No one reads this but whatever...
I kind of realized that I've never effectively explained the wonder of crew to people who have never rowed. I didn't even really think about it until recently, when I joined a gym. About a week ago a guy sat down on the erg next to me and did his time and after I had finished mine he asked "where do you row?" He was suprised when I told him I haven't rowed in about four years, and we talked a bit. He'd been on the men's varsity at Notre Dame a while back when crew was just getting started, and we had the same goal of getting back into shape, so it was nice to have a "buddy" to share progress with and such.
But before that I hadn't really thought about why rowing has so much attraction and why we push our bodies to our limits. No one else understands it and I've never really eloquently explained it, so I'll attempt to do it now, I guess. Since tomorrow's Turkey Day and I have no homework I need to do and as such am bored. And I'm practicing at actually showing emotions in writing since I've always held myself back from that.
"This story begins, as everything does, at the beginning. You get in the boat, sit down, maneuver around the other crews launching and head up to the head of the race at a light paddle. You get to the head of the race preferably without incident or collisions with anything (I once got slapped in the face with an oar when a men's novii boat almost ran into us), grab onto a rope and get ready. The buzzer, gun, whatever goes off and you start to pull.
The first few meters are just focusing on getting the start right and getting into a rythm and balance with your boat. Once you settle into a rythm, you then focus on pulling. You start to pull harder and harder, and all you think about is your body. A rower is a picture of efficiency, never a wasted movement, never a sacrificed breath. Your whole body is connected, everything from the toes you use to stabilize the catch of your stroke, to the tips of your fingers that grip the oar featherlight as you pull through the water, to the lips that begin to tingle when you've hit your limit. Halfway through your whole body begins to ache, your eyes start to water, your saliva gets thick, and you pull harder. Two-thirds through and you have the beginnings of tunnel vision, and you begin to hear the cheers from the crowd carrying over the water and you pull harder. 500 meters left and your whole body burns, your muscles ache, all you can see is shapes and you sink into your mind to find the will left to pull harder. You pull harder with every stroke, finally building up to the last 100 meters, where you can't go anymore, all you hear is your breath and the blood pounding in your ears, your muscles are screaming for you to stop, your hands are blistered and raw, your head is pounding, your throat is dry, your saliva is thick and you have to look in yourself and find the strength to pull as hard as you possibly can until you cross that finish line, and then everything seems clear. In that moment you're not worried about who won, where you placed, what your time was. In that moment you feel pure, almost naked, like you've gone to hell and come out the other side, clean and free, purged through the blood and sweat and pain that you left on the water. You've come out the other side stronger and better than you were, because you found the will and strength to push your body and your mind past their limits, and you feel invincible, that you've crushed those limits that have been placed on you and broken free."
That's just me, but maybe it will help explain why rowers row.
But before that I hadn't really thought about why rowing has so much attraction and why we push our bodies to our limits. No one else understands it and I've never really eloquently explained it, so I'll attempt to do it now, I guess. Since tomorrow's Turkey Day and I have no homework I need to do and as such am bored. And I'm practicing at actually showing emotions in writing since I've always held myself back from that.
"This story begins, as everything does, at the beginning. You get in the boat, sit down, maneuver around the other crews launching and head up to the head of the race at a light paddle. You get to the head of the race preferably without incident or collisions with anything (I once got slapped in the face with an oar when a men's novii boat almost ran into us), grab onto a rope and get ready. The buzzer, gun, whatever goes off and you start to pull.
The first few meters are just focusing on getting the start right and getting into a rythm and balance with your boat. Once you settle into a rythm, you then focus on pulling. You start to pull harder and harder, and all you think about is your body. A rower is a picture of efficiency, never a wasted movement, never a sacrificed breath. Your whole body is connected, everything from the toes you use to stabilize the catch of your stroke, to the tips of your fingers that grip the oar featherlight as you pull through the water, to the lips that begin to tingle when you've hit your limit. Halfway through your whole body begins to ache, your eyes start to water, your saliva gets thick, and you pull harder. Two-thirds through and you have the beginnings of tunnel vision, and you begin to hear the cheers from the crowd carrying over the water and you pull harder. 500 meters left and your whole body burns, your muscles ache, all you can see is shapes and you sink into your mind to find the will left to pull harder. You pull harder with every stroke, finally building up to the last 100 meters, where you can't go anymore, all you hear is your breath and the blood pounding in your ears, your muscles are screaming for you to stop, your hands are blistered and raw, your head is pounding, your throat is dry, your saliva is thick and you have to look in yourself and find the strength to pull as hard as you possibly can until you cross that finish line, and then everything seems clear. In that moment you're not worried about who won, where you placed, what your time was. In that moment you feel pure, almost naked, like you've gone to hell and come out the other side, clean and free, purged through the blood and sweat and pain that you left on the water. You've come out the other side stronger and better than you were, because you found the will and strength to push your body and your mind past their limits, and you feel invincible, that you've crushed those limits that have been placed on you and broken free."
That's just me, but maybe it will help explain why rowers row.