Whoops

Yesterday morning. Terrible night's sleep. Dreamt I slept through my rowing class--my last real one!--to...sleep through my rowing class.

The alarm was set for 4:45 a.m. For some reason, the volume had been turned down--I think I knocked it when I moved some clothes on my dresser.

(Hey, it's a $5 alarm clock. It doesn't play music, it plays static.)

I woke up, panicked. 5:45.

I missed the class.

I couldn't even go down to the boathouse, because they would have already been well away from the dock.

I was sad.

You know what bothered me? Not only missing out on something I like, but the paranoia that creeps in--oh my gosh, what if people have a great rowing day out there and they start thinking that *I'm* the one who's the fuckup?

There are a few practice sessions before the regatta, but I can only make 1 of them (and barely at that).

Saturday @ 7 -- I'm running. it'll be early because of the hot.
Monday @ 5:30 a.m. - Can't make this one.
Wednesday @ 5:30 a.m. -- Can make this one, but it'll be on not much sleep and I'll be shitty, I bet.

I'm annoyed.

But I still want to do this. I said I was interested, and I will follow through.

I think.

I am a big planner. A big committer. I like to say "hey, yeah, I'll go and do that, " or "Let's get together," or "I'll throw a party!" anything like that--but really, when it comes down to it, there are very few things (if anything) that I don't want to cancel last-minute.

I think I've gotten better at this, but it's still my first impulse. To say "Naw. I won't do it, after all."

I don't know why I do that, but I do. It is innate. Oftentimes at parties--even ones I throw, especially ones I throw--I go upstairs and hide a little bit. Like, I use the pretense of checking in on the cats, which are sequestered in a bedroom. I just feel like I need to hit the "pause" button on myself.

That's a feeling that's not concrete enough for me to make one of my Tries. It's just something I'm sharing.

But I think I need to go to this regatta.

Eek.

Wow, have I not written since July 8? That's not good. I must become a better blogger. maybe that will be one of my tries--blog every day for a month?

Rowing is going pretty well, I think. Yesterday out on the water was nice--it doesn't hurt that it is insanely hot for Portland lately, and it's much nicer than to gut it out trying to do a 8-ish mile run that involves Mt. Tabor and improper hydration. Do as I say, not as I do, kids.

I've decided I'll do this regatta the first weekend in August. I think we'lll kind of suck but at least we'll have fun. Right? I hope? There seem to be some cool people in the class, I'm not worried about that, but it's more of the "Wow, I hope we don't completely embarrass ourselves."

So I've been thinking about my next try. I'm pretty sure it's going to be having to learn to ride a bike.

We are planning a quick roadtrip to SE Oregon soon, but I can't really use that as one of my tries. I'm not trying anything. I'm just going somewhere. By that end I couldn't use the Japan trip, but the "I'd never been to Asia" element kind of makes up for it. Right?

Also the eating meat thing will probably have to happen.

Maybe.

More soon, after I've thought more about bikes.

Today was not so the greatest day

Haven't posted in a while.

Monday it was too windy to go out there. There were whitecaps. So a few of us used the ergs and then I left, drove home, changed and went for a 4-mile run. Too windy to row = wonderful to run. Cloudy, breezy, felt good.

They will tack an extra, make-up class onto the end, but I'll be unable to go that day. So either we can apply it to another class or just get $15 back (10 classes are $150). I haven't decided which I am going to do. More on that later.

Monday I was up late and so woke up too late on Tuesday to get my run in. I went in the evening. By then it had cleared up and it was hot! I think running in the heat (and when you run, 70 and sunny = heat!) is something I will always have a hard time getting used to.

Since I moved to Portland right around the time I started running (outside, as opposed to treadmill), I don't know if it's that I got used to the cool vs. the hot or that I just got older and less able to deal with the heat or quite frankly if I've become a big fucking wuss...but I like cloudy + 50s/60s. At least to run in. If I want sunny and hot, I also want an umbrella drink in hand.

Or to be on the water.

Because this morning it was cool, and a little bit breezy. Certainly not as windy as Monday (and ironically, Tuesday, the day I don't have class, the water was super-calm and still). It was definitely the choppiest water we'd been in.

Rowing this morning was a pain in the ass (and, I suppose, the wrist).

Today was one of those days that you just don't have confidence. We learned to feather the oars, which I still haven't mastered. Feathering basically means you slightly angle the oar by twisting your wrist when the oar comes out of the water. I can't remember which wrist it is, I think it's the inside. Let me find a link that, once again, explains it better than I can.

