So what's next?

Holy crap our dream came true!! Now what?
(Photo: Rafael Veve)

So, we're back from Hong Kong, our dream of becoming world champions firmly realized. What's next? Sitting on our laurels reveling in the bliss of it and cashing in on our fame and fortune? HELL NO. ('Cause there actually isn't a whole lot of fame and certainly no fortune!) We're back to the grind, hitting the gym and the water with gusto - more so than ever perhaps. We have Canadian Nationals coming up this weekend, and are paddling on TWO teams - our beloved womens and a new mixed team, which is super exciting. It's a whole different vibe, which brings with it new challenges, opportunities and, yes, even new dreams. Dreams which include paddling for Team USA in Hungary next year. So it's time to buckle down and form a new strategy. One which includes regular OC1 time, because team selections are based heavily on time trials in an OC1... which becomes a bit of a challenge when you don't have a (or access to) an OC1. Looks like we're gonna have to find ourselves a couple in order to train ourselves for this element of our journey - but that's no easy feat when they run close to $4k a-piece! Who knew this sport was gonna be so expensive? Urgh. Bake sale anyone?

That aside, it's time to get back to training. So yesterday G and I hit the gym for our first time together since we got back. And right away things went back to their usual hilarious stupidity. 

"OK, bench press is next. So for 12 reps...how much weight do you want?"

"Well, I want 50% of my body weight. So that's....???" G calculated in her head, her mouth turning up at the corners along with her eyebrows as she pondered the problem. "OK, well, let's round up to 80. And for you.... 90."

Should be simple enough, right?

I put two 25lb plates on. G looks at me like I am completely retarded.

"Umm... that's 95. Not 80."

"Oh. Duh. Well, it seems so puny. OK, so what do you want?" I take them off, and add two 10lb plates to each side instead. G goes over to the bar, touches it, then points to each plate ... 

"45, 55, 65, 75, 85.. no, still too much."

"Glargh!" OK off with two of the 10lb-ers and on with 5lb-ers instead. 

"OK, let me see here,"G's brow is furrowed in concentration again. "45, 55, 65, 70, 75. Now it's not enough. And she adds two more 5lb-ers. "No wait, that's not right either is it?" Duh, now we're back to 85. Different plate combinations, same frigging result. Of course by now we're cracking up so much our faces are red and our eyes are little slits with tears starting to squeeze through. 

"OK, little ones!" We take off the two 5lb-ers and replace them with two 2.5lb-ers. 

"45, 55, 65, 70, 75, and five... yeah, 80!" Hooray, only took us ten minutes to figure it all out. She pushes her 12 reps and then it's my turn. Mindlessly I pick up two 2.5lb-ers and them on. She looks at the bar, ponders, looks at me, looks at the bar again.

"Yeah... no... yeah... oh, no! That's only 85." Well shit already! Off come the little plates and on with two 5lb-ers. "Yeah, ten pounds. Right?" And we go through the whole calculation again. 

"45, 55, 65...."

We might be World Champions but we're still total crap at addition and subtraction! I hope nobody was looking!

Last day of racing - could we do it again??

Sunday July 8 - last day of the championships and our attempt at the 500m

Photo doesn't do it justice, but this was the golden-ness
we woke up to that final morning of racing.

Drummer girl and I woke up to an incredible sky. At 5:30 or so (yes in the morning), there was a distinct golden haze to our room. Mostly the sky wrapped around our corner windows was dark, but above the building to the left of our hotel room was a billowy white cloud backlit by bright gold.

"I like it," I said squinting and stumbling groggily to the bathroom. It's gonna be a golden day!" 

J giggled. "I like your morning comments!"

It was the last day of racing and our toughest distance was on tap first thing. Three back-to-back 500s. We've historically had trouble with that last half...we can kill the start, bang out the first 250-300m, but lose ground on the last 200. This was not going to be easy. But after medaling in every other category so far, I wanted this one even more. We all did. We needed a clean sweep.

"We've trained for this," Coach said. "We've done this back-to-back-to-back in practice too. We are the strongest team here. Be aggressive. Kill it. Go do this." Just as with the other races, as soon as we hit the marshaling area, our faces turned to stone. Complete focus. No more talking, no joking around, no interaction with anyone else. Game faces on. But with even more grit and determination than before. This was it. Our last chance. Our last day. It was all or nothing.

We had lane 7... a great lane! This was a good sign. Relatively calm water. Good for us, good for our steer M, who had been sucked all over that insane course the day prior with the Senior B mixed boat. She had this we told her. No problem. But did I? Did I have the guts for this one?

Our start wasn't our best, our pace a little fast...and we crossed the line second, with a time of 2:09.981. Shit. I immediately regretted the second boiled egg and croissant I'd had at breakfast. I felt sick to my stomach. 

We got off the boat and huddled with coach. He told us what we needed to do. "This is your last race. There is no third race. Don't save anything. Go out there, and effing hammer it." Ok, right. Got it.

