Ohio in the Middle of July

Before I get to the next actual stop on our cross-country moving adventure I need to talk about a part of my life that is as much a part of my New York experience as stumbling home from bars, metro cards, and city living: rowing.

Have you ever been a part of a community that is so vital to everything you are that you can’t function without it? That is basically my athletic life in a nutshell. I’ve played sports for as long as I can remember because my mother recognized my lack of artistic ability, despite me begging her for voice and dance lessons. I think my lack of grace and coordination was a sign to everyone that I don’t have any rhythm (even if I’m still convinced I do).

After I gave up water polo, and swimming became boring, again, and tearing everything in my knee in forced me to give up running, I listened to the annoying voice in my head – you know the one, I like to call it “Mom” – I tried rowing. And I was awful. But I loved it. I was entirely convinced that I would be amazing at it, since I’m a giant with monster legs. But it is still the hardest thing I have ever pursued. And it is my obsession. Rowing got me out of a period of depression while living in DC and I knew I couldn’t let it go when I moved back to New York. I started rowing at age 28, which is severely behind most people, and I feel like I’ve been making up for lost time ever since. I finally figured out the coordination part, which as you may recall from above, is kind of an issue for me. I worked on the erg, or rowing machine, for several months until I didn’t absolutely suck.

I rejoined The New York Athletic Club, this time with rowing, instead of water polo, and with them I found a community of athletes who love the sport as much as I do, as well as one of my best friends, and a continuous desire to just be better. I’ve constantly been trying to not be the absolute worst person in any boat, be stronger and faster on the erg, and not flip myself in the single. So far, so good. You don’t wake up at 4:00AM just because you like to hang out in a boathouse. Well, I don’t. But for two summers I did for eight weeks of training to attempt to put together a solid team for Club Nationals of Canadian Henley. Did we win? No. I was a part of some pretty solid boats, even medalling at my first two appearances at Club Nationals. And I would not want to race for any other club team. Because my team was amazing. And wearing the winged foot is an honor. Saying goodbye to the NYAC Rowing Team was almost harder than saying goodbye to New York. In just a few sort years I found a new obsession, and an amazing community that I will always be a part of.

Up until I discovered rowing I played sports for the sheer love of the sport until that love was beaten out of me by catty teammates and coaches who cared about playing favorites. Rowing isn’t like that. There isn’t room for one girl’s ego in a boat of 8 equally strong athletes. Winning as a team in any sport is great, but for me, winning in a boat of some of the most amazing ladies I will ever have the privilege to know is my slice of heaven. Rowing doesn’t care who you are. If you work your ass off and train for those brutal 2Ks results will be there. If you give your all to rowing it will just welcome you into this sadistic sport and give you the biggest bear hug and never let go. Not even if your legs are dying and you want to eat everything in sight. Because that will happen. Rowing is a sickness and I’m never getting better.

Because of all the things I just stated above I cannot think of a reason not to spend a few hours in Ohio in mid-July to watch my former team kick some butt at Club Nationals. Seriously. They killed it. Watching the speed and beauty of a close boat race where all the oars are in sync and the power just exudes from all rowers, is as close to heaven as I will get. I mean, I’m a horrible person, we all know this, so finding that perfect rhythm is as close as I will come to perfection. So with one final good-bye to the best sport, I’m heading out again.