In Which Our Heroine Loses Her Underpinnings
Well, Team Milhouse is back at it. Miles rowed today, 7. Money raised today in pledges: $150. Money received today in hand: $100. We've been on and off all week for a couple of reasons. First is my eye infection. Now, this was last week when I had this eye infection, or more accurately irritation (despite the sheer excitement of all the doctor's who hoped I had a resurgence of the exotic eye disease I obtained in Mongolia and Finland, it ws proved to be an irritation from my contact lens.) but the fall out is this week if I raise my blood pressure enough through exercising, and getting my pulse rate up, I am rewarded with a pain that feels as though someone has stabbed me through the eye. Now. for stroking the double, you don't really need your eyes, but the lack of pain does help. And apparently screaming "Ah! My eye! My eye! I'm blind! Aieeeeeeeeee!" can be distracting to one's doubles partner. But we brought the pace (and consequently my blood pressure) down and did a skill and drill. Of course, we really don't need to be doing skill and drill, we need to be doing cardio stamina steady state. But we do what we can do. Today, we went out to do more steady state, and while the first half really bit, the second half was better. But it was most notably better because Liz coxed me through it. She had to do so, poor thing, as I could not get my focus through on anything. I have been having insomnia the last couple of nights, and so was tired, but frankly that's a pathetic excuse. As much as I sucked this morning, she coxed me though and I improved. I think this is also important for another reason. It's a bit of a shift tactics wise. A further improvement in dynamic. See, at the start of the season, even though I was in stroke seat, I called a lot of the shots. Too many, frankly, for a stroke seat, who isn't supposed to be calling ANY of the shots really. My job is to set the pace (bringing it up or down as directed by the bow seat), and to be a machine, focused on nothing other than rowing strongly and cleanly through the water. Block out all else, nothing but the sculling, and certainly not calling the shots. But at the beginning of the season, I was the one with the experience a) sculling, and b) calling the shots from the bow of the double. So I told Liz what I knew, and she started taking it on. She's done well, very well, and very quickly, but I think there's been a natural learning curve for her. Seeing as she has had to learn to steer, arches of bridges, etc motivating me, or even just getting into the habit of directing me was just not high on the priority list of things she had to learn. But now she's taken on that challenge as well, starting as of today did very well. We just took "tens." 10 strokes for sitting up at the finish, 10 strokes for a slow recovery, 10 for this, 10 for that, 10 for a good push on the drive. It worked, and even more importantly my pulse rate was up and in the target rate for a new record (well, for me) of 19 minutes. A seven minute improvement on yesterday! Gooooooooooooooooo heart rate!

We'd switched practice today to the morning at the last minute last night. My doctor's appointment was moved to five in the afternoon, and thunderstorms were predicted for early evening. Again. Really wanting to row, and not being able to row in the lightning, this was completely the right decision. But again, the insomnia. And the last minute rearrangement of time. And I had to be at work at 8:30, preferably not all sweaty from rowing. Work was in Harvard Square, so Liz woudl drop me off at CBC, where I could shower and change and then hop to work. Being cunning, I put my change of clothes, some shampoo and things in a bag by the door so I wouldnt' forget it. So what did I forget to include? Undergarments, top and bottom. It was a long day with my arms securely folded across my chest. You know you're going to have a bad day when you haven't managed to get dressed for work, and you're already there. Could I take off my many layers today? That would be no.
Love,
Anne the unsupportive