I'll say one thing for our team. We're damn good at following instructions. What coach tells us to do, we bloody-well execute. We tore out of the start gate like rabid dogs. Or, as G likes to call it, huskies unleashed. Coach told us to be fierce, and fierce we were. On the transition, we got even fiercer. The focus, power and pure grit were tangible in the air above and around us. That mist you see on the start with really good teams (and I am so happy to be able to say WE ARE A REALLY GOOD TEAM!) stayed with us down that course. In a way it felt easier than the first race. We were so connected, so relaxed in the air, snapping our exits... it all just came together. And when J called the finish... man, we just took off. For each stroke of each series in that finish we surged forward. You know those football or hockey movies when the underdog comes through at the end and just nails it? Ha, we were the movie this time. As with the previous races, the second heat times were a bit slower. But we beat team #2 by almost a full second and-a-half. May not seem like much.. but trust me, it's pretty huge. 

"One more," we said to each other, as we docked the boat and herded ourselves back up the ramp toward our customary huddle with our coach. "One more." Wow. Ok. Focus.

This one's for our families, friends and cheerleaders.
And to those naysayers who said we were nuts and
didn't think we would stick with it- thppppt!
What use is a dream if you don't reach for it?

But when we got back to base, coach was grinning at us like a crazy person. "That WAS your last race, you all didn't believe me but that was it. They're behind, so they've eliminated the third heats for everyone. That was it ladies."

We were stunned. And then he continued. He got emotional. He choked on his words. I was too stunned to remember anything but his last words. "That was dragon boat ART."

Even more stunning was that the dragon boat art we'd pulled off had gained us our third medal of the competition, in that coveted gold color! Some girls screamed, others cried. Me, I don't know where it came from but I went super quiet. Suddenly the whole thing just enveloped me and washed over me. This was it. Done. Over. No more going out in the boats, dancing with the waves, finding the connection. This was the culmination of two years of dreaming, of training, of praying, of pain, anguish, excitement, fit tests, training camps, dinners without us for our families... This was it. I felt drained, out of breath, feint. Give me a moment.. the feeling is coming back...

Mission Accomplished - we are WORLD champions

Pinch me. It still doesn't seem real. But I'm getting ahead of myself. (Actually, I'm woefully behind. My last post was about the pre-race. I've written about the 2000m - our first race and first medal of the championships. But I have written zero about our other two distances - the 200m and the 500m. Shame on me! Correcting that right now.)

Friday July 6 - the 200m
This is your race, coach told us. This is what we've been training for. We've done this back-to-back-to-back in practice. You can do this. Go get it!
We walked into the marshaling area confident, but not cocky. Cocky can mean the tiniest difference between a win and an almost win (which is, simply, a big fat loss). Cocky is no good. But confident - that's critical. We have the muscle. We have the endurance. We have to have the mind too.

In the first heat, we screamed down the course in 53.788 seconds. Pretty dang astounding considering the waves, the current, the crooked course, the lanes that narrowed and widened indiscriminately, and the fact that nobody could really tell where exactly the finish line actually was. No matter. We crossed that line, wherever it was, first. We were elated!

Then our captain spoke.
"We've won NOTHING yet ladies. We have two more races to go. Enjoy this, but realize nothing is decided yet."
Right. Knock it off. Forget it. Focus on the next heat. We circled back to the docks, brought in our boat, disembarked, went to huddle with our coach and get our instructions. Then it was right back to marshaling for heat #2.

Times were a little slower for all teams in this second heat, the wind and waves had picked up some, but we still managed to pull off the start and over the finish line ahead of the others. 54.665 was enough to give us a solid shot for the gold. It would all be up to the last race.

We did the little dance again - bring it back to the docks, disembark, analysis and pep talk, marshal, into the boat, out to the start line practicing our first 5, then 10 then 15 strokes on the way. Then it was time to go. This was it, the deciding race. More waves, more wind... heh, bring it on we all said!

I'll cut straight to the point. (Mostly because I don't really remember the race, other than it felt &$(%(!!! amazing. So strong, so powerful, so connected. We gave it EVERYTHING. That boat fair flew as far as I was concerned. And the clock confirmed it. 56.837. First again. Would it be enough for the gold?? It seemed like we waited for the official results to come out for hours. And then, suddenly, quietly, they were there. Gold. Gold. Gold. HOLY MOTHER WE HAD TAKEN THE GOLD!! I got goosebumps all over my body and cried like a baby.

When we got to the podium, and saw who would be presenting us with our medals - the tears started to flow in earnest. From the whole team. It was N - husband, now widower, of our dear departed matriarch, S. We'd lost her just before this trip, and it was so very fitting, and so incredibly special, that he be the one to place these beautiful medals around our necks.

The teams on the podium with us thought we were an incredibly emotional bunch of girls. "Wow, is this such a surprise?" we were asked. "Did you not think you could win?" "No no, it's not that," we explained. And when we told them the story, they were all crying too. These were tears of joy, of sadness, of loss, of sympathy, of empathy, of gratitude, of victory. Oh sweet victory!

Golden, world-championship smiles! Holy crap - we did it!
Photo: Eric Bindman

Pre-race success

OMG...i forgot to post about a major event! So on Monday instead of a practice we raced in the Hong Kong Dragon Boat Carnival...the waves, the water were insane. 


