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!