I love to row. It is easily my favorite part of the day. Without thinking, if you asked me what I love to do I’d say (yep you guessed it) “rowing.” I’ve never called myself an athlete but since joining crew in my junior year of high school, I wouldn’t hesitate to call myself one. This week I’ve been struggling to think to about what it is I want to write about, and I decided to give in to my chronic thoughts and passions. I was going to save my “rowing article” for after my first collegiate regatta, or when our boat wins a race, or even when we lose. But, right now, and hopefully for a long time after, rowing is why life is good right now.

For six days out of the week I wake up between four and five o’clock to the sweet sounds of my alarm clock and a text from my lovely “wake-up buddy,” Emma. Usually our conversation consists of how cold it is outside, what we’re going to eat for breakfast, or just complaining about how tired we are. As we walk to the boathouse we hope and pray one of the varsity rowers will drive up and offer us a ride considering the water is about a fifteen to twenty minute walk, and in 30 degree weather it doesn’t make us want to get there any faster. Sometimes we luck out, and Will comes to our rescue and other times, we “mom walk” like we never have before, whilst also singing “Get Low” by Flo Rida. Eventually we arrive at the house and are usually still singing, which has now become so common that the rest of our teammates are mostly unphased. And thus begins our practice.

Every rowing team has a certain boat house organization and routine for preparing for their practice and so do we. Although, I don’t feel the need to reiterate such a process, but just understand that some practices start earlier or later than others based on the circumstances…

Anyways.

Practice is pretty different each day. Your body feels different each day, and some days it feels better than others. Lately, as a novice rower, our coach has helped us become stronger as individual athletes while learning and improving the stroking technique which is critical to rowing.

If there’s anything you should know about my experience as a rower, it’s that we are literally a family. Sometimes the family is too big to really get to know everyone, and that’s very similar to collegiate rowing versus high school, especially since my high school team is a baby and grew up together. Rowing is such a team sport; if one person falls, their other teammates go with them. But, same holds true if one person pulls their hardest and succeeds. When that one person sets the tone for the rowers behind them, that’s when the most beautiful connection on earth occurs. Because, when that connection happens, you become tremendously vulnerable and become aware of every part and movement of your body. A connection throughout a whole boat is the most addictive drug around.

The feeling can only be described as a high.

Your body craves the workouts even if your mind doesn’t. Body weight circuits, running miles upon miles, erging, and the best workout; being on the water.

With every stroke you aim to push harder from your legs until your butt comes off the seat.

At this point, your muscles are tight and your breathing is out of sync with your stroke. The more you pull, the better your breathing.

The more you breathe, the better your stroke.

Your focus stays within the boat no matter the pain you feel.

Your breathing quickens but becomes rhythmic.

The only thing you’re thinking about is following the athlete in front of you, in order to stay focused for the athlete behind you.

The only voice you here is that of your coxswain. Telling you to pull harder, keep breathing, keep moving, and know that we can do this. Just keep sending the boat. Let the boat run at our recovery. Drive the legs down to get closer and closer to our sprint.

In five strokes the boat will gain strength and speed to sprint to the finish. Less than 500 meters are left until the bow ball flies past the buoy markers. Your muscles feel like they’re going to give out on you but your mind and heart won’t let them because your family in the boat is all the matters. You have to keep going.

In five strokes we’re going to paddle. This means we’ve come to the end and we can only hope that we’ve done all that we can to come out stronger than we came in.

No matter the outcome, we’re a family.

"Marathon runners talk about hitting 'the wall' at the twenty-third mile of the race. What rowers confront isn't a wall; it's a hole - an abyss of pain, which opens up in the second minute of the race. Large needles are being driven into your thigh muscles, while your forearms seem to be splitting. Then the pain becomes confused and disorganized, not like the windedness of the runner or the leg burn of the biker but an all-over, savage unpleasantness. As you pass the five-hundred-meter mark, with three-quarters of the race still to row, you realize with dread that you are not going to make it to the finish, but at the same time the idea of letting your teammates down by not rowing your hardest is unthinkable...Therefore, you are going to die. Welcome to this life." -- Ashleigh Teitel