Twenty-four hours a week for 45 weeks spent gliding oars, chasing 2k times down, and growing mental toughness.
Rowing is prominent on the coasts, in Europe, and at the collegiate level – rather than high school. The motions of rowing are almost the exact same as a rowing machine – the seats move in the boat, and most of the strength should come from the leg drive. It has a bit of a nerdy, preppy and masochist reputation. Rowing is seemingly parallel to fencing or squash. But, impulsively joining the rowing cult was one of the best decisions I have made.
Growing up in southern California, I biked through Marina Del Rey where I would watch the crew team glide past in the evenings. My dad, proud that his height genes transferred, would always hint at me joining when I got older. However, when I moved to Texas
where the sport was basically non-existent, I just forgot about that idea.
Amid the whirlwind of my junior year, I decided that I wanted to add another random extracurricular to my life, and, more importantly, a stress outlet. I did some research and found two nearby rowing clubs, one closer than the other – Dallas Rowing Club. I emailed the first coach that popped up, which was for Dallas Rowing Club Juniors. On that random Thursday night, I didn’t think much of it. The coach emailed back with a welcome and said I could come that weekend. After convincing my parents that my young driver’s license was equipped to drive to the city six days a week to chase an eccentric hobby, I started a momentous year.
Working out was a chore before rowing. Somewhere through the hours worth of erg training, running, weightlifting, biking, and especially water practice, I became obsessed with the endorphins. I realized the capability and strength of my body. I was able to activate 85% of my muscles through the continuous drive, finish and recovery sequence.
I became close with a diverse group of teenagers, I otherwise would not have bonded with. They understood the inside jokes, the pain of the workouts, the hunger post-practice and the reward. My boatmates were the ones screaming in my ear to “drop the hammer” and “flush out today.” I celebrated with them through the end of regattas as we caught our breath. Now, even after we went our separate ways from the team, I still meet for dinners regularly with one of my teammates.
DRC taught me a new level of dedication. Yes, the rewards of the “Hammer Award” (fastest girls’ 2k time) and stroke seat position validated my work, but the personal growth stuck. I showed up for my goals, for myself, and for my team. I wanted to dedicate my time to perfecting something I loved.
I decided not to compete in my senior spring season because of the travel and time commitment. I really wish I did not live so far from the boat house. I’m grateful for the year of discipline and camaraderie I still completed. I hope to join a rowing team in college and find a new home at their boathouse.
