Yes, I Realize This New Design is Awkward and Way Early

So I am kind of bored, okay? And I was thinking, hey, a big part of this summer is preparing to go abroad for a few months. Let's change the header and make it Amsterdam-y!

Well that was kind of a big fail and blogger won't let me fix it, for some reason.

So yes, the blog "es International"in August. Fun times. At least I now have plenty of free time to come up with some Dutch pun I can use in the title.

Being Home

I spent all of last week rowing, sleeping, rowing more, running, eating and napping. It was awesome. The weather got nice in Ithaca, and I took advantage by making my sock tan worse.

It was even harder to leave this time because I won't see campus--and a lot of my friends-- again until January 2011. For some, I won't see them until I am SENIOR because they're studying abroad in the spring. Insanity. 

This summer I'm doing something different. I'm so used to structure and scheduling with swim team, coaching, and interning. This time, I'm putting together a hodge podge of babysitting, giving swim lessons, training, reading, and volunteering. I may not be resume building, but its almost refreshing in its freedom. 

I am partially spending my freedom relaxing with my parents, and my Dad is subjecting me to one of his ridiculous history channel shows. Most of these shows involve things like antique bicycles or car parts. But let me tell you, for all the weird television shows they choose, it's way nice to be parented again.

I'm also trying to get a jump on training this summer, and I've been really good about it so far. However, I've quickly realized that all this lush green shrubbery comes at a price: DEATH BY RUNNING. I also failed to wake up at a decent hour today, and so I can't get my workout in in the morning. I'll wait until it's NOT 85 degrees going on 90 before noon and won't pass out on the side of the road mid-jog. I also try to erg every day, in my nice and cool basement, but I'm not sure I could bring myself to do the entire day's workout on that thing. We're still working out our complex relationship.

One of the best parts of being home is reconnecting with old friends. Yes, cliche, but totally true. Last night we all got together for the first time for Cam's birthday. We went to Mi Rancho, which has the best enchiladas anywhere, and sat under their big tent outside laughing and talking and feeling like we never left. There's still the part of me deep down in my stomach that physically aches for Ithaca, but I guess that won't be going away any time soon.

But, coming up this weekend, the LAKE!

Start to Summer

Let me tell you, Ithaca rocks way more when classes aren't getting in the way.

I mean, seriously. Everyone leaves. The sun comes out and it gets warm.

Yesterday, I literally woke up with the sun at 7, rolled out of bed and chilled in my dorm kitchen, drinking green tea and eating cereal--totally relaxed and pleased with myself. Then I ran down to practice for my first practice with the varsity.

Things are different with them. They have WAY nicer boats, and their oar handles are plastic instead of wooden. That means my butt hurts less, my seat doesn't squeak, and I have all new blisters. But it is SO cool rowing with them and getting corrected every few seconds. It's only been three practices and I've learned so much already.

I got back to campus and fell asleep until the next practice. That's right. I NAPPED. Summer, I am a fan of you.

The next practice, we had a few too many people for the third eight, so I was put in a single scull. It took a few minutes to remember exactly how it worked, especially after rowing sweep for so long. But then, it was just me, out on lake Cayuga with the sun warming my back, rowing. What a perfect start to the summer, right?

But then there was the reality that I had 7 a.m. practice this morning, and I was getting up at 6 on my third day of summer. Still worth it.

And now I'm going to nap before my next practice. Let's pretend it's normal to nap at 10 a.m.

I'm Finished

I actually completed everything.

I know, mind-blowing, right?

I have a whole extra week in Ithaca to wonder what the heck is up with the weather and enjoy this city...and this lake...without the pressure of classes. It's great. It's fantastic!

The only thing is, there's no more dining halls. Meaning I actually have to feed myself. Upon preparing for this, I realized I do not know how to do this. Which is why I am eating mini wheats, hummus wraps and microwaveable dinners and soups plus whatever I can put peanut butter on for the next week. This was my grocery list:

-Milk
-Wheat wraps
- Hummus
-Bagged salad
- Things for dinner??

Luckily, there are many things you can put peanut butter on. Oreos are one of them. My roommate showed me this yesterday, and she shouldn't have. Because that's officially all I'm eating for the rest of my life. It is horrifying and yet actually delicious. I am also probably going to die at a young age.

All this free time also gives me ample time to stretch out my waxing-nostalgic about the past year. I love this stuff and I hate this stuff at the same time. Goodbyes are no fun at all. Particularly after a year this transformative and this amazing.

So prepare yourself.

Okay, Here Goes

It is that time of year.

Finals week. Or, the week in which I write all the papers I should have started ages ago.

Or, the week in which my brain sputters out on me way too early.

Seriously, unless you are my parents, you seriously won't want to read this. You won't really care at all. Because basically it's like a whiny to-do list I'm writing to procrastinate.

Okay. You're reading this? You must really, really love me or really, really want to procrastinate too.

Today's my USSR environment class final. That class is seriously on notice forever. I don't even want to talk about it. It is so close to being finished.

I'll also finish News II today. Which feels incredibly anti-climactic, despite the craziness that went into getting the footage for it.

Then, by friday I will write:
- 6 more pages about the efforts toward a common asylum policy in the European Union (hint, it's not pretty. Lots of racism, lot's of bureaucracy, lots of nationalism. Oooohhh, my FAVORITE!)
-4 more pages on the elements of anarchism in Green Day's punk rock opera American Idiot. Yes, I came up with that topic myself, and no, my professor is not going to know who Green Day is.
- 3 more pages on elements of fascism in the Bush administration. This one is fun. Also depressing. Can you tell which class I procrastinated on? "Ideas and Ideologies"
-Aaaannnddd 2 more pages on the representation of socialist principles in public education. This is not so fun. Actually, it is extremely dull.

