Happy July!

Today is July 1st. It is (was?) the birthdate of both my late uncle and my late grandfather. If you're out there, reading or watching, hey there and I'm sorry we had such strange relationships, respectively.

Anyway, onto rowing. Today was a good day!

I don't know why, I woke up this morning just dying to go back to bed. I was talking to one of my fellow classmates on if it's easier to get up early on Monday or Wednesday. We both agreed that Monday was ever so slightly easier. As I'm typing, I'm kind of thinking...maybe it's this: Easier to get up on Monday, but easier to row on Wednesday?

Today was windier out there, so harder to keep the boat level. And when not everyone is rowing, when we row in pairs and fours (described in a sec), you have to work harder at keeping the boat level. Your oar has to float, flat, on top of the water.

I was watching my oar lying flat this morning, when I wasn't rowing, and it came to me: Like frosting a cake. When you get the flat spatula/icing knife loaded with icing but have to maintain a flat edge to make the cake appear seamless...that is sorta what it's like. Stay flat, even, smooth...it helps everyone else on the boat.

When I get out there I sometimes wonder if I'm going to get seasick. It's not bad, but it's a little topsy turvy and unbalanced. It's also so strange--not bad, just odd--to see the river from three inches above it. I see runners like a speck, much in the same way as a runner, I'd see rowers like a speck. Nifty. I feel very much a part of Morning On The Portland Waterfront, no matter what I'm doing. And I like that.

I realized that driving there and driving home--I think I like mornings because I like avoiding other people, and mornings are when you can usually do that. Hee.

(this is what happens when you go and get coffee in the middle of a post. where the hell was I?)

So today I was in Seat 6 for most of the time. It went really well, I thought. The guy who doesn't know what he's doing was behind me, phew. I don't mean to sound like a bitch, but at least I know I'm not wrong for thinking what I think when I hear him get called out on going too fast or stuff like that. I should be nicer, okay, I'll stop.

Anyway, it was a good row, though I later learn that seats 5&6 are actually the easiest seats on the boat, so of course paranoid me is thinking "I got put there because I need the easy seat!" But then I got pulled out to let other people switch off, but then got put back in again at seat 1 because the woman there was having back issues. That seemed really easy, so I dunno. On one hand I kind of want the challenge of seat 8. That is supposed to be the toughest, but it's also the most kind of...topsy-turvy, so you need good balance. I don't know if I am coordinated enough. But I had good, consistent strokes.

I kind of like this stuff. It's fun.

But dear lord! it is early. And rowers are tough. I don't know that I'm tough enough.

Part of this is, I would like to be a natural at something.

I think in what I try, part of me wants to succeed, immensely and immediately. I totally have no patience. I want to be a natural. I want to be more than that; I want to be a prodigy. Some weird, supernatural talent that's immediately identified.

I learned I wasn't a natural at the drums. At least not natural enough for me to run right out and buy a drum set--not to mention the conundrums (hee! -drums. conundrii?) of where to put it and with what money? So yeah.

I'm not like that with running. But I enjoy the hell out of it. And I can say I have improved immensely since I first started doing it. But I'm not a natural. The fact w/running is that I ding my body up so much doing something which should be natural--it is a pretty good indication that I'm not a natural runner! I would also have to be shaped differently, long legs instead of a long torso. Trust, tall & thin does not a runner make. I can't tell you how many times I've been lapped by short chunky people.

But running is teaching me that effort matters, too. I once wrote something for my running club publication about how running's one of the only things where my level of effort exceeds my achievement. Previously I wouldn't have kept doing something that I wasn't great at. But I do it. And what's weirdest is that I enjoy it. I enjoy that growth. I don't know if that's because of maturity or because of running. but I do it.

With the rowing, I wonder if this is something I could be a natural at. This probably sounds really narcissistic, but what the hell. I enjoy it so far (save the early and the drudgery of getting the boat and oars etc. down to the water). I'm always kind of apprehensive at first, but then I like it once we're out there. Maybe that's okay--a healthy respect for the prospect of tipping over is kind of a good thing, yes?

Wow, that caffeine is hitting me. I feel almost like I'm still in the boat!

And when I was leaving, walking through the parking lot, one of the women in my class stopped me and complimented my rowing! She was saying that I looked really good out there (she was in the boat alongside us), and then said something like "Yeah, I was looking at you and thinking 'I want to be behind her!'" and then we laughed. It was really nice to hear and I'm sure it was genuine.

I hope next week's rows feel that good, and that I don't forget everything by Monday. It kind of picked me up for the day. Sure, I've had some professional setbacks lately, and have been down about those (hey at least I still have a job), but hearing that really made me feel good.

If only I could remember her name.