Sunday, April 11, 2010

Back at it…

It has been noted that there has been a dearth of posts about my rowing addiction passion. There is a very good reason for this: no rowing. It has been a long and row-less winter made more difficult by the facts that: (a.) it wasn't my fault and (b.) from late September to today, there were only 34 days that the lake was unrowable. The "not my fault" has to do with previous executive decisions leading to ending of tenancy and consequent moving of all equipment into storage. The placidity of the lake for the winter has to do with Mother Nature listening in while I was going on in August about how much I was looking forward to rowing when the cowardly water-skiers put their machines of infamy boats away and left the lake to sensible people and the wildlife who deserved it.

Today, however, there is Rowing!! After a winter of hard-work and a lot of pieces connecting up, boats and blades are out of storage and rowing was done this morning. Yah! and also HOO!!

There are, of course, a few things that need to be remembered. Things such as

  1. no matter how much I want to, I cannot, by the force of my own will, make the water temperature in the lake in April rise above 3 degrees Celsius
  2. no matter what a good idea it was to give that bag of Wellies to the shoe drive two weeks ago, I should have listened to the still, small voice asking "are you really sure about that pair from New Zealand leaving the premises??"
  3. launching from the beach means feet will be in the lake
  4. while it is not possible to get hypothermia from four 6 second immersions of legs to knees, said 3 deg C certainly gives one an incentive to work on one's boat balance so one doesn't have the full immersion experience.

I found a pair of overlooked Wellies when I got home. With grace, they won't leak.

Roll on Tuesday morning!


Still breathing


Anonymous AlisonH said...

My daughter flew to England last month to visit a high school chum who was getting her Master's at Oxford. She came home talking about rowing, at length.

My closest experience is paddling one of two canoes on the C&O Canal, and I was speaking the truth to my disbelieving mother later that I did not intend to dump my little sister in that mucky water when I went to push her canoe away so she'd stop bumping mine. (I was 12, she, 11.)

9:36 p.m.  

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