I Will Never Feel Warm Again

In Georgia, we all wore tank tops and got marvelous sock tans. We guzzled water to stay hydrated in the strong afternoon sun.

Yesterday, our coaches had to shovel snow off the dock so we could launch. No number of layers or wool socks could combat the weather of Ithaca yesterday. Piles of hail built up around our feet and the waves soaked our layers through.

My hands were fuchsia for approximately forever. I couldn't finish my salad at dinner because the lettuce felt too cold. 

Seriously, though, it could be worse. It's Cornell's spring break this week, and they don't go on a trip. They row twice a day in this. I know. Me. Sympathy. Cornell. I suppose having to suffer through a week like this gives them a pass for blocking the entire inlet and cutting us off like, maybe twice. 

I just had to update you guys on how hardcore it felt. Also, if the temperature today breaks 30 during practice, I will worship whatever being I deem responsible. 

Over 30 Hours on a Bus, Disgusting Hands, Exhaustion, Worth It

My hands are disgusting. They kind of remind me of the wounds you saw treated in Civil War casualty photos. You know, the ones they treated with leeches and excessive alcohol consumption?

So yeah. On our scrimmage race day I got blood all over my uniform tank. It's badass and also kind of nasty. Also, it's proof that I need to stop death-gripping the oar when I get excited.

I slept on the floor of a bus last night. That wasn't conducive to recovering after getting up at 6:30am every day of my spring break and then rowing for about 5 hours every day.

During my spring break, no one got wild. No one went to a beach. No one got filmed by MTV doing things they'd later regret. No one got fed by their mother for 3 meals a day. I disconnected from all social media, all news, everything.

And it was AWESOME. It feels strange to come out of that bubble, where your whole life is when you get to nap next and what's this practice's line-up and OH MY GOD I'M STROKING? and heck yes I'm getting tan everywhere but my feet and I wish everything I own didn't smell like sweat and lake water and dang this hotel is sketchy and wow I can't wait to eat again.

That was my life for 9 days in Gainesville, Georgia. We rowed at Lake Lanier, the 1996 Olympic Center. We had two-a-day practices with one afternoon off. During that break, we did things like this:

 

That kind of hurt. 

But honestly, it was amazing. And now that my laundry is in the dryer and I napped for four hours, I can reflect. Some of it was done for me. Our captains gave everyone on the Ithaca Crew Team a gold chain-link. (Not actual gold, duh) At first it seemed a little cheesy, but once you started to get into it, you felt it. We are one team. Everyone's success is your success. Everyone's failure is your chance to make a comeback. 

These people matter to me. All of them. Even the novice whose name I don't know or that varsity guy I've never talked to or that girl who's never been in my boat. They matter.

My class matters.

 

And my whole monstrously-sized team matters.

It's spring 2011, baby.

GO BOMBERS!