I always thought you had to wake at the ass crack of dawn to be in crew. In college I considered joining the team, but foolishly heeded advice from some Tri Delt from Oklahoma that bulky shoulders were unseemly. But when I researched rowing classes this spring, I found a series in the evening for beginners and decided to give it a whirl. It’s everything I’d imagined, but harder and better.
You have to have some patience through the first few classes, while you learn technique (most gym rowers do it all wrong), safety (what to do if your oar gets caught the wrong way in the water, how not to die of hypothermia if you fall in), and proper handling of the equipment (shit’s expensive). But it’s all worth it once you’re out on the water. Rowing shells are light and fragile and fast—just thin carbon/plastic between your body and the depths. As you pick up speed, the silky, rippling blackness mesmerizes you, its glimmering fractals sliding under and around you. Your body learns the pattern as your oar feathers and dips, forming pretty, overlapping triangles of mini-wake.
My class is at the Mt. Baker Rowing & Sailing Center on a little jetty sticking out into Lake Washington, about halfway between I-90 and Seward Park. The sky is big here, bigger than most places in this city, where hills or buildings eclipse its expanse. And yesterday evening the clouds were fucken crazy (not as crazy as these [via Rachel Maddow], but definitely deserving of props here): a looming gray monster here, a perky clique of fluffs there, all connected via stuttering streaks across the baby blue stretch from Mercer Island to Beacon Hill.
It’s easy to get distracted by the sky or the swooping osprey (it circles and dives, its freakishly small head disappearing beneath the surface) or the shrieking wakeboarder (he swerves and flips, crashing with a glorious splash half the time), but don’t—like riding a bike, rowing takes intense concentration at first. Through fits and starts you find a rhythm, engaging your stomach and back and hamstrings and, of course, arms. And you must pay close attention to your crewmates—if you’re not in sync, it’s like riding a lurching county-fair roller coaster. I know taking a random class all by yourself with a buncha strangers can be weird. But working together pays off, and your differences matter little when you are zooming across the water with the strength of eight bodies (though I still can’t wait for solo sculling).
It’s nice to have the anchor of a scheduled class within the mayhem of possibility that is Seattle’s fleeting summer. Check it: Lake Union Crew, Lake Washington Rowing Club, Mt. Baker Rowing & Sailing Center, and Pockock Rowing Center.
Photo by charlie don’t surf. from Flickr.
The times already did this circle jerk story.
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/st…
and managed to do it without random bolding.
Rowing is great. Did it in college and even rowed a full marathon in Natchitoches, LA. Just watch out for the blisters on your hands!
I have always wanted to try crew and you just made me feel annoyed at myself for not having done so sooner! When I first investigated I thought it was kind of pricey, but its cheaper than most yoga studios, and since I get free yoga now I might just have to try it out with the Sammamish Rowing Association 🙂
Yup. And I notice that you’re up at the ass crack of dawn, too.
“Fucken” ?? The word is “fucking.” The contraction is “fuckin'” and don’t DARE drop that final apostrophe and don’t even drop the gerundic “g” unless you are actually rural, Todd Palion or from the NJ mob for real.
Enough with faux dogpatchery.
(One exception to the rule against using “fucken”:
“fucken” **may** be used in a poetic mood, to describe the process by which one creates a “turducken.”)
Pls. make a etc.
Crew was the best part of my high school experience, and I wish I’d been able to row in college. I started at a community college and there was no program for people my age at my RA. And now I live in the high desert with no big lakes or wide, deep rivers.
Do they have you using those horrible hatchets? I’m happy I finished h.s. at the very tail end of regular oars.
I was on the crew team in high school in the late 80s/early 90s and sometimes you did have to get up at the ass crack of dawn (and then again after school) That’s why I didn’t pursue it in college. It’s not easy, especially in an 8 man shell, but its a good experience once you get the hang of it. I’ve only kayaked in Seattle, but maybe I should catch a crab again…….
For those who would prefer to do their rowing in the evenings, the Experimental College has a beginning rowing class. Two sections, one at 6:30pm and one at 8:00pm. I found it a nice way to relax after work in the summer last year.
https://depts.washington.edu/asuwxpcl/ca…
For such a poetic, lovely post, your choices for Slogbolding were …choice.
…asscrack of dawn…
…harder and better…
…how not to die of hypothermia…
…shit’s expensive…
…the sky is big here…
…perky clique of fluffs…
…freakishly small head…
…but don’t…
…a lurching county-fair roller coaster…
…solo sculling…
…mayhem of possibility…
Reading just those, I’d have assumed you were doing something either mildly illegal or mildly immoral.