August 26, 2006
Less than four minutes of rowing left in my first FISA World Championships experience, and nothing has been decided. It’s a great feeling, too, because I know we have just as good a chance as anyone to walk away with the gold.
The LTA four repechage heats today could not have worked out better for the U.S.A. In our race, we had a four seat lead by about 400 meters in and, when it became clear that Italy was willing to expend any amount of energy necessary to win the heat, we dropped our rating, stretched out, and watched them row by at 36 strokes per minute while we rowed a calm, easy 28 all the way to the finish line. Since the next two boats were too far behind to challenge, we did not have to take a mid-piece move or sprint the finish.
In the other heat, things turned out to be a little tighter. Australia, Canada, and Portugal were all in contention in the last quarter of the race, so all went into full out sprints with Australia just nipping out Canada for the first position.
In summary, then, all the boats that advanced out of the repechage round, except the U.S.A., rowed a full-out, 100% race piece. I am sure they will feel the effects tomorrow, especially since they have less than 24 hours to recover. By remaining calm and racing strategically, we totally saved our legs and lungs for the finals.
So now there is only one race that remains, and it is the only one that counts. We have had two good races in a row, but it is this third effort that will be remembered. That’s the painful irony of rowing: a crew works tirelessly for weeks, months, and even years just to get one shot at a small piece of history. If they succeed, there is complete satisfaction, complete happiness. If they fail, there is complete anonymity. We do not want to be forgotten.
I am ready to stroke this race. My legs, my arms, and my lungs feel good. More importantly, the faith I have in my boat could not be higher. As we cross the 500 meter buoy and get into the most painful and important part of the race, I know that Jesse, Jen, Aerial, and Ryan will still be giving me 100%. None of them will fold, none will break, none will panicky. I will not try to carry the boat alone, I don’t have to. That feeling, alone, makes me very confident.
Each morning before leaving the hotel, I have dropped to my knees and prayed for God to give me strength, to keep me calm, to be with each of my team mates, and to help us to perform to the peak of our abilities. Faith that He has heard me gives me great strength. Faith in my crew gives me great confidence. Knowledge of what is at stake gives me courage. So it is, then, that it all comes back to those two little words that began my national team experience: “Faith” and “Courage.” They have carried us to the A finals of the world championships. They will carry us to the finish line, as well.
The LTA four repechage heats today could not have worked out better for the U.S.A. In our race, we had a four seat lead by about 400 meters in and, when it became clear that Italy was willing to expend any amount of energy necessary to win the heat, we dropped our rating, stretched out, and watched them row by at 36 strokes per minute while we rowed a calm, easy 28 all the way to the finish line. Since the next two boats were too far behind to challenge, we did not have to take a mid-piece move or sprint the finish.
In the other heat, things turned out to be a little tighter. Australia, Canada, and Portugal were all in contention in the last quarter of the race, so all went into full out sprints with Australia just nipping out Canada for the first position.
In summary, then, all the boats that advanced out of the repechage round, except the U.S.A., rowed a full-out, 100% race piece. I am sure they will feel the effects tomorrow, especially since they have less than 24 hours to recover. By remaining calm and racing strategically, we totally saved our legs and lungs for the finals.
So now there is only one race that remains, and it is the only one that counts. We have had two good races in a row, but it is this third effort that will be remembered. That’s the painful irony of rowing: a crew works tirelessly for weeks, months, and even years just to get one shot at a small piece of history. If they succeed, there is complete satisfaction, complete happiness. If they fail, there is complete anonymity. We do not want to be forgotten.
I am ready to stroke this race. My legs, my arms, and my lungs feel good. More importantly, the faith I have in my boat could not be higher. As we cross the 500 meter buoy and get into the most painful and important part of the race, I know that Jesse, Jen, Aerial, and Ryan will still be giving me 100%. None of them will fold, none will break, none will panicky. I will not try to carry the boat alone, I don’t have to. That feeling, alone, makes me very confident.
Each morning before leaving the hotel, I have dropped to my knees and prayed for God to give me strength, to keep me calm, to be with each of my team mates, and to help us to perform to the peak of our abilities. Faith that He has heard me gives me great strength. Faith in my crew gives me great confidence. Knowledge of what is at stake gives me courage. So it is, then, that it all comes back to those two little words that began my national team experience: “Faith” and “Courage.” They have carried us to the A finals of the world championships. They will carry us to the finish line, as well.
posted by Jamie at 12:18 PM
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