Oh! Look! Wikipedia to the rescue. Not only does it describe the feather, but it also describes what I haven't yet tried to explain about the "catch" and such:

The two fundamental reference points in the anatomy of a rowing stroke are the
catch where the oar blade is placed in the water, and the extraction (also known as the 'finish', 'release' or 'tapping down') where the oar blade is removed from the water. After the blade is placed in the water at the catch, the rower applies pressure
to the oar levering the boat forward which is called the drive phase of the
stroke. Once the rower extracts the oar from the water, the recovery phase begins,
setting up the rower's body for the next stroke.

And here's the feathering info:

sweep oar rowers usually feather and square the oar with the inside hand (the
one closer to the rowlock), allowing the handle to turn within the outside hand, whose wrist remains flat throughout.

I totally did this wrong. I think. My wrists were sore, which is how I know. How are one's wrists sore? I don't know, but I can tell you that it is possible.

What feathering meant to me is that you turn the oar so that the blade is flat and then turn it back to straight before you dip it back into the water.

I don't know, at least I wasn't behind the guy who doesn't know what he's doing. And continues to not know what he's doing. He kept getting called out "Slow down!"

And the boat wouldn't balance, and it wasn't my fault, so that every time I tried to row the bot would go all cockeyed and I couldn't get my stroke right. And then we didn't have a cox today, so folks took turns steering. We need a cox. We're all pretty sad silly novice rowers. We need cox. Ha. That's funny.

Anyway, I knew today would be like one of those days, we were told it would be one of those days.

So now I might go to Seattle in August for a regatta. There is a category for novices who have not learned to row before June 1. I'm tempted; the houseguests I thought we were going to have might move until Labor Day weekend. We'll see. I might know more today.

I also haven't decided if I want to do an intermediate class. If so, I'd do the one in the evenings. Getting up that early is freaking tough. But then I'm glad I'm up.

I'm indecisive today.

Speaking of indecisive, I've been thinking about the next thing I'll try. It probably should be riding a bike.

But here's the thing: I don't own a bike, or have access to a bike. Or a helmet, for that matter, and there is no way I am getting on a bike without a helmet. Getting to a bike might take me some time. And I have visions of falling off it and then fucking up my chances to run a good marathon. Stranger things have happened.

I want to see if any bike shops would be interested. I want to pitch it as more of an article too, I need to get on that.

Okay, today is a rambling kind of post. I'll think of it as a freewrite for the other writing I'm about to start.

Maybe after lunch.

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.

Open Water

We left the dock today!

And rowed.

Kind of.

Eight of us get in the boat. Mind you, this is not a big boat. It is small, narrow, and round though it weighs a ton, as I've mentioned earlier. You don't have room to stretch out much, or if you do then you better make sure you're stretching at the same time other people are stretching. Plus, you are pretty close to the water, like three inches from being in the water.

Narrow boat. Small boat. Especially when the person in back of you starts rowing and if you are not--you're going to take an oar to the kidney.

We rowed in pairs today. The other folks who weren't rowing had to keep the boat level. That is harder than rowing. You have to constantly adjust the handle of your oar so that you rest the blade flat on the water.

Then when we row, it's first arms and back, then with the legs. I was in seat 5, which means I was just about in the center of the boat. It also meant I didn't get a lot of time rowing--seems like the people in seats 7/8 and 1/2 do the most, just for steering purposes, mainly? I wanted more time rowing. Peter says that we'll rotate seats, which is good.

The class is mainly women, with 1 guy, now 2, as of today. This is my bone to pick, which I will get to in a sec.

At first I messed up. I was backing, instead of rowing. So I was pulling the boat backward, not forward. I don't know why I spaced this; I suppose it will be good when I have to, uh, back out of somewhere. Why did I do that? I don't know.

Then it was 5/6 turn (6 is in front of 5; so, as 5, I have to watch what 6 is doing and go in #6 rhythm. This is fine, and woman in front of me and I soon do well and are at a good rate, and the oar pulls through the water and there is that kind of...delightful pull, where you smooth through and there's like a fluid resistance but a yielding, cooperative resistance. I like that.

And then, because there are 8 people + the cox in the boat (Juanita, back again), and we had 9 people today. One person hangs out in the launch boat with Peter. This time, it was the new guy. And here is where I begin my "huh?":

Dude missed first 2 classes. You know, the ones where you learn how to row? So unless he took 2 other classes in a previous series and missed the rest and is making it up now, dude should have waited until the next go-round. I am surprised that they let people do that--join when they missed the classes that showed you how to do. You can't sit in a boat and watch other people row and then be assured you know how to do it.

