Fight

Yesterday, I had the best race of my entire life.

Yesterday, I raced for the last time with Ithaca Crew.

Today, as I sat surrounded by my crew family, I was handed a popsicle stick with my last name written on it in sharpie. Then, I burst into tears.

That popsicle stick attaches to a board where line-ups are scattered every day at practice. Staring at that popsicle stick, I knew then that it was really over. I have rowed in the Tavelli for the last time. I have heard the roar of SLINGSHOT for the last time. And it feels like my heart is on the ground being stomped on.

I was fine my freshman year. A little lost, unhappy with my major, and unsure of who I was, but still fine. I thought that this was just how it was, how it was supposed to be. I was so, so wrong.

Crew taught me how to fail and how to fall and get back up. It taught me discipline. It taught me what pain was. It taught me what love was. It taught me how to fight for what I wanted. And now, it's teaching me what loss really feels like. I am normally very good at sentimental posts. But this almost means too much to me to put it into words. It has made me so, so happy. It has made me happier than just about anything I have ever done.

It hurts so badly to leave this behind. It is so scary to leave this wonderful family behind for the unknown world beyond it. I am not ready, but I have to be.

But I know this: I cannot live life without having an oar in my hands again. I cannot live life without motion and the mental clarity that comes with it. I will run and I will erg and I will find a way to watch the sunrise over the water until my body give out. At times of great transition, I think we need to make promises to ourselves. I promise to be an athlete. It may be naive, but I promise to keep the passion that pushes me towards politics. College is a bubble. It's a beautiful, messy bubble and I know there are things that must be left behind. But I will take what I can and fight for it.

The Last Race on the Inlet

I am a planner. I weigh every option with care, need escape routes and plan Bs and everything in between. That's why I'm still shocked, nearly three years later, that I joined crew. 

It didn't really make sense. It would be time consuming. You can't really put it on a resume. You have to get up at 4:30am. Spring break and spring weekends would be gone. Going to the bars on a Thursday? (Tuesday? Wednesday? It is college) HAHAHAHAHA...forget it. 

Claire gave me a verbal kick in the butt, and I joined. 

Yesterday, I found myself passing under the bridges, hearing my coxswain roar "SLINGSHOT!" and feeling that rush of adrenaline that goes straight through your fingers--one last time. There is nothing like that in the world. It was my last race on our inlet. We celebrated the seniors, and I think the faces really say all you need to know. 

 

Georgia, Finale

Some college students went to tropical locales, drank heavily, and slept lots on their spring breaks. I did four hours of practice a day, tore my hands to shreds, and got up at 6am every day. 

On the plus side, I got this. 

So I Went To Boston

I will always feel this weird sort of belonging in Boston. Some of it is probably that my parents both spent important parts of their youth there. Also, it's a New England-y historical bustling city of fun!

I crammed in a car with four other teammates at the crack of dawn on Saturday and we roadtripped down, scaring rest stop owners and laughing at the weird names of rural New York towns.

Then I met up with this chick, whom I've know for...forever. She's kind of a local. It's weird.

We explored Boston (well, us Ithacans did. Anna guided us along). We walked for miles, got Italian pastries, went to a Pulp Fiction themed cheeseburger place, and ate Oreos on the streets of Boston.  I slept on an inflatable mattress in her apartment and had the best sleep of my life. True story.

The reason I was in Boston was to do C.R.A.S.H B Sprints. This essentially means I was paying 20 bucks to be tortured in a crowded arena.

It was worth it. I beat my best time by nine whole seconds. See!

Then I couldn't really stand and was a little delirious, but Anna insisted on taking a picture of me with my erg. 

 

Now there is a picture of me looking exhausted, sweaty and a little dazed on the internet. At least I look happy. 

All of us did so well. It was just the best weekend I could ask for. I love these girls so much. 

 

Young

As a 21 year-old and senior in college I get to feel old--mature even--a lot of the time.

I have college figured out. I certainly don't feel "Shipped Off" anymore. Ithaca is my home. I have family and friends here as much as I do back in Maryland. I may still dress inappropriately for the weather ("WHERE IS YOUR COAT?" concerned northern roommates query), but at least I've finally accepted wool socks as a permanent staple in my life.

I classes I am comfortable to contribute. I am confident in my work. I don't have to figure out in advance where my classes are. Some younger members of the team ask me for advice, though they probably shouldn't because crew is just finally clicking for me. I am taking classes that are challenging but enjoyable. I get my work done.

I enjoyed this feeling of completeness and assuredness all throughout break. Then, miraculously, my future post-May began to fall into place. As I begin to grapple with even the concept of days of 9 to 5 and salaries and taxes and 401Ks, I have never, ever felt so incredibly young. I am lucky. I really am, to have a plan. But for some strange reason, after the dancing around and excitement, I feel like I'm holding my breath.

Maybe it's because the future is so radically different from now. That it's really the beginning of my story, of something I could call a career, the climb onto the bottom rung of the grisly ladder of politics. Maybe it's the realization that I've learned so much about the world and its structure, mechanisms, and eccentricities over these past four years and but I still know very little about it.

I don't know. For now I will remind myself to breathe and to enjoy the cocoon of dining halls and 6am practice and erg tests and research papers. That's okay, right?

Head of the Fish

It was freezing cold. There was snow. But, we still managed to have a great time.

(Also, I rowed in the first varsity boat for the first time. Now I can cross THAT off the college bucket list.)

Annnddd...I got to race this lovely sister of mine for the first time!

We took this last picture to show the contrast between our "big" four and "little" four. We succeeded.

21

I'm 21, guys!

It's awesome. Already. I made mature, educated choices, so don't worry. I had my first Long Island Ice Tea that wasn't made by my dad and the first margarita not made by my uncle or mother, and in both instances I realized I have been intensely spoiled all my life.

Also, it will be sad when I am actually the one purchasing these drinks. Birthdays are fun.

I was lucky enough to have my birthday over our fall break, and this meant lots of fun was to be had. I was able to explore Ithaca and its surrounding areas. We dug through second hand stores, ate fried food, navigated a 3.5 mile long corn maze with flash lights, and had an amazing time. I have never been so full, tired, muddy, and happy all at the same time.

I have incredible friends, and I am very, very lucky for that.

I also have an incredible family, who braved the absolute worst weather of all time to come watch us race at the Head of the Genesee last weekend. As one of the few crews to stay for both races, they had a long day in freezing rain and gushing wind. And yet the stayed, got soaked, and fed extremely hungry rowers. You guys rock. And seriously, after all that, I owe y'all a DRINK.