Thursday, March 20, 2003

In Which Our Heroine Races A Bus
Well, this is it. Supposedly the deadline has come and gone, and I guess we're at war. I don't officially know, as I am hiding from the news. Yesterday, under the strains of war impending, I got on my bike can cycled to practice. First time on the bike in ages, and was totally loving it until I suddenly had flashbacks to cycling home from practice after watching the Twin Towers fall while we were in the boathouse on 9/11. High anxiety all day - I think it came through in the e-mails I was sending. I felt almost compelled to e-mail my English friends to declare that I hadn't voted for Bush, and I thought the war was a bad idea. My friend Neil returned the e-mail immediately with: send phone number, I'm calling now! He did call, mostly because we've been trying to catch up via phone for months, but I think he thought this was important. He was very reassuring, I must say. Then again, a quick phone call to my doctor for a rather minor medication adjustment also helped considerably. This is the problem with my horomones - too much adrenaline. If the fear in the whole "flee or fear" response gets going, wowsa. Still, at least knowing why it is going on means that I can do something about it, and I recognize the symptoms, so things get sorted out pretty quickly.

The most important thing about the above paragraph is the fact that I have gotten my fat butt back on the bike. Yeah! I *love* riding my bike around. Love it, love it, love it. And of course, day one is never so bad. It was day two (today) that was a bit tricky. A wee bit tired, I was. But coming home, just as I hit Harvard Square, I noticed a number 86 bus heading homewards. I wound up racing it home. I had a good distance on it until I hit Market Street, despite the fact the bus took the short Western Ave route, and I felt like having fun and taking the long bike path along the river. But when I hit Market Street, it became neck and neck. Mostly because it is a long hill, and I am pokey on the hills. Market Street is hardly an Alp. But I was still pokey. The bus, of course, had the speed advantage on me, but has to stop almost every block. So it would pass me, I would pass it, it would pass me. The race was on! I won, but I have to say only by about five feet. And I also have to say, I am one pooped girl from it. But better for it.

In all this cycling, I cannot omit the where and who I was cycling to. It was the first days of practice for my novice crew kids. I admit, I was a little nervous about it all. Teach them to row, race them in a month, and in the meantime instill boat safety skills and a phenomonal love of rowing. Could I do this? I hoped I could, but of course one never knows until you try.

Well, I have met the children and gotten started. I *love* my kids. I could not have asked for a better bunch of kids. There are only six of them, five boys and one girl, but doggone it they're wonderful. The shortest one (your ideal rower is a tall one, but it isn't mandatory) has picked up the form very quickly, and seems to already be thinking it through. He turned in the fastest erg score today. The one girl started off as rather shy, but seems to be adapting into it well, and I really truly hope she sticks with it. I think training with the boys (she can only race with them as a cox, but I can train her with them, and will try my damnest to make sure she races somehow other than as a cox, as if she puts in the effort she deserves it. And I usually get my way.) will make her a better rower faster in the end. The other boys are fun to work with, are getting the form quickly, and seem prepared to work hard. They also all seem to be built to be future Olympians. They've already adapted to the fact that they have to do 50 situps and 50 jumpies at the end of every practice. It seems to be making them tired (even the boys) but they're incorporating it well.

I told them today about how when I got this job, Mike said "I predict they will all either be future hall of famer Ivy League rowers or join the chess club." I can agree with him. And it don't look like these boys are joining the chess club! Or the girl, who I mistakenly keep calling by the name Rebecca. It is *not* her name, and it doesn't even sound like her name (which I won't post here in the interests of child privacy.).

We've had two erg days so far, with the infamous "swim test" sandwiched in between. Every year, both for their safety and our insurance, the children all dive in fully clothed, tread water for five minutes, and then (still fully clothed) have to swim four lengths of the pool. They all jumped in, and my immediate thought was "where is my camera when I really need it?" But even today they did their situps with more ease, and their jumpies seemed a little higher.

We have met the enemy, and they are the varsity. We are after their seats! We are CRLS Novice Crew!

Parent contact so far has been positive. Whew!

Well, while I'm typing this, my e-mails have blipped up to announce we are officially at war. I pray for peace, for the safety of the civilians, and that all our soldiers may come home safely to those who love them.
Love,
Anne


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