettering on it, which is very cool. Our oars are being painted, as well, to match the typical U.S. red, white, and blue.
We’re finding out that the conditions here change frequently and without warning. Yesterday there was a cross head wind, today there was a stiff cross tail. I talked to some Australian rowers and an American coxswain who’ve been around for a little while and they said it’s very difficult to anticipate how the course will look on any given day. Thus, it’s not uncommon for the starters to shift lanes close to race time in order to keep the fastest boats in the best water. Some lanes here, unfortunately, can significantly disadvantage a boat depending on the conditions. I am not really worried about this for the four and the double, but Ron and I agree that it could pose serious problems for the singles, especially given the fixed seat which he said often works like a mini sail.
It wasn’t until the ride home from the course that the time change really hit me. It was about 2:00 PM Eton time, which is 9:00 AM my time back home. It’s not surprising then that I don’t remember much of the shuttle ride back to the hotel. I just recall Jesse grabbing my arm and holding on to me so that I wouldn’t slip off the edge of the seat on one turn and then me bracing myself and pushing against him so that he wouldn’t slide out on the next. It was kind of impromptu human seat belt duty.
The afternoon brought a much appreciated nap, some TV, and a calm dinner. Tomorrow we’ll get our first time out on the water. I’m looking forward to it. My nerves really go crazy on land, but they tend to dissipate once we push off the docks. I just want to get down to the business that we came here to do. I’ve had enough traveling and talking; it’s time to row.

We're on TV! (Sort of)

If you want to watch every thrilling minute of the races in Eton, check out

www.worldrowing.com

I'm told that there are links on the site to live web feeds including commentary. They'll probably even archive the coverage so that you don't have to get up at an unholy hour to see us race--although that would be fun and I expect all true rowers to do it since we're used to getting up at unholy hours anyway.

August 18 - 2006 - On the Road Again

Well, that pivotal moment I’ve been waiting for, the one where I realize that this is actually happening, has finally arrived. I could feel it coming on—my nerves have been acting up and my appetite has been decreasing—but now it’s full on. Wow.
After a great practice this morning, tonight we took our second to last row in the United States in front of a crowd of supporters and then attended a send-off party in St. Joe’s boat house where we’ve been training all week. It was really nice to see some of those who have made this program possible. It also drives home the point that the hopes and dreams of more than just the 9 of us on the team rest on the strength of our oars. “No pressure,” they say… Yeah right.
The plan for the morning is to take a light row and then to get to the airport to battle the new security requirements. With several wheelchairs and prosthetics to get onto the plane, it will be a huge ordeal and we don’t want to risk missing our departure and getting held up here in Philly.
Just to add a little adventure, I think I tweaked my shoulder a bit during this morning’s practice. I’ve been trying to blend better into the style of this particular boat by moving away from the three part legs-back-arms stroke and using one where I finish with my legs and hands at the same time. I think it’s just stressing out the small support muscles that aren’t used to handling the different load. As I write, I’m sitting with an ice pack tucked behind my back and a good dose of Advil flowing through my veins. I’m positive that will be enough to get me through.
It’s been a good week in Philadelphia and we’re heading out feeling good. One more smooth, swing-filled row tomorrow and I think we’ll cruise into England feeling strong and prepared. It’s probably impossible to feel absolutely ready for these kinds of events. It seems like there is always one more thing you’d like to work on cleaning up before the big day. We’ve done all we can, though, and, frankly, we’ve done a lot. Over the course of this summer, we’ve become a true crew. We care about each other, we’re committed and focused to our country and to our boat, and I couldn’t ask for anything more.

August 17, 2006 - Confidence, Tiff! Confidence!

“The Amateurs” is undoubtedly one of the best and most widely-read rowing books of all time. As the author, David Halberstam, chronicles the quest of four scullers on their quest to represent the United States in the Olympic games, he goes into great detail about their personalities, their backgrounds, and the other traits and life experiences that carved them into elite level rowers.

One of the stories Halberstam tells is of Tiff Wood: the tough, outspoken favorite to win the men’s single. In college, though, rowing with Harvard’s “rude and smooth” crew, Tiff was not always sure of himself. In one race, in particular, his boat was given orders to take an early lead and hold it. The directions were followed, but, in his worry that they might be caught, Tiff started screaming for the stroke to take the rating up and pull away from the other boat. All the while, Tiff’s coach was riding alongside the race course on a bike yelling simply, “Confidence Tiff! Confidence!”

