It’s September. And I haven’t posted since January. I think this means I haven’t spent enough time outside my comfort zone. Oh, I have been racing, and training, and rowing in different places, but it’s not entirely new anymore. I’m not scared out of my mind. Or I wasn’t till now.
Here’s a summary of things to date:
7 regattas
28 events
11 top 3 finishes:
5 first places (1x: 2; 2x: 1; 4x: 2)
1 second place (1x)
5 third places (1x: 1; 2x: 1; 4x: 2; 4+:1)
These were all 1,000m sprint races. At one of them, my friend, Trista Becker from Sammamish, and I were the only USA entries! All but two (Burnaby Lake and Grand Rapids) were at venues I have raced at before. So there were new things, and fun things, but nothing that stretched the limits of my comfort zone.
Well, except maybe rowing with whales about 6 different times this spring. Once with 9 whales in the Cove (2 grays, 7 orcas in two different pods); Easter morning with 3 grays feeding in my traffic pattern – they drove me off the water.
Welcome to Fall 2019. Head racing season. It’s time to spread my wings and do head races in Night Fury (my Fluidesign 1x). Am I concerned about finishing the distance? No. Maybe concerned about finishing at the speed with which I want to finish. Am I afraid to come in last? No. With every new thing I accept that I’m learning and coming in last is part of the experience. Are these new waters? One of them is… Deep Cove Lake in Vancouver. The rest I have rowed either in a single or raced in an 8 (Lake Samish). So what gives? What am I uncomfortable about?
Weather. Pure and simple. Fall weather can be wildly changeable. Calm and warm-ish; or windy and cold (with or without rain). Dicey conditions in my single are what makes me shiver in trepidation. I have practiced in chop, been caught on the Cove when the wind came up and the fog rolled in. I have rowed from Pocock in less than wonderful conditions. It’s the uncertainty of what the day will bring that gives me pause. So to try and calm myself I’ve made myself (and my friends and family) the promise that if conditions don’t look rowable FOR ME, then I will not launch. Others will launch that may have more experience, or have less fear. I need to be honest with my capabilities and experience and not put myself into a situation where I do not feel safe. OK, so that means I might wimp out. Is it in my head?
As a single sculler, with no teammates to help stabilize the boat, or cox to steer, or coach to tell us everything’s fine, how do I determine for myself when it’s safe; when I am maybe scared, but I’m capable and can handle it; and when wimping out is just simply the smartest thing to do, and I should be proud of myself for making that call.
So yeah, it’s in my head. Every single day. All day. As before my first sprint race in my single at Lake Stevens in April 2018, I will be fighting fear until I get back to the dock after Row for the Cure and my first “single” head race is complete.
How do you handle such situations? Do you dwell on it? Do you try not to think about it? Do you analyze every possible weather situation that could come up and lay out a plan?
Oh, and then there’s that little thing about navigating the course. Passing buoys on the correct side, missing other boats, avoiding sand bars, piers, barges, bridges… The map is printed out. Being studied. Past rows on the course run over and over. A friend has offered to take me on the course the day before and give me a few navigational tips.
So here I am – stepping outside my comfort zone again. Come join me. For real, it makes you feel alive. Keep pushing your boundaries; you don’t know your limits until you give them a shove and see if they will move.
