.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.

Let's Go With "Chinua Achebe's Literary Classic" Here

Everyone kind of has their thing on our team. I'm not the best erger, the fastest runner, the best bencher, the most skillful. My thing? 


I'm healthy. Or at least, I am generally accustomed to a base level of pain and fix everything with band-aids and advil. They're starting to cut the crew team off because it spends about 4 times as much on athletic tape as any other sport.

But that's my thing. I'm not injured. When everyone else was destroying their knees on soccer fields and tracks, I was swimming and protecting my joints.

But then this week happened, and I think my body hit a wall. My shins BURN like they never have before. They're mad at me. My wrists aren't a fan of opening doors. My back has more knots than the shoes of a kindergardener learning to tie them. My body was fine, and it threw in the towel. Too early. This weekend is state championships. Next weekend is eastern conference championships. Then I have a week "off" for finals and will follow that up by a week of two-a-day practices while the varsity preps for NCAAs. 

Hear that, body? It's time to get yourself together.

Beyond my physical frustrations, I am getting things done. I have my master list of everything that needs to get done in the next week and a half of classes and for finals. I'm doing it. I just have to focus, which is difficult. Especially when the Ithaca students are all so preoccupied with the fact that it's February again and IT SNOWED ALL DAY yesterday.

SERIOUSLY.

But here's the thing. I get to see my sister, whom I haven't seen since January, on Saturday. It's probably the longest we've ever gone without seeing each other.

I can't guarantee that I won't injure her when I greet her via tackling. Sorry, RPI Crew.

I Absolutely Shouldn't Be Blogging Right Now

My life is quite crazy. I'm stuck in a tornado and wondering when in the heck I'm going to touch down in Oz. 

Anyway, you all just had to know that THIS was my award for crew this year. 

And yes, it did complete my whole existence. 

I don't even need to graduate college any more. I HAVE ACHIEVED SOMETHING IN LIFE!

Enough Said

This Post is Going to be About One of My Many Chocolate Bunnies

I did a lot of stuff today. The sad part is, the most interesting thing I can think of is the fact that I finally figured out how to go about eating chocolate bunny number one, and it involved slamming it into my desk repeatedly.

Cathartic.

And also delicious.

This morning I woke up in a blurry haze and somehow ended up at lifting. I must have walked there and I probably carried on a conversation with Ashley to some extent, but all I know is that suddenly it was early and I was running around a gym and also Erica was trying to get me to do some type of plyometrics that my hamstrings laughed at the idea of. They were called Spidermans. Spiderman and I do not have a lot in common beyond an affinity for spandex. I am not flexible, and am very bad at climbing things. In that I once ripped my pants climbing over a fence the height of my belly button.

Very bad at climbing. Also irrelevant to my day recap.

After lifting was my radio shift, at which I continued to fail at pronunciation. Kyrgyzstan, you are on notice.

After that I met with my Legislative Behavior professor and the Senate Majority Leader to determine the order of business for Saturday. Harry Reid is somehow trying to force a Don't Ask Don't Tell amendment on my immigration bill. IRRITATING. I was very happy with this bill so far. We'd had a lot of Republican victories with it. Yes, it includes a fence.

Then, off my environmental issues of the former USSR class. This class is also on notice.

After that, study abroad orientation. Shrill lady talking about health insurance that I already have and how small children will likely surround me and try to take my money during my experience abroad. This is good.

Lunch. Then extremely productive meeting with coach, who makes me stop hating myself for failing at erg tests all the time and is not upset that I am studying abroad. I guess all that pre-meeting FREAKING OUT was unnecessary.

Then, Legislative Behavior. The democrats are able to force through Reid's jobs bill, which was inevitable and everything, but I don't like losing. Too bad I'm a Republican. (IN SIMULATION ONLY. LET ME MAKE THAT VERY CLEAR.)

Then crew. Erg instead of going on the water because I'm missing this week's huge regatta, and Becky wants me to reacquaint myself with erging so I stop fearing it so much. This practice is supposed to be win-win. Instead, it's just kind of depressing.

Dinner. Procrastination. Breaking of bunny. Feminist media perusing. Blog.

I'm so eloquent today, aren't you glad you were able to be immersed so vividly in my chaotic lifestyle for a few fleeting moments?

Yes. Yes you are.

As I'm Living It

There was a Post Secret card up today that stopped me in my tracks.

It stopped me, because I realized I'd actually achieved that this afternoon. There was that feeling of untethered happiness in a hot, sun-filled car singing at the top of your lungs with your teammates. I'm miming a drum solo and laughing and the feeling that we won today is still with me, and this is my life, and I have papers to write and a television show to get to, but none of that matters because right now, I'm loving my life as I live it.

Because my life is crazy. Today, I had a race at the very same place I'd watched Claire race for the first time last year. You know, this one.  Sitting there, watching, I had absolutely no clue I'd be here rowing a year later.

Rowing down to the start, we suddenly heard a scraping on the bottom and jolted to a complete stop. A little panic. We were in the middle of the river, STUCK on a raised bank of sand. "Get out of the boat," said our coxswain. WHAT?

And a moment later, we're standing thigh deep in the freezing water, hands grasping the boat, and straining against a current, pushing the boat off. One by one, we got back in, a little dazed by what had just happened. Then we kept warming up.

The race. Binghamton's second varsity boat.

Lined up, ready to go.

We're jumped off the start. Always. DAMN it.

Our coxswain's screaming. We've never had her before. I'm not sure I understand what she's saying, but I'm pulling. 


We're walking them. Seat by seat. Lined up. Fighting side by side.

The 1000 mark. There's our team on the bank. They begin to cheer.

A rush of adrenaline. We make our move, pulling a boat length ahead.

The coxswain's yelling more.

It's the boat ten. We're pulling for each other.

ONE for Jillian. TWO for Maddy, THREE for Dakota, FOUR for Regina, FIVE for Abby, SIX for Sara, SEVEN for Lizzie, EIGHT for Danielle, ONE for the Kearing, ONE FOR THE BOMBERS.

And by pulling together, making our comeback, and never giving up, we got one for the Bombers.

One win.

Guys, the Situation is Perilous

CHECK OUT MY STASH.

I mean, it's ridiculous. Two chocolate bunnies. Untold amounts of Reeses. A huge, already kind of worked-through bag of Amma cookies.

Good thing I will work out twice a day and look exactly the same.