There is something I should be doing this weekend – racing with my rowing crew in the Head of the Charles Regatta. The HOCR, as it is familiarly called, is the most prestigious rowing regatta in the U.S hosting over 7500 athletes from around the world to compete in 55 different events. The three-mile course on Boston’s Charles River is lined with 300,000 spectators for the two-day regatta.
For most rowers, qualifying to race at HOCR is a lifetime’s achievement. To win at the HOCR becomes an obsession. I have been fortunate to race there six times, coming close to winning last year when we finished 2nd.
This year, my crew is Marin Rowing Association’s Grand Masters Women’s 8. The rule is average age of the eight rowers must be 60+. Our crew this year is better, faster and stronger than last year thanks to the miracle of aging up. Younger, stronger and more skilled rowers bring their talent and muscles with them as they age-qualify for older boats. We all felt that we had enough additional speed to avenge our 2007 loss and our chances for that elusive gold medal seemed within the realm of possibility.
When, with 8 weeks of training left, I injured my shoulder badly enough that it required surgery to repair, I became obsessed with how to help power this crew to victory. Still getting up at 4:15am to go to practice, I sat on the launch and watched these women do drills, do simulated race pieces against much younger crews, get down on themselves, work things out and eventually become a unit. In my own way, I willed them to do great things, much like a bowler wills his ball into the pocket with contorted body language.
To grasp some idea of the motion and effort of a rowing stroke, think about it this way: every rowing stroke is a full-on leg press. Coaches often talk about driving with your legs hard enough to make it feel like a 400-pound leg press. Knowing that it would take my crew about 18 minutes to complete the 3-mile course and that they would be racing at 30 strokes per minute, I calculated that they would be doing the equivalent of 540 leg presses. I promised them that during their race, I would be at the gym, visualizing the course and giving them all the psychological power I could by doing those 540 leg presses with them. When they got to that pain place, that place where you have nothing left, they could rely on my leg power to get them beyond it. I would be the 9th rower on that 8-woman crew.
I am obsessed with winning that race. My crew did win – they will come home with HOCR gold medals wrapped around their necks for the first time. I feel a part of it, especially today, the day after. My sore legs and hangover remind me of yesterday’s effort and last night’s bi-coastal celebration. It was and is a thrill and, I hope to have another shot at that elusive gold medal next year. Calvin Klein may think Obsession makes men smell nice. My obsession makes me smell like sweat.
What is the smell of Obsession?
There is something I should be doing this weekend – racing with my rowing crew in the Head of the Charles Regatta. The HOCR, as it is familiarly called, is the most prestigious rowing regatta in the U.S hosting over 7500 athletes from around the world to compete in 55 different events. The three-mile course on Boston’s Charles River is lined with 300,000 spectators for the two-day regatta.
For most rowers, qualifying to race at HOCR is a lifetime’s achievement. To win at the HOCR becomes an obsession. I have been fortunate to race there six times, coming close to winning last year when we finished 2nd.
This year, my crew is Marin Rowing Association’s Grand Masters Women’s 8. The rule is average age of the eight rowers must be 60+. Our crew this year is better, faster and stronger than last year thanks to the miracle of aging up. Younger, stronger and more skilled rowers bring their talent and muscles with them as they age-qualify for older boats. We all felt that we had enough additional speed to avenge our 2007 loss and our chances for that elusive gold medal seemed within the realm of possibility.
When, with 8 weeks of training left, I injured my shoulder badly enough that it required surgery to repair, I became obsessed with how to help power this crew to victory. Still getting up at 4:15am to go to practice, I sat on the launch and watched these women do drills, do simulated race pieces against much younger crews, get down on themselves, work things out and eventually become a unit. In my own way, I willed them to do great things, much like a bowler wills his ball into the pocket with contorted body language.
To grasp some idea of the motion and effort of a rowing stroke, think about it this way: every rowing stroke is a full-on leg press. Coaches often talk about driving with your legs hard enough to make it feel like a 400-pound leg press. Knowing that it would take my crew about 18 minutes to complete the 3-mile course and that they would be racing at 30 strokes per minute, I calculated that they would be doing the equivalent of 540 leg presses. I promised them that during their race, I would be at the gym, visualizing the course and giving them all the psychological power I could by doing those 540 leg presses with them. When they got to that pain place, that place where you have nothing left, they could rely on my leg power to get them beyond it. I would be the 9th rower on that 8-woman crew.
I am obsessed with winning that race. My crew did win – they will come home with HOCR gold medals wrapped around their necks for the first time. I feel a part of it, especially today, the day after. My sore legs and hangover remind me of yesterday’s effort and last night’s bi-coastal celebration. It was and is a thrill and, I hope to have another shot at that elusive gold medal next year. Calvin Klein may think Obsession makes men smell nice. My obsession makes me smell like sweat.
Leave a remark
We need at least your name and an email address.