But hey, maybe he got some classes on the side, or is a former rower, right?

Not so much. At least not in my opinion. Dude swaps out seat 5 with Heather and I have to watch him and his technique is awful and it's not consistent and it's just way, way too fast. It's not like I row like creepin' jesus, but OMG. Ungraceful, bad, lame, and of course seated in front of me. It was like, weirdly frantic or something. I couldn't do what he was doing, and yet, I had to! At one point I accidentally nudged him in the back with my oar. Serves you right for being such a flail, dude. Cox and Peter, I think, tried to get him to slow down, but by that point I looked like a bad rower, and you know what? I don't think I am a bad rower. I know it's not a competition, but I want to do a good job! And that's the thing about rowing; you can't do a good job if the person in front of you is doing a bad one. You have to copy. You have to copy it even if they are doing a bad job.

I'm an only child. You can imagine how well this sits with me!

No reason for a rant, really. I am feeling mean and sorry for myself. I hope it passes; I spent much of this weekend in a fugue state and I can't blame it on a hangover. I've been prone to depression all my life, am going through some stuff basically unrelated to 12Tries and which I don't feel much like discussing (J and I are fine and I have my health and all that, so blah blah blee), and I fear that will tip me over into something I've been trying to avoid for about 12 years or so--the return of the Sad.

But getting back to rowing: It was fun. I just wish I would have gotten to row more. It's hard!

J asked me when I came home this morning: "So what are you going to do with it?"

I don't know yet. I still have 7 more days in the water. Then there's an intermediate class if I want. But the thing is, you always need a group. I was never much for group sports; I like the solitude of running--sure, it can be better with a partner, but at the same time, you have to get it done, partner or not, otherwise you'll be a real bitch until you are able to do it.

Kind of like sex in that way.

I'm just learning, right now. That's all I got.

Glad and Sad

Second rowing class this morning.

We spent some time watching a video on how to go through a wake properly, water safety, and people falling out of boats. This has a name, but I forget it. A cat? Catch? I don't know. Rowing has weird terms. And I thought the word "gait" was weird?!

Then we went back to the ergs to work on our technique. First arms, then arms and back, then arms, back, and legs.

Arms back legs
Legs back arms

This I chanted to myself (in my head!) as I "rowed." I did so much better today! I don't know why. But I didn't get any kind of advice except to use my long arms, back, and legs. Hee!

Then we brought the boat down to the water. Yeah the boat bringing down is still a pain in the ass. More like pain in the shoulder. It's so odd, sometimes it seems super-light and others I feel like I'm carrying the whole thing by myself. Part of it is the angle--we have to bring the boat down and up a ramp to get to the river. Part of it is where you stand--this time, we arranged ourselves by height, which was supposed to help. I'm not so sure it did?

We didn't leave the dock this time either, but we did more in the boats than we did on Monday -- arms and back, and this time we added legs to it. You sort of row in a rectangle, a long thin rectangle. A good way to think of it, Peter said, is like using a rolling pin.

A really big, kind of unwieldy rolling pin with a big, uh, fin at the end.

But that kind of helped.

Kind of.

I happened to be at the front of the boat and people were following my motions. That's kind of what you do when you're rowing. Scary! It's like being the aerobics instructor, without the mirrors. And without proper training. Or coordination. Or those creepy mirrors. (You can tell I was never a big fan of group fitness classes.)

What I was having problems with was the point at which the the oar goes in the water. (Ha, she doesn't have both oars in the water--isn't that the "she's stupid" metaphor?) As I'm typing it, it goes back to the erg -- once you reach in and your body is forward and your legs come in, then the oar goes in and... you push BACK! And through! And it is fun!

And then we learned going backwards. To switch from front to back and back to front is a lot more difficult than it looks. I kind of fear what's going to happen when we get in the water. Did you know rowers don't use lifejackets? I never noticed that, but they don't. Peter or someone will be in a boat alongside us when we go out on the river for the first time.

The boat (named Tammy Faye, by the way) seats 8, but there are 11 of us in the class. I guess that's supposed to account for no-shows and dropouts, but I am thinking that I want to be in the boat as often as possible.

I am however glad that it's the last time this week I will have to get up THAT early. 6 a.m. is going to seem like, late to me.

Speaking of wakes: Maybe it was a beautiful morning, but it seemed a little easier to get up. I'm not saying waking up at 4:50 is something I'm excited about doing (at all) but it didn't seem as shitty as it did on Monday. I wonder why.

She only got one oar in the water...

