In Which Our Heroine Frets Her Way Through Recoverystrong>
This morning when I bicycled to work, it was snowing. That's even earlier this year than usual. But I guess it is officially a harbinger of winter, and with winter starts (but only starts) to spell the end of on water rowing practice. We've really ended it due to the fact that racing season is over and we need a bit of time to heal. Heal from broken noses, two cracked ribs, and an infected hand. But I progress too quickly. You know about the broken nose already, let me go on to the ribs.

Our first race of the season was the Head of the Textile, which we were looking forward to with great enthusiasm. Then we found out that we had registered for the Open Double rather than the Club Double. This was because we hadn't realized there was a club double, and as such we didn't bother to sign up for it. There were four boats in the Open - ours and three others. The first one ran us over 20 strokes from the start. When I say ran us over, I mean what I say - their bow overlapped our stern by at least 8 inches. This is despite us being on the bouy line with no where to move but in their way. Not that it mattered - they never looked over. We filed a protest at the end of the race, and were vindicated, but I have to say it threw us off our stride rather. But we picked it up and moved on, with the offending boat ahead of us. Then we went to pass the boat that had started ahead of us. This proved to be tricky. Not because they were fast - they were slower than molasses in January, but rather because they couldn't steer to save their lives. Or, as it turned out, my ribs. Their course was roughly that of the Super G slalom. And they took a stem Christie turn just as we were passing them, and rammed us from the starboard side. Miraculously, they didn't break our oar, but they did catch my oar and move it with their boat, slamming it into my chest with enough force that the handle edge cracked two of my ribs. We kept going. I mean, we had to row back to the finish line anyway to land, and I didn't realize that the pain was just going to get worse. But it did. The pain, that is. The water conditions also got progressively worse as well. And the only other boat in our race was eventually going to pass us as they were fast, but they couldn't steer well enough to stay on the course OR decide which side to pass us on either. It was exceptionally nerve wracking - neither of us wanted to get hit again. First they were on port side, then starboard side, the port side again (outside the bouys), then back on the course on starboard side. Finally, they pushed us over to the bouys and kept on trying to push us, so I told them to move over. They told us to move over. I lost my temper as I just wasn't going to be rammed again. "YOU HAVE TO MOVE TO THE CENTER LINE!" I screamed. But I have to say that I also put three (possibly more) strong explitives into that rather short sentence. It worked to get them to move over, but I have to say I was ashamed of myself. Panic is never pretty. The ribs, it turns out, were cracked. They hurt, but I'll heal.

Somehow, we had to regroup for the next race, which was the next Sunday in Connecticut. Aptly, it was named Head of the Connecticut. I don't think either Lizzie or I had the confidence we could pull it together after such a disasterous Textile. And Head Conn is not my favorite race in the world - it is an extra half mile on the other races and the course is a bit tricky. But I have come to Jesus and seen the light that is the joy of the Head of the Connecticut regatta. Lizzie steered a great race, and we rowed pretty well for us. It was truly a fun experience. A bit amazing in that in my view from the stern, I watched six boats after us go off the course severely and in fact they had to be rallied back on the course by a marshall and YET no bouy penalties were awarded. Shocking, and it would have moved us up in the standings. But never mind. We still had fun, and seeing as it rained so hard we collected an inch of water in our boat during the race, that is an amazing feat in and of itself.

Which brings us up to the Head of the Charles. But I have other work to do right now, chickadees, so I will leave that til later.
Love,
Anna the Slowly Returning