Out of the whole book, that’s the one quote I remember, and it’s the last thing that goes through my mind before every race. This morning we had a mock heat against a double of former international national team heavyweight men. They took us off the start—which I expected—but they managed to hold the lead and win by about a seat and a half, which I did not expect.

It was frustrating, because we rowed well. Personally, this was the first one kilometer piece on the water during which my legs felt the same level of pain that they do on the erg. I really thought we’d be faster.

So here is the realization: all the motivational talk, goal-setting, and eloquent writing are just an exercise in semantic gymnastics if you can’t anchor your blade in the water and pry your boat past it faster than your competition. A lesson hard-learned, I will not forget it during the next 9 days or probably during my life time.

I might sound a little morose; I’m not. A heavyweight men’s pair without coxswain, especially one composed of elite level rowers, should be able to beat a mixed four with coxswain over 1,000 meters. There was much to be happy about, too. Our start was very nice, our rating came up easily and our settle felt awesome. The rate didn’t creep down at all during the piece. We took water during our mid-race move, and we felt really long and relaxed, so much so that our coach was surprised to see how high the stroke rating actually was. Most importantly, we absolutely did not lose our cool and never, never broke. There was no let up whatsoever, and that is very satisfying to me.

I just hate losing, even in practices. I’m not shaken, not worried, not upset (anymore). I just got a little taste of the bitterness that I train so hard to avoid. I don’t think anyone would like me to be any different, though. A stroke should hate, maybe even fear, losing more than anything else in the world. For me, there is no thought of second place when I’m at the starting line or during a race. There is only driving the boat, looking for a way to win, holding out hope until the finish is past. As I told my dad before selection camp, I have no contingencies for failure.

My focus is higher than it has ever been. The trust I have in my team mates is unflappable. Though I know that I’m far from being a perfect rower, when I sit ready at the catch waiting for our first race, I will believe that I’m unstoppable, unshakeable, unbreakable, and invincible. That’s the only way I know to approach a race. Confidence, Jamie! Confidence!

August 16, 2006 - All in the Family

One of the greatest parts about being at the full team training camp is having the opportunity to spend more time with the other adaptive team members who are not on my boat. Sometimes I can get a little myopic when it comes to focusing on just my training and just the work of my four, but it’s good to be here and to share with other athletes.
A little explaining is probably useful at this point. There will actually be four adaptive events at the Fisa World Championships. I am part of what is called the “LTA four+.” This is the boat for athletes who have full leg, trunk, and arm ability. In our case, we have two blind rowers and two amputee rowers. By rule, only two blind rowers are allowed on any crew and there must be at least two female rowers on the boat. I’m told the latter is a political move to force some less-progressive nations to include women in sport. It might change in future years, but not until after the 2008 Paralympics.
The other three events are all in sculls. There is the TA (trunk and arm) double and the arms-only men’s and women’s singles. All three events used fixed seat shells.
The fixed seat rowers on our team are all very capable athletes, and fun people, too. The double, Scott and Angela, have won gold at worlds three times. Both are fairly relaxed off the water, but also extremely focused athletes. Scott, in particular, has a great whit and a semi-sarcastic sense of humor that I find especially amusing. He’s the kind of person who can both dish out and take a heavy dose of good-natured kidding, so I find myself going back and forth with him quite often. He owns an ’89 Porsche, a hybrid Toyota Prius, and an old-school AMC jeep; all of which are red. He tells me that the Prius balances out the terrible gas mileage and environmental damage of the other two vehicles.
The best descriptor I can think of for Angela is “tough.” Not only does she race in the double, but she also competes as a world class surfer—her corn-rowed hair stands as testament to her boarder spirit—and she’s currently training to do a trans-Atlantic row with a few other adaptive rowers. She told me all about the adventure when we chatted during selection camp. Sixty days of rowing, two hours on, two hours off. I can’t even imagine. It is not surprising that she is a former U.S. Marine.
Our singles rowers remain the most mysterious to me, mostly because I don’t get to row with them and because they aren’t around me too much. Ron, the male rep, is finishing his training out West because of a job switch and Patty, the female representative, is staying in a hotel outside the city with Angela.
I have not met anyone who doesn’t absolutely love and respect Ron. He is Mr. Cool in the world of adaptive rowing. An elite level rower before he was injured and lost the use of his legs and back, he hasn’t lost anything on the water. It’s really impressive to see him cranking out 2:00 splits with just his arms on the erg. It’s also insane to talk to him about his race strategy, which includes a start whose rating can jump into the 60 and 70 stroke-per-minute range. He deserves to win; I really hope that this is his year.
Patty is relatively new to the sport of rowing, but not new to adaptive athletics. She started out as a wheelchair basketball and tennis player. Fortunately, she saw the light and came over to the far superior pursuit of rowing. Like I said, I haven’t gotten to spend too much time with her, yet, but I know that will change in the coming days as we travel abroad.
As a blind person, I really don’t like it when people tell me that they are “amazed” or “inspired” by me when I’m just doing things that are normal to me and to other regular people. I’m learning to be a little more compassionate towards the awe-struck, though, as I watch our fixed seat rowers. It’s proof that, even for one who is himself adaptive, we all find it difficult to comprehend how others can thrive without abilities that we take for granted. Because I respect them, though, I do not see the scullers or any of my other team mates as “special” for any reason other than their elite rowing ability. We all expect world championship quality rowing from each other, none of us is here for fun, and no one will be satisfied with just “participating” in Eton. Legs, eyes, arms, and backs can’t affect heart, and heart is what every champion lives on.

