~ Coach’s Log ~ A Day to Remember ~ July 28, 2018 ~
On August 20, 2017 my six years of coxing paid off.
As the fall semester of my senior year approaches I've been taking time to both reflect on where I came from and ponder my future. Rowing has been my life for so long now and will hopefully continue that way. However, I can't just turn a blind eye to reality. Once I graduate I'll leave this team. I don't know if there will be any bodies of water nearby wherever I end up. I don't know if there will be any rowers that need a coxswain.
Regardless, worrying about the future won't do me any good. I'm going to do my best no matter where I go. But as I prepare to enter my last year, I want to remember the day that years of hard work finally paid off. It will be fuel to remind me that eventually, something great will happen. And in the future, when i'm old and have probably outgrown my interest in the sport; I want to look back at this and see how much i've grown from even today.
I would like to share the story of how I became a national champion cox.
August 19, 2017 I drove to Oak Ridge, TN from my apartment in Auburn, AL. When the Little Ladies were initially planning the trip and asking my help Auburn's school calendar said that the 18th was the day classes would start. I thought it was odd--the 18th was a Friday--but accepted it and decided to drive up the next day. It wasn't until several weeks later that it was updated to the following Monday but my word had already been given. Because of this, I would miss the first event the Little Ladies would take part in; racing in the lightweight category. I made the 5 hour drive in the morning while the day was still cool and Atlanta traffic would be diminished.
I was given an address for a home resting along the edge of a lake. It felt odd and intimidating to enter with its manicured lawn and tall doorway. I had learned just before leaving Auburn that the owner of the home was named Gail; the previous coxswain for the Little Ladies and my predecessor. I was nervous--how would I compare to their original coxswain? Someone with that many years of coxing under their belt felt so untouchable next to the six years I had at the time.
I had nothing to worry about, but the niggling anxiety was there for most of the trip. The Little Ladies explained how much they enjoyed my coxing to Gail even though they still missed her. My skills may have been enough to adequately follow hers; but clearly I did not have the same bond that could only be made through many years of working together.
The afternoon was calm. Gail and her husband were not at home for a good period of time; leaving us to our devices. The ladies had raced the day before but Saturday was a free day for them. They pulled out paddle boards and kayaks that Gail had given permission to use and relaxed on the water. There was a single available too and I rowed it for the second time ever. The masters dotted on me to make sure that I got on and off the small dock alright and gave me pointers. Warmth from the afternoon sun beat down, but the coolness of the lake and a gentle breeze made for a pleasant day.
Dinnertime was different from the ladies' typical meal. As a group of retired women with a very well-put-together life of athletics meals were exceedingly healthy. Dinner with them typically consisted of lots of vegetables with pasta or on a sandwich. However, one of them was craving pizza. We ordered some; but the charge to her card was initially declined because she hadn't bought pizza in over a year! Nevertheless, our pre-race dinner was a cheesy mess.
Kathy cornered me that evening. She had tagged along to cox the ladies that Friday for the race I had missed. I felt bad that I was taking the boat from her; but there wasn't much that we could change.
2017, I learned later on, was the tenth year that the Little Ladies had competed at Master's Nationals. Each year they raced under the openweight F class category, but for a few years had added on another race as lightweight. Kathy coxed them for their lightweight 4+ and had come in second. The ladies appeared happy, but I felt a dissatisfaction from them. The same could be true for Kathy, but she cornered me with the feeling of guilt or regret.
The juniors coach seemed to be on the verge of tears as she told me about their race. It went well; but she had tapped the buoy line for a few strokes. Kathy seemed to be disappointed in herself, but didn't talk about it beyond mentioning the buoys.
What hit me was the way she spoke to me. She told me that they could do it--the Little Ladies could win. I believed her; of course I did. I had the feeling that something good was going to happen for weeks. Kathy said that she was behind me, that the whole of the master's team was behind us. I didn't realize what the impact of these words would be until the next day.
I tried to sleep on the couch. Caught between both my extremely light sleeping and my excitement for race day I got a few hours of shuteye. Before I knew it, it was time.
Race day began early, as it always does. I spend the first part of the day going between chugging water and shoving food down my throat to make up the few pounds I needed for weigh-ins. It was another first--I made weight for the first time ever. I didn't need to carry anything extra in the boat and the relief was amazing.
Our race was in the afternoon. Once I had the appropriate wrist bands I was free to wander. Friends from the master's team were there and I mingled for a bit before buying a shirt. Regatta merch is definitely a perk of larger competitions.
"First call, event #158--Women's Club F-J 4+" was our signal to move.
There's something different about leading your boat around at regattas versus at home. Something in the air tells you to stand up straighter, yell louder. Make sure everyone knows you're there. It's the feeling of being in control when everything around you is chaos. There's no words to describe the emotion when shouting orders are everywhere but your boat will react to your voice alone.