That's like how you say someone's stupid, right? Like one card short of a full deck.
Like how I say "not the brightest chicken on the chopping block" (yeah ok even I don't know why I do that). Well that's what I did this morning.

I was up before the alarm -- OMG I don't even want to know what time that was; l I set my alarm to go off at 5, but our bedroom clock is set a few minutes fast, and it was one of those things where I was up before the alarm but stayed in bed anyway. So up and out the door and down to the boathouse on Water St. at 5:30 and I was one of the last folks there.

The boathouse is bustling. I never realized where it was, that it was there, that is was so big. There are a lot of boats, all so narrow, strapped to the walls, how is there so much activity before 6 a.m.? I never see that many people while running at that hour. It had a level of activity if not like the waterfront at noon on a sunny Wednesday, then it had that feel. Not as many people, but just the amount of...bustle. Who bustles that early? Even I don't!

(Incidentally: Who have I become? It's not enough to get up at 5:15 to run at 6 a.m.? Now I have to get up at 4:50 to row at 5:30? Should I just become a breadbaker at this point?)

There are -- 11? 12? of us? All women and one man. The instructor is a guy named Peter and he had someone from the club named...uh, I forget her name. Forgive me, it was early. I'd say our ages ranged from ~28-55. We first sat on the floor and got a short talking to, then moved over to watch a video--that didn't work. So that will be Wednesday.

Then we went over to the rowing machines, or "erg" as one is called. I think it is short for ergometer, but I think it's the noise I made. Not that it is difficult (at least not when you are going that goddamn slow!), but you take apart everything about the stroke, and learn it one piece at a time. And then you put it together. Then you forget it again. It's like choreography--and I'm no good at dancing.

We started with the arms, just getting used to the pull back and forward motion. Your hands should basically be at the top of your ribs--under your breasts, before the bellybutton. Then back--you should sit up straight, with maybe a 10% lean back as you,...pull? (I can't remember, I just had to click away from screen and then I came back here and forgot.) Then the legs, which is where you want most of the weight/strength/power.

On the way in, it's legs, back, arms; on the way out, where you power, is arms, back, legs.

Wait.

I think.

See what I mean? It's like overanalyzing a book in English class--you delve so far in and get metaphors so far up your own ass that you're like, wait, what am I reading?

One way is arms, back, legs; the other is legs, back arms. I just can't remember which now. Am I stupid? One oar short of a full boat? Dumb as a box of rocks?

Okay, on the way in, it's arms, back, legs; then as you stroke out (again, forget the terms), it's legs, back, arms. At least the back stays the middle child no matter what.

Juanita! That was the woman's name--not the instructor, but the club member that came out to help. I remember this because I think she made me do something wrong when I was on the erg--I thought I was doing great, was a natural...and then she spent a lot of time with me because--surprise!--I am not a natural at something that requires remembering what parts to move and when. But when she was trying to get me to move my arms independently of my back, I think she pushed my back forward. I don't know. maybe it was me and not her, maybe I shouldn't blame, maybe I really do suck.

Legs, back, arms, arms, back, legs. Right?

It got better when we went into the water. But first, we had to get the boats into the water.

And that was hard. And kind of unwieldy.

When I'm running by the Hawthorne bridge, I watch for the folks bringing in the boats to or from the river. I gotta tell you, they look light. I mean, really; they are narrow and thin, right? And they float. So they should be like styrofoam, right?

No! The boat we took out--granted it was like an 8 or 10-person shell (shell? I think that's the right word) and it weighed like 250 lbs. Okay, maybe that's like the size of a large man and there were 11 of us , but still. That is heavy when you have ~25-30 lbs in your palms flipping this thing overhead and when you are holding it in a manner that is not consistent with any weightlifting you have ever done.

So we maneuver it out of the boathouse and down to the dock. And it was cold. I had a long sleeve shirt and shorts on, because I planned to go for a run after class. I won't do that again. The days I row are the days I don't run, or at least not that morning; the clothes I'd wear for running are not the ones I'll wear for rowing. Especially the shoes; my running shoes don't really fit in the boat, and I don't want to risk ruining them or my orthotics. So crappy stuff from now on.

Besides, the goose shit abounded.

I've got to wrap this up in a few mins because I'm going for a coffee with a colleague momentarily.

Anyway, we got in the boat and tried making some strokes with the oars, making, like, small rectangles with the strokes and the oars. We did arms and back but not legs. I'm happy to say that felt a lot better than the erg. It was actually fun. It gave me confidence that maybe I could do it. Feeling the oar in the water and the pull of smoothness...that was kinda nice.

Of course we didn't leave the dock.

Interested to see how Wed. will go.