August 16, 2006 - Moving On Up

August 16, 2006- Moving on Up

Well friends, family, and other such rowing-news starved people who are bored enough to read my blog, I want to let you know that I’m starting a second web log about my rowing and the upcoming world championships. Actually, it’s already started. RowingNews.com asked me to write about my experiences, so you can now find me at

http://www.rowingnews.com

I believe that the blog section is pretty clearly marked. There are links to recent posts, including mine, at the bottom of the front page. Check it out; it will even have pictures.

Also, Aerial is keeping a blog, as is her tradition, that is very good and up-to-date. The link to hers is

http://home.earthlink.net/~gdbdeanne/worlds2003

Enjoy the reading. I'll post more soon…

August 13, 2006 - Final Camp has Begun

Jesse and I arrived in Philadelphia Friday night courtesy of the Ryan Pawling shuttle service. We spent the evening with the rest of our boat at the apartment where Aerial is staying. She and Jen prepared some awesome pasta, and we used the evening to rest up for the week ahead. I think the mood was casual, but focused. The sense of anticipation around the table was almost palpable.
The first day of rowing could not have gone better. We did a long steady state piece in the morning and technical work at night. Everyone felt that the boat was coming together well, and our excitement has grown after every work out we’ve had so far.
After our morning session Saturday, we had the long-awaited delivery of our US National Team gear packages. It was really exciting, especially for Ryan and I who are on the national team for the first time. As I pulled on my team USA uni, it kind of hit home that in just over a week I’d be representing my country. It’s so easy to let things seem imaginary and, in some ways, it is good to live in the moment and not look ahead too much. It was truly a special moment for me, though, when I first looked at my gear and took a moment to appreciate that it is all real and I’m really a part of this incredible program.
Sunday we had what, I think, was our best row yet. We did a pyramid of 5 pieces—2k, 1k, 500 meters, 1k, 2k—and, for maybe the first time, we really started to feel that allusive sensation rowers know simply as “swing.” The catches were all going in at the same time, the application of power was very even across the boat, and the stroke rating seemed to shoot up effortlessly. After practice, the mood on the dock was one of total elation. For those who have gone to previous worlds and finished out of medal contention, vindication is so near they can almost taste it. For the rest of us, the possibility of exploding onto the scene and grabbing a medal is becoming more real than ever.
Our time here has not been without adventure. Sunday, Jen’s car broke down and we left the boat house after our evening practice to find that her muffler was practically lying on the ground. Thus began a very, very long evening that included a pizza run, a group crossword adventure, and many hours of storytelling and bonding. As we lie there on the asphalt to stay warm, laughing at almost everything because we were so tired, it struck me that we’re really a team now: really the deep kind of friends who sincerely love one another and who will dig deeper for each other than we would for ourselves. More than anything we’ve done on the water, that realization makes me feel ready for Eton.

