Last Saturday was my rowing club's annual early Fall race/challenge (a race for others, still a challenge for me) called the Pike Island Challenge.
It's a nice 13 mile row up the Mississippi, around Pike Island and back. It's nice because the scenery around the island is a mix of scenic (herons, bald eagles and foxes) and industrial (looming interstate bridge overhead at one spot) with a little finesse factor thrown in - it's narrow around the island; in fact, you have to pull your oars in as you go under one of the bridges on the western edge of the island and need to avoid grounding yourself in the Mississippi mud.
Well, it's usually nice, I hear -I had never been all the way around before - but on Saturday I was relegated to the "leftover 8+" and the row waS "interesting". (I had wanted to scull, but instead I was placed in a sweep boat.) I'm not saying the crew weren't good rowers but it was a mix of people who hadn't rowed a lot together or ever - some club rowers, some competitive rowers and me. And, god forbid, I was put in the "engine room" - 6th seat, which is supposed to be the power and technical position. There were a lot more technically-oriented rowers than me in the boat and while I could've been the "power" in the row - the row was more or less an equivalent of an easy jog. No real power needed.
I did enjoy the scenery, but because we were a disparate bunch, there wasn't alot of cohesiveness and camaraderie. While the eight of us were ok (me, for example) to good rowers (two competitive team members) - the boat (ENOTS 1 - a large while whale of a ship) lurched and lumbered it's way up and down the river. There was no sense of swing and it just felt ... uncomfortable. I knew it was going to be a long day when I realized that the boat had only covered half the distance in twice the number of strokes than the double I usually row in the morning about 2 miles into the row.
It was a head-style race and we had been passed by the 4 boats that started after us even before we hit the halfway mark. Discouraging to say the least. Despite this, I did try to increase the pressure and move the boat a little bit with the last mile to go - mainly because we were going on 2 hours of constant rowing and I had lost feeling in my left buttock.
We eventually made it back to the boat house and my spirits lifted when I saw Laura, Peter and Laura's father waving at me from the house's ramps. They had come down to get the breakfast and partake in the social events after the row.
However, my spirits took a little plunge when I got out of the boat and my hamstring wasn't just numb but also wasn't functioning! I seriously thought I was going to have to be air-lifted off the dock, because there was no way I could've made it up the incline on one leg. Luckily, my "dead leg" came back to life after a few minutes and I was able to lurch up the dock, similar to how ENOTS had traveled while in the river!
The breakfast and festivities afterward made it worth the while. My in-laws who were in town for the weekend were enjoying the atmosphere and the scenerey and Peter and Laura and I made the most of the inflatable jumping house-thingy. I'm sure I was over the weight limit, but Peter and Laura and I couldn't help collapsing into a big giggling pile inside of it.
Next year ... no more eights; hopefully a double - hmm, may be a single?
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