1 Rowing The wind rushing by my face, the taste of salty sweat, and the drops of water pelting my exposed skin as we tear through the river barely registers in my brain. The effort of slicing my oar nearly gracefully yet mainly just violently into the crystal surface, and me slamming my legs full force to propel the boat fowards is all that manifests my mind. I am being consumed by thoughts of pushing harder, faster, stronger, winning. I am so preoccupied with what I’m doing that I almost fall out of rhythm when I hear the coxswain’s call ahead. “POWER TEN IN TWO,” Oh god Ricky, I can’t go much harder than this. “THAT’S ONE....THAT’S TWO!” The strokes are crawling by, each one feeling like it’s taking a lifetime to complete. Six…Seven. I …show more content…
Relief. Then searing pain. My jaw is being shredded and ripped apart, it seems. The oar is suddenly coated in butter and it slips between my fingers slamming into my face. I grasp empty air and hear frantic screaming from multiple seats. The race is over. You ruined the race. It’s not over yet. In a haze I manage to pry the oar free from it’s spot trapped beneath the water, and I pick right back up where I left off. I realize that while I had lost my oar, the other two boats had pulled ahead. You ruined the race. There’s nothing left inside of me to give. You ruined the race. I pull with all the strengthstregnth I have left. You ruined the race. It still isn’t enough, and most of the boat has lost the determination they had been clinging to so desperately. You ruined the race. As we pathetically cross the finish line, DFLing and breathless, I put my head down in shame. You ruined the race. It’s over. Nothing I can do. You ruined the race. And I realize that we all make mistakes, but that doesn’t mean it feels better at all when we make one. I ruined the …show more content…
This was the toughest part, the heavy old sliding door that led out back to the lake was quite the squeaker and the danger of being caught hung over us like a skunk’s stench infused in the air. I gripped the door so tightly that my knuckles cracked and bit by bit I squealed the door open. The warm balmy air flowed into my face like a gentle wave washingwahing over me, and I could hear the faint splashing of the waves and rustling of the leaves outside. We both squeezed through the door, and I pushed it back shut, the low whine sounding more like an earthquake. Screeeeeeeee. My knuckles were white at this point, and I was barely even breathing anymore, but finally the door shut with a satisfactory click! Realizing that we had both been holding our breath, we let out synchronized sighs. Then, realizing we were safe to make noise again, we let out a burst of gleeful, childish giggles. “We’re out, come on!” Becky said, tugging me along with her as we rushed through the silky green fingers of grass, letting the cool dew coat our toes in the night
Our boat sludged onward towards the team’s tent. The only sign of life came from our stroke seat who feverishly refreshed the results.
That was something, I just feel off the boat. Lightly, I drift along water. I see a few of my brothers and sisters, but I am very far away from them.
Halloran, Jessica. "Pain and Penury - the Rower's Life." Pain and Penury. The Sydney Morning Herald, 1 Aug. 2006. Web. 10 Nov. 2013.
...re are fifty boats in our race, and we got third, now that's not too bad for a busted fin." This did not seem to help, however, as there was no apparent response. "I don't know about you all, but after this, it just makes me want to bust by butt during the off-season to come back here in the Spring and kill them all!" Slowly, but surely, everyone's heads raised. I realized that this was not the end at all. We made a pact to work our hardest to come back in the Spring and win out as much as possible. As the commotion settled, Chris quieted us down, "Okay, come on guys." He put his hand in the middle of the circle. We all followed his lead. "We will not let an unfortunate accident get in our way! We will not settle for third place!" With that we all threw our hands up into the air. I looked around and smelled the breeze. Suddenly it was the best feeling in the world.
?There are only the two of us present Captain, it also seems we have lost all of our horses too. We are destined to die here, we should try a...
Among the voices of the 85 other coxswains in our race, “Bow 69 paddle it to port, you’ll hear a horn when you're racing,” cuts clearly through. After 30 building strokes, Betsy’s voice intensifies and echoes as we pass under the first bridge. 4000 meters in, I bring up the rate and the click of the oar locks starts to quicken. We begin to fly. Through the pain we become one and find our swing.
As we started to slowly drift down the river, seemingly inch by inch, I began to have feelings of disappointment. I had been planning on a more hazardous and fast-paced ride. The water was crystal clear and almost as flat as a sheet of glass. There was only a very mild current and being as impatient as I was, it appeared to me that we weren’t even moving.
It is now 3:00 pm and I am tired of sailing but I have to keep pushing. I am having so much fun. It is now 5:00 pm and I?m rushing hoping I will get finish early I can see the land and I?m almost there. All I have to do is reach the land. I?m there finally all sweaty and wet.
Now we had started our journey discussing drifting. If you don’t remember, lets get back there. You are in a boat. That boat is on a river somewhere.
It takes my breath away as I give it my all to hurdle back to shore. We are only a few feet away from rocky hope. But from a child’s point of view, it might as well be a mile. We reach land! Legs trembling, we decide to empty our boots of the slushee-like substance piercing through our skin.