August 10, 2006 - A Sad Loss

Sometimes athletes develop what can only be described as an irrational and unnatural affinity for their equipment. I know that there are definitely some pieces of my own gear that hold a special place in my heart: my water bottle, my black and gold CoolMax shirt, and my Wake Forest Boathouse jacket, for example. To my great surprise and horror, another item from my highly prized collection, my favorite pair of rowing shorts, mysteriously disappeared from my locker today.
Please understand, these are not just any shorts. They are the first pair of spandex I ever purchased. They are “Hind” (don’t laugh) brand, which is nearly impossible to find. I wore them during my first season of racing and, throughout my entire collegiate career, they were the only trou that I ever owned.
Why anyone would want to “borrow” my shorts which have been worked out in three times since their last washing is beyond me. I could understand taking my nice-looking Under Armor shirt or Jesse’s towel, both of which were also hanging in the locker, but to steal my gross shorts is puzzling more than it is unconscionable. In any case, I didn’t appreciate having to row in my boxer briefs, even though they probably are no more revealing than the spandex were.
Perhaps the trou will reappear in my locker tomorrow, washed, folded, and smelling fresh. More likely, though, is that the vanishing will remain a mystery. Jesse has sworn that he will immediately attack anyone he sees wearing my beloved bottoms and reclaim them. His support is invaluable. I feel sorry for the guilty party if ever I find him/her. There are a few things in life I simply cannot stand for, and taking a man’s luckiest pair of spandex shorts is near the top of the list.

August 10, 2006 - In the News

“WSJ News Alert: UK Officials Disrupt Terror Plot”

It was the title of an e-mail alert that I received in my Inbox that caught my attention in a way that no such previous message ever had. By now, I’m sure that everyone has heard the news. Apparently 24 men of Pakistani origin were arrested in Britain and an unspecified number were captured in Pakistan in relation to a plot to simultaneously take down as many as 10 planes flying between the United States and the United Kingdom. One of the routes and airlines targeted—United from London’s Heathrow to Washington, D.C.—is the one that my team mates and I are scheduled to take on August 28. Though our plans remain unchanged, I know that the experience promises to be dramatically different than it would have been had the World Championships been held last month. Pray for us… “Faith… Courage.
Once again, I’m reminded that the world continues to turn, oblivious to the labor of its inhabitants, even including rowers. Still, fears and unanswered questions in tow, Jesse and I took to the water this afternoon because there remains a task to be accomplished, a goal to be pursued.
This, I think, is why I love the water. As a blind person, I am accustomed to dealing with a large amount of uncertainty every day. My surroundings, the appearance of friends and family, pictures on Television… these are all things that have a somewhat hazy depiction in my mind. In a boat, though, there is complete self-awareness, complete understanding of space and position. On the water, I exist in only about 6 feet of horizontal space. The pin, the oar lock, the stretchers, and the seat are always the same. They are familiar and, in that familiarity, I find a sense of peace.
Our work out today mirrored my mood. We started out by burning off nervous energy by doing a few race pace 2k’s, even though the race we’ll be running is only 1,000 meters long. Both felt pretty good and I’m starting to hope that someday they add a pairs event to the Paralympics.
After the hard pieces, we rowed a very relaxed steady state back to the boat house. We didn’t talk very much, contenting ourselves to listen to the click of the oar handles and the sound of the blades holding against the water as we leveraged the boat across the lake. Really, it was a calming moment: a piece of serenity after a long day of uneasiness.
In other news, tomorrow we report to Philadelphia to row with the whole team. I’m very ready for it, and so is everyone else from what I can tell. We like each other, and we’re excited to get faster and to grow as a crew.
Also, the entries for our race were published this week, adding to my nerves but also giving me a moment of realization. I cannot describe how proud I felt when I saw my named posted under “USA.” I remember being taken back when I lined up for my first races in college against big name schools like Texas, North Carolina, Georgia Tech, etc. I can’t imagine what it will feel like to hear them poll “Great Britain, lane 1, China, lane 2, USA, lane 3,” etc. Wow… I just wish we could get it on tomorrow instead of waiting two more weeks.

