Rowing update
Feb. 3rd, 2006 11:28 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rebeccmeisterI've been meaning to write about rowing. My 11:00 class was cancelled, and I don't feel like feeding and watering all of my ants quite yet, so rowing it is. Yay Friday--this Friday, at least. It's not as insanely busy as most, which is good, because the weekend will be. (grumble, grumble)
I basically stopped rowing somewhere in the middle of the summer last year. Sure, I hopped on the erg (rowing machine) and did an erg marathon in September, and sure, I went back to Boston and raced in the Head of the Charles, but all serious training stopped when I started training for the marathon. I'm a one-sport athlete, and running and rowing don't really complement each other very well. They are both fantastic forms of cardiovascular activity, but returning to rowing has meant coming to grips with an atrophied upper body.
Anyway, this spring, I am trying to get back into rowing, but a lot of circumstances have changed. I'm no longer part of a team with a lot of complicated group dynamics; I am training with only two, sometimes three, other people, and we are all primarily training in the single (1-person boats). This means that the mental dynamics of the game are changed. In larger boats, all of the people in the boat have to figure out how to work together to go fast. This means making commitments and sticking to them--like making sure to show up to practice, agreeing to listen to and follow the commands of another person, etc. Rowing in the single requires a different type of commitment. If I don't show up to practice, I'm basically the only person who loses out. I can also choose to just blow off a practice--show up and then just dink around because the only person's whose time I'm wasting is my own. So I am left trying to figure out how to make this commitment to myself.
Both of the other two rowers that I am training with have been extremely helpful and supportive with this transition. I asked one of them to needle me when I don't show up to practice. So far, the needling hasn't helped *too* much (I missed two Wednesday practices in a row), but guilt should do the trick next week. The other rower is a fantastic help because she is almost exactly as fast as I am. Granted, she's 20 years older than me, but still--she has much more sculling experience, so her experience balances out my youthful, semi-out-of-shape exuberance and sloppy rowing. This is an ideal situation because we will keep things interesting for each other. There will be no easy wins in practice, but having someone next to you as you train is great motivation to go faster. I've always been frustrated by rowing coaches who don't train two boats next to each other, because this same game is great practice for all rowers. Races are always better when it isn't clear who is going to win, and when the competitors are forced to ride the edge of their abilities to pull ahead.
Although running has been fun, it has presented a different sort of challenge than rowing. I can't push myself to run in the same way that I push myself to row. And it feels good to get back into the rowing groove.
I basically stopped rowing somewhere in the middle of the summer last year. Sure, I hopped on the erg (rowing machine) and did an erg marathon in September, and sure, I went back to Boston and raced in the Head of the Charles, but all serious training stopped when I started training for the marathon. I'm a one-sport athlete, and running and rowing don't really complement each other very well. They are both fantastic forms of cardiovascular activity, but returning to rowing has meant coming to grips with an atrophied upper body.
Anyway, this spring, I am trying to get back into rowing, but a lot of circumstances have changed. I'm no longer part of a team with a lot of complicated group dynamics; I am training with only two, sometimes three, other people, and we are all primarily training in the single (1-person boats). This means that the mental dynamics of the game are changed. In larger boats, all of the people in the boat have to figure out how to work together to go fast. This means making commitments and sticking to them--like making sure to show up to practice, agreeing to listen to and follow the commands of another person, etc. Rowing in the single requires a different type of commitment. If I don't show up to practice, I'm basically the only person who loses out. I can also choose to just blow off a practice--show up and then just dink around because the only person's whose time I'm wasting is my own. So I am left trying to figure out how to make this commitment to myself.
Both of the other two rowers that I am training with have been extremely helpful and supportive with this transition. I asked one of them to needle me when I don't show up to practice. So far, the needling hasn't helped *too* much (I missed two Wednesday practices in a row), but guilt should do the trick next week. The other rower is a fantastic help because she is almost exactly as fast as I am. Granted, she's 20 years older than me, but still--she has much more sculling experience, so her experience balances out my youthful, semi-out-of-shape exuberance and sloppy rowing. This is an ideal situation because we will keep things interesting for each other. There will be no easy wins in practice, but having someone next to you as you train is great motivation to go faster. I've always been frustrated by rowing coaches who don't train two boats next to each other, because this same game is great practice for all rowers. Races are always better when it isn't clear who is going to win, and when the competitors are forced to ride the edge of their abilities to pull ahead.
Although running has been fun, it has presented a different sort of challenge than rowing. I can't push myself to run in the same way that I push myself to row. And it feels good to get back into the rowing groove.
