Comfort

Sometimes the rain can be a blessing in disguise. Tonight it was, for it seemed to drive away the wind and smooth out the water as if it were a blanket of ice. Said wind initially prevented us from getting out onto the water; instead, a 6k erg session at relatively high pressure was on the agenda. This went well, and by the time we had all finished the wind had largely dissipated and the call was made to bring out the boats and head out onto the water for a leisurely ('recovery') 8k. The fact the rain increased in intensity once we were well on our way in the four (a Vega, Andrew) ended up doing us some good, because when it died away and eventually returned to the same intensity we were already good and soaked. When it's not frigid outside, this seems to actually help with the focus in the boat; a certain feeling of wanting to pull with the same intensity as the driving rain serves to crank up the intensity and efficiency as well. At the end of it all, (while we only rowed 6k instead of eight as the rain increased in intensity to the point that it was difficult to focus on anything else), each of us felt that we had a great practice, pulled a strong and fast 100m to finish it off, and are confident in our abilities to turn ourselves into a real contender throughout the summer season. This is not to say we don't have a lot to work on - the list is rather extensive - but it's a good start.

The explanation for the title of this post is that I'm enjoying the feeling that any athlete can relate to after returning from a practice, race or game that was conducted in weather such as that we experienced this evening. It's the feeling achieved by sitting down to relax in the comfort of one's own home after a nice, warm shower and realizing why you commit yourself to your particular sport to the extent that you do, and why you just can't get enough.

The evening's practice was preceded by a long day at the Basin. 6am-8am: crew practice; 9am-3pm: teaching a group of four 'challenging' British boarding school kids how to row...or at least giving it a valiant attempt. The realization myself and my fellow LTR coach came to was that there are only so many things you can do, and they don't outnumber those that are out of your control. Out of our control: the wind which prevented the four kids from being able to row themselves any significant distance from the dock and which washed them ashore on several occasions; the dead fish that found its way onto one of the docks and was subsquently flung by one of the kids, and then by their teacher, towards one another; the 'anger management problems' one of them apparently was known for; ADD; teachers who act as though they are one of the kids. The gratifying part was that one of them, one of the more down-to-earth and eager to learn, commented at the end of the day that he learned a lot and appreciated our effort.

Not much time left before bed at 10pm, so that's all for today.