To row or not to row?

I revel in individual sports. Mostly running. I like it because I can do it alone, and I like to do it alone. Yes, I did play team sports in high school and an adult women's soccer league. Back in South Carolina, I did join a couple running relays, but that was only 32 hours of team running (insert shout out to team Howie-licious this weekend!) 

Then my friend Mary convinced me to run with a running group every once in a while. This was a big step for me. It involved running not alone. And I didn’t mind it, though mostly I only talked and ran with Mary (and her friends because unlike me, she is a social person). It was a good way to meet people with things in common who are also obsessed with running and don’t mind talking about chaffing and the upcoming racing calendar. So upon moving to Perth, I considered (though never got to the point of actively pursuing), joining some type of running group. Leon introduced me as a “triathlete”, so I had a few offers to join triathlon clubs. But in my head, all Aussie athletes are mini-Craig Alexander Ironman champions, so needless to say I was a bit intimidated (not to mention the whole anti-social runner thing).

When I moved here, I decided this was my opportunity to try new things. Snorkel with manta rays, roast kangaroo on a campfire under the Southern Cross, and drive a ute across the outback. While I’m still working on some (or all) of these things, I have tried to say “yes” to new opportunities that present themselves and to search for new things to try.

One of these new endeavors has been rowing. Cycling and running along the Swan river in the early morning, I could see the rowers gliding across the water, and figured that if I was ever going to learn to row, this was my opportunity, living in the land of eternal summer sunshine and being in a location where I’m able to see the river (and almost the boatshed) from my bedroom window. Fortunately for me, with only a little research necessary, I found that the West Australian Rowing Club, Perth's oldest rowing club, has a Learn 2 Row program for newbies (aka me).

 

 

The deck from the balcony.

Now the most important thing that I have learned about rowing is that it starts EARLY. I guess I always knew this, but had never given it much previous thought. While I enjoyed the summer sunrises, it is now dark for the first half of our sessions, and is only going to get worse.

 The boat shed at dawn.

 

 Can't beat these sunrises on a quiet river.

For five sessions we met our fearless coach Jimmy at 5am. Several mornings we arrived only to be greeted by a white-capped swan river, and because we have no idea what to do with an oar (let alone what “stoke side” “check” “backing” or “tapping” is), we stuck to the ergos (rowing machines) indoors.  But we did get on the water. Coming from a completely individual sport (running), I must say it started out frustrating being part of the crew, where you are completely dependent on the rowers behind you and in front of you. If the person in front can’t row at a steady rhythm, too bad, you have to follow them. It the rower behind you can’t, too bad, you end up with an oar in the back. Not to mention the need all work together to balance the boat (which we still haven’t figured out).

After Learn 2 Row, we moved on to the Development Squad. 

 

John, John, and John (aka BJ: Big John, LJ: Little John, and OJ: Other John) of Dev Squad washing down the boat.

  

There were about 12 of us who came from various Learn 2 Row sessions under the wise expertise of Coach Debbie. Mondays and Thursdays we rocked up (like that Kyla?!) to the boatshed to learn which of the 13 parts of a stroke we were doing wrong today (usually all of them). She even started a chart for us to track our progress.

And the Westies rowers are great. Quite a social, thirsty bunch. Peope have their bad days, but what can you expect at 5 in the morning?

My Learn 2 Row crew NOT at 5 am.

I must say I have learned a WHOLE lot and grown to appreciate anyone who calls themselves a rower. I have calluses and blisters. We’ve seen beautiful sunrises, lightning bolts, rainbows, and dolphins (once all in the same morning!). My “last” session of summer rowing was today. The competitive season starts April 1^st, as we head into the winter of potentially dark, cold mornings. Now it’s time to decide if I want to join for the year and race. I’m not sure yet. Am I ready to call myself a rower? 

What do you think?

Because water like this is made for rowing...