That's not bad. It's manageable. Or, it would be if I could concentrate. And think of everything I'll have produced by the end of this week! I calculated, and my final page count for final papers is 38. I'll also have finished one exam and put together one three minute video.

And on Friday, I'll be one of the happiest people on the planet. Because I WILL BE DONE!

Mother's Day

I'm getting on this early. On the real Mother's Day, I'll be racing twice at the Eastern Conference Championships, dead tired, and without access to a computer. So.

I like to start these things with an image, or a moment--one that just sums up my mother. I think that's impossible. And for some reason, I just have this picture, this sense in my head I can't get out.

It's summer, and Claire and I are still small. Small enough that the July grass in our backyard tickles your calves, and there's the kind of heavy heat that makes it feel like there's no world beyond this fence and this clothesline. We're supposed to be "helping" mom hang the laundry, but our help mostly involves us playing under the cool wetness of the washed bed sheets. And, man, I'm just so happy.

How's that about my mom? Well, my mom's home. She's every moment of innocent bliss, the hours that last forever when you're young because you're loved and you're safe.

Then there are the winter nights at the dining room table, working on calculus problem after calculus problem while the packed-full days weigh on your eyelids.

There's the college phone calls she takes, whether they come with tears or laughter.

The car rides from practices and piano lessons, sorting through the trappings of growing up as a girl, and as a woman.

My mom isn't very political, and I know she sometimes wonders where I came from. A writer and a feminist from a crop of engineers and the like. But I think you can see where I came from. I know she'd go to the mat for me, fighting hard for whatever's best for her daughters. I hope I can take that example and that strength and put what I love into it. I hope I can emulate her presentation of authority--subtle, secure, and without vitriol.

I love you Mom. I know you may second guess and worry, but you rock. Thanks for that.

And then, in pictures

I'm riding high on this win all week.

One of the best parts about this race was that it put a lot of my favorite people in the whole world together in ONE PLACE!

Don't we all look related? Yes? I thought so.

Oh, and let me present to you, your 2010 Novice Women's Crew New York State Champions....

We got some serious hardware. And now it's sitting on my desk and I don't know what to do with it.

And then someone thought it was a good idea to let us out in public. 

I love my team. But that's kind of in the pictures, isn't it?

.73 of a Second

.73 of a second.

I've talked about it before. The almosts and half-way theres, the if onlys.

The hand the got out-touched on the wall, the goal you should have saved. If you'd just pushed a little harder--

maybe.

.73 of a second.

And then there's the nevers. When the delta between your abilities and dreams are so large, you don't even hold them close. Measuring up isn't a matter of inches, it's miles. Climbing onto the block, hands dangling over water, and the adrenaline is bottled in the idea that sometimes, you really don't have a chance.

There's the inadequacy, the fear. The pressure that mounts on the back of your neck every morning when you push off, wondering what's not connecting.  A legacy at Ithaca, where excellence and dominance are expected. A win isn't shocking and a loss is more than demoralizing. You can shrug your shoulders and roll your neck, the pressure won't go away.

.73 of a second.

No, this time, it was 5 seconds.

University of Rochester, at home. Second race. This time, no catastrophe, no equipment malfunctions. Let's win this.

5 seconds behind.

My legs and cheeks are burning, all I see are my palms.

9 seconds. Last weekend. Against Division-I Marist. Lose again. The race feels good. The time, 7:55, says otherwise.

Years, maybe decades? Apparently every year except once, Ithaca's women's novice crew has won states. Everyone is telling you that, every day. You want to punch something every time you hear it. I'm scared. I'm just scared, and I see this delta I've seen all my life, a crevice between expectations and ability. It's opening up wide again and I don't want back there.

That's why, when I came to college, I thought, "No more sports. Just me."

And without a team, I found a new crevice.

Crawling out of that crevice led me to a lecture hall in August. Coach Robinson had a video up on the projector. It had the first varsity's race against Cornell. And it had them winning. There was also a video of a men's varsity race. They tape all the finishes, Coach Robinson explains, just in case it's close.

The men's video--you watch it without breathing. Blink and you've missed it, but that's a win, ladies, that's a win. 


I scrounge through my bag for a pen and put my name on the list.

There are 7 boats in this race, it's madness.

Look to the right, there's Rochester.

5 seconds.

Next to them, Marist.

9.

Hamilton's on the left. Those girls are huge. All muscle, all poised confidence.

ATTENTION, ROW!

It's blinding, really. The start. I listen to it. That's how I follow. Some people watch oarlocks, some people watch shoulders, but put me in a race and I can't see anymore. Thunk, thunk, and shrieking pain are all I need.

We're in it, harder and faster than we've ever felt before. There are so many boats, you don't know what's happening. It's like a pack of wild horses is stampeding around you, and instead of curling up and throwing your hands over your face, you claw through the dust and start to run with them, hooves flying and all.

Fury, bows pulsing for the edge, coxswains yelling. Calm down, but keep the power, let's fly.

And we leave Rochester behind. Alexa hollers, "Take a 10 and say GOODBYE!"

But nothing's coming easy. The last 250 meters take us by surprise, and we're getting walked on. LAST TEN, LAST TEN, I WANT EVERYTHING YOU HAVE EVERYTHING YOU HAVE! ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE, COME ON SIX, SEVEN, EIGHT, NINE, AND TEN!

The grunts behind you quiet. You hear oars rock and bodies collapsing. Row back, take out the boat. No one knows.

The announcement's here. It's under video review. No one knows.

Half hour later. They read up from seventh place. Some girls are holding hands, but I duck my head and close my eyes. In third place, Geneseo. In second place....

Marist.

Eruption.

And I'm a New York State Champion, by .73 of a second.