back it down, stern pair

Twice a week, I set my alarm for 5:30. If I'm smart, I go to bed early on these days; I am not frequently so self-possessed. Morning comes and the darkness outside is oppressive. The sun won't rise for two more hours, and the temperature generally hovers right around freezing. I dress as warmly as I am able and walk down to the boathouse: half an hour's walk away, giving me ample time to eat my morning banana. The grass is bathed in frost; the sharp wind cuts through all my layered clothing. Once everyone arrives, we pull out the boat, which bruises our shoulders to carry. Slipping my feet into the boat's built-in shoes is sometimes wet, and nearly always cold--very cold. By 6:30, we are off. Our boat cuts silently through the icy water, but the thick purplish fog ensures that we wouldn't be able to tell black water from black sky even, perhaps, were it not before sunrise.

Why do I subject myself to this twice-weekly torture? Well, the short answer is that I don't know. Every time I leave my warm bed for the cold torture of a rowing outing, I ask myself the same thing.

Someone told me the other day that he didn't think anyone simultaneously loathed and adored their sport so much as rowers. Definitely true. We complain constantly. We joke about how crazy we are and how much we wish we were back in bed, or at least back at Starbucks. Don't let us fool you, though: we love it.

Here's the senior crew--the Regent's Women's A Crew--in our race at Nepthys last weekend

Last week was intense: we had Nepthys regatta at the weekend, and three of us on the novice crew (two stroke-sides and a bow-side, which refers to our rowing positions) were temporarily promoted to senior crew, which means that we had two races at Nepthys, along with the associated practice sessions.

The novice crew: coaches Rosie, Lottie, and Fran are on the ends. Lottie is our main coach, and she's the shiny one. We rowers all have matching novice-crew shirts, and our coxswain Chella is the one crouching. 

This weekend is Christchurch Regatta: the big novice regatta of the year. We go up against Mansfield's novice A crew on Wednesday. If we win, we race again Friday; if we lose, there's a repercharge and we therefore row again on Thursday. Either way, we've come a long way in two months, and I'm proud enough of us for constantly braving the early-morning dark and cold that it doesn't much matter how we do in the race.

In the meantime, though, I'm getting some respectable rowing calluses on my hands, and I fancy that I'm coping better with the cold than I did at first...

which is good enough for me.