August 22 - It Feels Like Home
We have been in Eton for three days now, and it’s starting to feel normal. To be surrounded by competitors speaking different languages, to jump on a shuttle
bus with sweaty, wind-breaker and spandex clad athletes from many nations, and to hear people whispering the names of legendary rowers as they pass are
all part of daily life.
It’s really incredible and, were I watching this from the outside rather than experiencing it first hand, I might even be a little awe struck. This morning,
for example, Sir Steven Redgrave, perhaps the most famous rower in the world, had a casual chat with Ryan, Jesse, and Ron as they watched the races. Yesterday,
we got a lesson in handle cleaning from the founder and CEO of Croker oars. To think that I’m walking around as a participant at a venue like this surrounded
by the caliber of athletes that are here is unbelievable. That it feels, in many ways, just like any other regatta is equally unbelievable.
During two days of water practice on Lake Dorney, the team has encountered drastically different water conditions. Yesterday we were at what I consider
the upward bound of "rowable" water. There were very strong gusts and even occasional white caps. Still, the boat seemed to be pretty well set and to move
all right through the water. I had a bit of trouble with my rigging since it was our first time back in our boat (it was shipped over in July so we've
been training in a borrowed shell), but that has been fixed and today’s practice was even better.
The small boats are less excited about the possibility of chop than the four, except for Angela who is quite an accomplished open water rower. For the singles,
especially, strong head winds are a pain since the pontoons on their riggers that provide them with increased safety also bounce a lot on rough water.
Ron describes it as feeling like he is catching a crab on every stroke.
Today’s water was much better, and there were more boats around. China, Great Britain, and Brazil were all nearby during our practice session. I love listening
to the coxswains all speaking with the same sense of urgency, albeit in different languages. Being out there alongside the boats we'll be racing in a few
days is like getting a shot of adrenaline for me. Now, more than ever, I want to get to that starting line.
Another fun element of today’s work was classification. In essence, we all had to prove that the level of disability that we've been claiming is a truthful
depiction of our particular conditions. For Aerial and I, it means covering up one eye at a time and trying to see an eye chart, motion, and light. For
the amputees and small boaters, the testing is more complex. Jesse described it as a lot of strength and range of motion testing. I’m glad that my classification
was not such an involved process. Just in case anyone was worried, you can relax now: apparently I am still blind and eligible to row Friday.
What blind rowers escape in the classification procedure in terms of inconvenience, we make up for on the water. To keep things absolutely fair, visually-impaired
athletes have to wear blindfolds that block all light. Mine are made of jet ski goggles covered in black duct tape. Apparently they make me look like some
kind of space invader, and they've drawn comments from people all the way up to USRowing Executive Director, Glenn Merry. Maybe he’ll go back to Nike and
ask them to design something for me that is a little more elegant. I won't keep my fingers crossed.
Right now I am ending my evening as I have the first two nights here: catching up with emails and writing in the small room reserved for rowers to get cheap
internet access at the hotel. It's about 10:00 pm our time, 5:00 pm home time, which means it is high time for me to hit the sack. Until next time…
bus with sweaty, wind-breaker and spandex clad athletes from many nations, and to hear people whispering the names of legendary rowers as they pass are
all part of daily life.
It’s really incredible and, were I watching this from the outside rather than experiencing it first hand, I might even be a little awe struck. This morning,
for example, Sir Steven Redgrave, perhaps the most famous rower in the world, had a casual chat with Ryan, Jesse, and Ron as they watched the races. Yesterday,
we got a lesson in handle cleaning from the founder and CEO of Croker oars. To think that I’m walking around as a participant at a venue like this surrounded
by the caliber of athletes that are here is unbelievable. That it feels, in many ways, just like any other regatta is equally unbelievable.
During two days of water practice on Lake Dorney, the team has encountered drastically different water conditions. Yesterday we were at what I consider
the upward bound of "rowable" water. There were very strong gusts and even occasional white caps. Still, the boat seemed to be pretty well set and to move
all right through the water. I had a bit of trouble with my rigging since it was our first time back in our boat (it was shipped over in July so we've
been training in a borrowed shell), but that has been fixed and today’s practice was even better.
The small boats are less excited about the possibility of chop than the four, except for Angela who is quite an accomplished open water rower. For the singles,
especially, strong head winds are a pain since the pontoons on their riggers that provide them with increased safety also bounce a lot on rough water.
Ron describes it as feeling like he is catching a crab on every stroke.
Today’s water was much better, and there were more boats around. China, Great Britain, and Brazil were all nearby during our practice session. I love listening
to the coxswains all speaking with the same sense of urgency, albeit in different languages. Being out there alongside the boats we'll be racing in a few
days is like getting a shot of adrenaline for me. Now, more than ever, I want to get to that starting line.
Another fun element of today’s work was classification. In essence, we all had to prove that the level of disability that we've been claiming is a truthful
depiction of our particular conditions. For Aerial and I, it means covering up one eye at a time and trying to see an eye chart, motion, and light. For
the amputees and small boaters, the testing is more complex. Jesse described it as a lot of strength and range of motion testing. I’m glad that my classification
was not such an involved process. Just in case anyone was worried, you can relax now: apparently I am still blind and eligible to row Friday.
What blind rowers escape in the classification procedure in terms of inconvenience, we make up for on the water. To keep things absolutely fair, visually-impaired
athletes have to wear blindfolds that block all light. Mine are made of jet ski goggles covered in black duct tape. Apparently they make me look like some
kind of space invader, and they've drawn comments from people all the way up to USRowing Executive Director, Glenn Merry. Maybe he’ll go back to Nike and
ask them to design something for me that is a little more elegant. I won't keep my fingers crossed.
Right now I am ending my evening as I have the first two nights here: catching up with emails and writing in the small room reserved for rowers to get cheap
internet access at the hotel. It's about 10:00 pm our time, 5:00 pm home time, which means it is high time for me to hit the sack. Until next time…
posted by Jamie at 1:19 PM
<< Home