August 9 - Princeton

Ryan, my coxswain, drove me down to Princeton yesterday. We had a good lunch with Jesse and then I spent the afternoon reading “Law School Without Fear.” It’s a useful book for kids like me who haven’t watched enough Law and Order to know all the ins and outs of the legal system, yet.
Jesse and I got on the water in the evening and had a so-so row. It was weird being back in a boat, especially a small one. Neither of us was very concerned, though. It just takes one row for the muscles to remember everything.
After practice we went out to Red Lobster and I ate about 3 pounds of pasta. It was incredible. Hunger is a state of being, at this point, because I can’t seem to throw enough food at my body to satisfy my perpetually accelerating metabolism. So much for gaining weight; I’m just trying not to loose what I’ve got. I should buy stock in Detour protein bars and Endurox energy drink for the amounts I’m consuming on a daily basis.
It’s about 1:30 PM right now and Jesse and I had an incredible practice this morning. We worked on starts—there is a special sequence of strokes you use to get the boat from a dead stop to top speed really quickly—and sprints. We felt very strong and very balanced. The problems I was fighting at our last practice camp seem to be getting much better. We were both pretty pumped when we got back to the docks. If we put together a few more practices like this, we’re going to go into our final full-team practice camp flying high.
It seems like all we talk about is winning, now. It’s a good thing to know that Jesse is as hungry for victory as I am. We’re so laid back off the water that sometimes people might think we have an almost casual approach to our rowing, but there couldn’t be anything further from the truth. We want to win and, really, we’re planning on it. I’m not arrogant about thinking it will be easy or anything foolish like that, but I’m also not going to go into this competition believing that a gold medal is beyond my grasp. Gold is the goal, let there be no doubt about it.

August 7, 2006 - On the Road Again (for the last time)

It has been a long weekend. Friday my mom and I spent the day packing all my worldly possessions into the back of our mini van. Saturday, she and my Dad and I drove down to Wake and set up my room. We finished off the process Sunday morning, they took off early that afternoon, and then I re-packed a suitcase for the upcoming 3 weeks. Monday morning I met with a few people at the business school, the law school, and the Learning Assistance Center where I get my print textbooks translated into electronic formats, and then my Resident Advisor Laura drove me to Raleigh to catch a plane to Philadelphia, where I am now. It was a pretty long and miserable flight that was delayed in both departing and landing by weather, but at least I had some funny people in the seats with me who shared advice on everything from black jack to relationships. I think the key to both is being patient and not forcing things.
Right now I am at the Tarbox home, once again. I’m a little worried that I might wear out my welcome here. Fortunately this is the last night that I’ll need to stay with them. Last time I was here I sent flowers. I’ll have to think of something else to do after Worlds just to say “thank you” one more time.
The next 3 weeks are going to be incredible and incredibly busy. I will travel to Princeton tomorrow to row with Jesse for the week. Friday we’ll return to Philadelphia and train there for about 8 days, and on the 19th we’ll fly out to Eton where we’ll be racing. I will return home on August 28 and attend classes on August 29th. I’ve got tons of work to do already to make up for the days that I’ll be missing. Thankfully there will be some down time between practices.
I think this would be my dream life, if I could choose one. I love rowing that much. It’s fun to be on the road again, because I feel like I can really focus just on the race and my crew. Though I’ll be reading a lot of law texts and doing some writing assignments, they shouldn’t be too distracting. Hopefully I’ll get everything done before flying out to England, anyway, so that I’ll be able to really soak up that experience.
I’ve had many well-wishes and lots of encouragement from friends and family. Thanks to all of you for that. We’ll do our dead-level best to bring home some coin, preferably of the gold variety.
One last thing. I’ve put the “Faith” and “Courage” bracelets back on my right wrist. If you’ll recall, Jocelyn gave them to me on my first day of selection camp. I took them off when I returned home after that, but it seems appropriate to be wearing them again. Faith… Courage… There couldn’t be any better two words to describe what I need right now.