We raced 500m and walked out with a bronze medal and a cool dragon trophy :) Great start to our time here...!

2000m race...done!

2nd turn, about to pass a boat :) Photo: Eric Bindman

Went down to the 2000m course early with my roomie (also our badass drummer) to check out the water, wind, course anomalies, etc. Good thing we did cuz things were craaaazeeee down there. A starting setup like we'd never seen (running start til you hit a designated "start" buoy which began your clock); last minute course adjustments at the turn WHILE boats were getting the air horn to go; and other little things that made us go "hmmmm" and make mad notes in our heads. This was gonna be one interesting and exciting race. We couldn't wait to get out there.

We watched a few races and headed back to our room to change, chill, and get our heads in the zone. At 11:30 we met up with the rest of the team in the hotel lobby. The mood was quiet, somber (or, if u talk to R, "funeral-like"). The girls were focused, visualizing the race, centralizing their energy into one spot and one spot only: the boat. We walked together to the course...a big red and black (our team colors) snake of women and paddles. None of us spoke...not even to the guy trying to hawk his tailoring services to us as we passed. (Really? He thought we would engage NOW?)

Just before we marshalled, coach pulled me and J (drummer) aside. "Be fearless," he told us. "And hug those buoys L." OK i thought. Take no prisoners and don't steer wide. Got it.

We got in the boat. Coach yelled at me from the dock. "Give that oar a good shake! Make sure it's not loose." I shook it...the u-bolt looked wobbly. I got on my knees and stuck my head out over the water, under the steering arm. There was no nut on the second bolt leg, and the one that WAS on the first, was very loose. I hand tightened it and crossed my fingers. One of the dock guys held out a flimsy, fraying, plastic rope to me..."do you know how to make a loop and tie it down?" he asked. Fuck no I thought as I shook my head at him. "Never mind then," he said. "Just go." Comforting. But whatever. Bring it on right?

We backed out and headed down the course to the start line. I felt relaxed. Excited. Ready. We had so many people rooting for us, watching us - here and back home - we would not disappoint them or ourselves. "This is OUR race," J yelled at us from the drum seat. This tiny woman sounded like she was ten feet tall. Fearsome AND fearless.

The previous night, our captain had challenged us all to find and fight for the extra inch. An inch can be the difference between winning and losing. We were NOT here to lose. We were going to be the 7th boat out of the start; we would have waves and wash; I had a short, bendy oar in that wobbly U-bolt. I grinned and looked around me. Touched the little gold maple leaf at my neck, thought of my guy back home, and looked at the Hong Kong skyline around me. The beauty of this sport is that you never know what you're going to get. Not weather, not water, not equipment, nothing. The only constant is you and how you approach the challenge. Once you step onto to dock and get in the boat, it becomes a mental game. All the tips and help and coaching were over. It was up to me now. I had this. Period.

Out of the start the boat did not respond well, and I had to fight to get it on track down the lane. In case you don't know, the boats used here are not the same make we train in, their interior dimensions are different, and the steer's platform is convex. Where i'm used to planting my feet solidly flat, and with ample room to maneuver, here i was squished and unbalanced as hell. As we approached the first turn i hugged the buoy tight, then went a tad wide on the others. Shit. On the second turn, I went in tight again...and found myself with a choice. Sit my butt down and stay in the boat, or keep standing and risk a swim. I sat my rump down and cranked the oar hard. It should have been easy, the turns were pretty wide, but that water was heavy and the boat was jumping. And the oar was flexing. Urgh!

Thankfully, it worked out. J called for a pickup out of the turn and we surged forward. Come to find out later that she was shitting her pants, willing me to stand back up so she could call that pickup. Little did she know that I was well aware that my weight on the back of the boat needed to be shifted forward, but it was so unsteady back there it took me several attempts to get back to my feet. I'd seen a few steers slip and drummers fall off...I certainly didn't want to be the next swimmer in Victoria Harbor!

The third turn was the same thing. Only it took me longer to get back on my feet. And when I finally managed it...J and I just let loose. "Reach! Fight for that inch!" I screamed. Between us, we yelled the entire last 500 meters. "Do NOT give in!" I challenged the girls in my back eight. I can't even remember what J was yelling up front but we worked together, taking turns yelling for more digging, more power, more push.

And push it we did. All the way down The line. At the last 200m J called for a finish. It would be the longest finish ever. It was brutal, and totally mental. "Empty the tank! Everything you have, in 3, 2, 1', GO!"

We returned to the dock exhausted, ready to pass out. Coach was beaming. "I don't think you could have given any more out there," he said. "And L...you nearly gave me a heart attack on those turns. I know I said make them tight, but...." his voice just trailed off as he shook his head at me, grinning in disbelief still. (Should I tell him I couldn't actually see those last buoys on any of the turns? That I was aiming for where I thought they were and praying that I would be on the right side of them? And that each time I saw that I was, I was fist pumping (mentally) with joy?)

And what did the officials think of our performance? Or, realistically, the clock? It took forever to get the results and the times back...but when they did we all screamed and jumped like tweens with Bieber-fever. Silver. Holy shit, we were going to the podium on our first day of worlds. Bang bang bang!