In Which Our Heroine Makes Her Way Down the Charles
Ah, the Head of the Charles Regatta (HOCR). The pinnacle of the fall racing season. Three miles upstream on the Charles, through seven bridges, nearly a full circle of turns, on a narrow course, and more than half the entrants get rejected in a lottery system as it is just so popular they can't hold all the space! And that was before they cut the entry numbers by 5% this year, as it was still getting too crowded. Lizzie and I raised a whole lot of money for charity to get an entry, and had been training for this since March. The problem was..... well, the problems werer numerous. For starters, there is no club event in the double at the Head of the Charles, which is a bit of a pain as there is a club event for every other category. You have to qualify for the club events, mostly by NOT being on the national squad for the last few years, not going to the Olympics for the last six years, not finishing in the top three spots at the Head of the Charles for a couple years, no recent Pan Am games, World championships, that sort of thing. As I said, there is no club double for some reason. So those 18 Olympians and national squad members were just lying there in bite sized chunks, waiting for us. And don't forget to go back and re-read those past few entries here. Lizzie's broken nose. My cracked ribs. And as if that wasnt' enough, two days before the race Lizzie got a nasty infection in her hand. She got IV antibiotics, but while waiting for them to clear her hand was so swollen that by the day before the race she could neither bend or straighten her fingers. I confess, I completely stressed about it. Would she be able to row? If God forbid she couldn't, should I find another partner or just pack it in? Ordinarily, I would say pack it in even though it was the Head of the Charles, as Lizzie is my doubles partner and there is a bond there that shouldn't be sold out at the first opportunity. The issue for me was the money raised. People had in effect paid for us to do this, and it seemed morally wrong to let them down, particularly as we weren't talking about a small amount of cash. But quite frankly, who really cared about rowing when we were talking about Liz's health? That was without question the overriding issue. Gack. Complete stress. Not enough medication!

Being down and being dockmaster on Saturday afternoon didn't help. It was much easier this year than in year's past. but what is it with people sometimes? Why some guy felt the need to give me an obscene gesture and get belligerent with my crew I'll never know. Threatened with a penalty, the crew he was "helping" (he wasn't even a coach - he was two seat's boyfriend, and by all accounts will never be allowed anywhere near a dock in a regatta again), made him apologize but for goodness sakes! The crew in question, it must be said, was a set of some of the nicest women I've come across and it was a horrid feeling to even have to threaten a penalty. They were stunned, and they seemed ready to club him into submission had he not agreed to apologize. Poor things. I think this sort of problem of association has happened to all of us at one point or another.

The good news is that Melbourne University Boat Club, who had been staying with us (well, two of them stayed, but most of them came in and out and it must be said were most excellent houseguests. We're looking forward to having htem back next year.) WON the Club 8+ on Saturday by a good thirteen second margin. Well done MUBC! There was much jumping around and screaming when I found this out and it really felt good. Huzzah! Huzzah! CRI men came in eighth, and within five percent of the winning time which gives them a guaranteed entry for next year. Wonderful.

Then came Sunday. Nerves a-blazing but with our race not until 2:55 in the afternoon, Team Milhouse went for breakfast with the great Osterman, who is the best person to have with you prior to a regatta, as we had discovered at the Head of the Connecticut. Part coach, part Mom, experienced rower but with out the emotional baggage that goes along with any of those things prior to a race, Kate organizes gear, pins numbers, double checks water bottles, the whole thing. Breakfast with Kate was great. Liz's hand was checking out - she'd be able to row although it was going to hurt like a mutha. You have to admire that kind of commitment. And again, as has previously been examined in these posts, you have to wonder where commintment ends and insanity begins. Although such examination could wait until later. The race was on!

Rowing down to the start started off well. We got into the groove, but then we got to the finish line where everyone was turning around to head back to Magazine Beach and the start. Chaos, and it throws you off your stride. But we took our time and made it down with just the right amount of time. Note to organizers, the new traffic pattern at the start either needs to be better signed or better patrolled or just plain re-thunk. It looked good on paper, but didn't work so well in practice. But we made it into our line up to sit and wait for not so long actually when we discovered that our bow number had fallen off. In fact, we picked it up out of the river as it drifted past us. No way to put it back on while on the river. Damn. Minute penalty, that. Nothing to do about it then, but we were off through the start. It was an, um, well, errrrr, interesting race. Yet again, another boat tried to run us over. But our now well developed sense of self-preservation led to Liz steering it just right. They couldn't master the turns, so our course was very much "here they come again!" and "look out, they're coming back!" and "once more for good measure!" Bleh. But we kept our cool. The second boat was a bit less predictable (it is somehow easier to predict the very worst steering boats - you know they're going to whap you, you just don't know when, so the tactic is always be waiting for it. So there was a little oar overlap there, but they thanked us for our good steering at the end so we feel good about that. The problem was more that we kept losing our focus. Hardly suprising. The good news is we kept getting it back. Our bad bits were truly awful, but the good bits and indeed there were some, were some of the best rowing we have done all season. We struck a really good 27 beats a minute comign out of Anderson (to loud Aussie cheers!) that was impressive. But then we nearly hit JFK street bridge, so that wasn't so impressive.

On straight time, we were amazed to find out we didn't finish last even though it was our worst time over the course by minutes. Sadly, that bow marker penalty dropped us to last. Ah well, it iwill never happen again. Now we know better.

Next episode: recoup, recover, and relax.
Love,
Muffin