We made it to the warm up area without trouble. The ladies were ready; just needed a little more time to prepare. We took off with an extended warm up: pick drill by pairs, then a few minutes rowing all four, followed by a series of power tens and starts.
it was during our paddle up to the staging area that Kathy's words from the day before came back. The start was less than fifteen minutes away and I felt the support of the people cheering for us. I had a feeling in my gut that the constant push from our team, families, and friends would serve us well that day.
Despite being a coxswain, I don't consider myself very good at inspiring people. The speeches coaches can give to light the fire for the team is something I envy. But there wasn't a speech needed. The Little Ladies knew what needed to happen. I knew what I needed to say.
"Lane 1: Three Rivers B, Lane 2: CRI B..."
I shifted our point just slightly. Diane in three seat would push the boat over too far if my boat was pointed perfectly straight. 1000 meters were ready for us.
"Lane 6: Rocket City. Attention--"
I thought of their only request for me:
Make us win.
At 1:20 pm, the flag dropped.
I called the start as we did every practice. Quick, Quick, Quick, then push the boat for ten. Lengthen out and check our progress. 100 meters behind us. 900 meters perfectly straight before us. I glanced to the left--
--To see no one ahead of us.
Bow balls even to where I lay. Coxswains peaking over and screaming. 250 meters down before I even realized it.
The competition was falling behind at 300 meters in. I cheered, encouraged, and demanded we keep going. The lead felt good, but I was worried for a fly-and-die outcome. Lanes 2 and 3 were still too close for comfort.
500 in. Halfway I called our power ten for the midsprint. The two others stayed close by, but with bow balls even to our two seat. It was here that I decided that we wouldn't need the extra just-in-case tens my boat gave me permission to call.
250 meters to go. Less than a minute left of racing. I heard the other coxswains call the start to their sprint. We held. We knew our race plan; hearing the other boats wouldn't make us waver. I counted ten strokes after we crossed 250.
Lanes 2 and 3 were on our tail. I could see them in my periphery but I didn't dare turning my head to look. Suddenly, there was 150 to go.
"Last 20!" I shouted out. "Last 20 strokes!"
The pace went up; stroke style shifted to something faster and aggressive. There was 100 meters to go and I was yelling anything and everything I could think of. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the others in the same position behind us. We've got it. I thought. Its dangerous to think you've won, but my gut told me that this was our day.
The horn beeped. The boat kept going for a few strokes with power even with my commands to paddle. Two more honks sounded closely after.
"Was that us?" One of them asked through their panting. They were confused at where we placed.
"Guys I think we got first," I told them after a second. I was in shock. There was no way we won, I thought.
The masters didn't seem to believe me. The two beeps after we finished made them think that we were one of them. They made me doubt a little before I really thought about it.
"No, those two boats over there were closer together than we were to either of them. They have to be the two behind us."
And then it hit them. We had done it. We had really done it.
As the officials came over to see our wristbands there was simultaneously a shocked silence and cheering. We went back to the dock on cloud 9.
Once the boat was safe on land we headed to the awards. Medals were handed out proudly by my two seat Peggy. The shocker was the grand trophy we were given. Large and heavy, we paraded it over to a stand to do pictures. I was given the honor of holding it up and boy was I glowing with happiness.
The boat immediately went to the beer tent that's a staple at master's events. I was still only 20 at the time and needed to drive back for class the next day so I bid them goodbye then. I went back to Auburn proudly with the heaviest gold medal I have ever received.
It was much later that I learned about the boat's history. That summer I had jumped in the boat and coxed it with what I had and going off of just my experience. Knowing about their past I feel will help me in the future.
The Little Ladies all started as coxswains, that much I knew. With over 20 years of experience a piece, they coxed many boats for the master's program. But over ten years ago they decided to row together. They rowed with the same people they do now, minus their change of coxswain. In 2007 they went to nationals for the first time. Of the ten years they competed, they have never gotten first. After racing in openweight for some time, they added lightweight to race with people more their size. They never won in that either. But 2017 was the year they got a gold medal. Not only was it their first win, but it was in the openweight category--one that they didn't feel they matched as well.
It was a day that paid off their hard work more than mine. I was just along for the ride.
I'm hopeful for our future. I won't be able to cox them for much longer, but I think it'll be a good time. The have invited me to cox them at the FISA World Master's Championship in Sarasota this September and I have excitedly accepted.
I do have a worry about them. The four of them are getting older, and its starting to show. After nationals last year, one of them was diagnosed with cancer. She has recovered (I don't know the details, I'm not willing to ask), but I know her stamina has taken a hit. I hope that she doesn't push herself too far in trying to regain it.
These women are strong and I will remember them as such, even when I move on to new things. Thank you; Elysa, Diane, Betsey, and Peggy. Thank you for teaching me even when I thought I knew it all and letting me tag along when I wasn't all that useful.
If you would like to watch our race, follow this link to USRowing's archived stream for Sunday's races. Our race starts at the 33:22 mark!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R0n0V4q4dic&t=2205s