Revelations to and from the Boathouse

I just did not feel up for it. I did not want to go. You kind of have to get yourself prepped for spending a few hours having no idea what anyone is saying. I did not want to go to practice today. It's really cool and everything, but it can be tough being only one of two things: a novelty or a burden. "An American! Oh! That is so cool!" or "You don't speak...oh...hokay..."

But I got my butt out the door, onto my bike, and biked all the way to the boathouse.

I waited for awhile, and my coach, a grad student, came and joined me. She was excited to talk with me, and we compared our rowing experiences and she regaled me with tales of a ridiculous crew party she went to on Tuesday. It was really cool finally talking to a Dutch person...normally.

None of the other girls in my four showed up.

I would have been sad, but this turned into the coolest thing ever.

She took me down to the tanks they have in the boathouse. (I know, I'm seriously making a list for Becky to include in the new Ithaca boathouse. First, a bar. Second, TANKS.)

And that is how I got a private technique lesson from a World Championship rower.

My brain almost exploded. Becky has tried over and over to fix my body position, and I think I finally understood it today.

But still. I don't even know how to tell this story without repeating the words "cool" and "awesome" an absurd number of times. When I was going to row the first time here I actually got mad at myself. Mad that I always had to do something more, and make it harder for myself. Why couldn't I have just been normal and not rowed for a semester? Why couldn't I be like everything else? This is awkward and stressful and geez I do not like being totally informed all the time and knowing exactly how things are going to work and I like being comfortable and here I am in some sketchy part of Amsterdam heck I don't think I'm in the city anymore for all I know I'm in Belgium I COULD have been taking a stroll somewhere nice but no, I would never do that, so man up, and figure this out.

Biking back, I realized that the bike is what really sums it up. Out of all the things and problems and challenges in Amsterdam, I was MOST worried about the bike. I think I got stomach pains whenever someone mentioned it. "Why the heck," I thought, "didn't I go to a city where they really like public transportation? WHY BIKES?"

To start off I white knuckled it everywhere, flinching constantly, terrified. Today, riding home, I felt comfortable. I passed people, merged into crowds of moving metal, and got home fast. I knew exactly where I was going. And I knew exactly how to do it.

I guess I'm finally accepting that a little discomfort comes along with anything worth doing. Amsterdam's helping me stop calculating risks, planning every last detail, fretting over any unknown or could-be.

Quite literally, I'm loosening my grip. And it's a way better ride.