August 2, 2006 - Getting Closer

I cannot believe that it is already August! I’m not ready for it to be August. I have barely more than 3 weeks until I compete in the biggest race of my life, and all I want right now is more time to get ready.
Sunday night I did my first time trial on the rowing machine since hurting my ankle. I tied my PR, exactly. I’d hoped to be much faster at this point, but a few weeks of pool work outs rather than erg work outs made gaining speed nearly impossible. I’m proud of the test, though, because it was very painful and I did not relent. The heat index outside was about 100 degrees, so it was a very trying task. I don’t recall my legs hurting as badly as they did after that piece in recent memory. It’s a good pain, if there can be such a thing.
Rehab goes very well. My trainers, Erin and Liz, have me doing some very challenging exercises. Erin said the improvement in my balance is remarkable. I can feel the change. My ankle is still sore a lot of the time, but there’s no more swelling and I feel like I’m 100% on the erg and on the water. Only two more days of physical therapy left to go. In some strange way, I think I’ll miss it. Luckily I’ll have a few other things coming up in the next few weeks to occupy my time and mind.
Apparently I’m too small. I’ve actually lost a little weight. Though it is really too late for me to put on any good pounds before England at this point, I’m still trying to keep calories flowing into my body at a ridiculous rate in order to keep myself from dropping any further. Even if I pick up a little fat, it can’t do anything but help me in such a short, explosive race where having power and momentum is key.
Saturday I’ll return to Wake to set up my room for the year and Monday I’ll fly back up to Philadelphia for another week with Jesse over at Princeton before reporting to our final camp on August 11. I am starting to get a bit nervous, but I’m also increasing the level of my focus. Perhaps reality is just now finally setting in or perhaps the acceleration in the action and training is just hyping me up. Regardless, Jesse, Jen, Aerial, Ryan, and Karen now occupy more of my thoughts than ever, and there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t visualize at least part of our races.
I really want to win. That might seem like a silly thing to say, everyone desires to be victorious, of course, but I think there’s a difference between wanting it on an intellectual level and deciding you want it so bad that you’re willing to make the sacrifices when the time comes to get it. There is no reason that we shouldn’t be in contention for gold, and so gold is what I want. If it takes digging deeper than I’ve ever dug, fighting harder than I’ve ever fought, and pushing myself closer to the precipice of destruction than I’ve ever dared in previous races, so be it. This is our chance to be champions, and not just any champions: we’re pushing for a world title. That’s awesome! My heart is beating faster just thinking about it. Yes, I’d like more time to train and get stronger, but I’m very ready. U-S-A!

July 29 - Making Up for Lost Time

I have been a bad, bad blogger, and I’m sorry. Generally one would think that a journal would only go silent when there is nothing going on, but for me it is the opposite. The past 2 weeks have been extraordinarily busy, so let me get you up to date.

Quite simply, Princeton was awe inspiring. I just felt faster being there surrounded by more than 100 years of rowing history as well as the current national team. All of them, including the women, are bigger than me. It’s a bit intimidating.
Princeton’s boat house is gorgeous. There really is no comparison between their resources and those I am used to at Wake Forest. It makes me a little jealous, but also hopeful that someday I will be able to contribute to the Demon Deacons having similar facilities.
Jesse and I definitely got some good work done in the pair. It was much easier than I thought, to be honest. I expected that, as a smaller boat, the 2-person shell would be more tippy and harder to set than the boats I’m used to rowing, but I think we handled it nicely. Being in such a small craft really emphasizes the finer aspects of technique, and I felt like we grew through the experience immensely. It was also fun just to get to bond with Jesse and to get a glimpse into his world. We’re already planning for me to go up again on the 7th to do a few more pair rows before reporting to our final team camp on the 11th.
Our team practices in Philadelphia were also good, though I did get a little frustrated at points. Basically, I thought I knew how to row before I went to camp. I thought wrong. After switching to the starboard side of the boat from a life-long career as a port, I feel like I’ve become proficient. Unfortunately, there is a huge difference between proficiency and perfection, and perfection is the goal.
I hate it when I feel like my mental state affects my rowing, but I was certainly in that predicament for our last two rows because I was personally so unhappy with my rowing. I did not ever really get upset with the rest of the boat, but I just couldn’t force my hands and legs to do exactly what I wanted and needed them to do. Whenever I do not have complete control over my body and my technique, I get annoyed with myself.
Fortunately, I think the worst is behind me and the rest of the boat. We’re coming together beautifully as people off the water, which will bond us into a very mentally stable unit on the water. Crews that live and die as one usually win. If we can continue to lose our individual selves in the overall personality of the boat, we will be a force in England.