This morning I coxed for Yosemite Sam's crew for the last time, and I'd have to
say I got out of that just in time. It was expected to be around 50 degrees
(Arizona), and coxing is always colder than you think it possibly could be. In an
attempt not to fereze for once, I wore: a sports bra, a uni (in case I ended up
rowing instead for some reason), silk long johns, polartec 200 pants, polartec
socks (which unfortunately I had to put on in the boat after stepping into the
lake and getting my feet wet, since we launch from a beach instead of a dock), a
coolmax top, a polartec top, and a rowing jacket.
By the time we got
off the water, which was fortunately early due to one rower's wrist problems, my
hands and feet were numb. I was in a bow-coxed four and all those flip-catches
splashing me didn't help. And since I live in AZ I am not adapted for cold. In
retrospect, I should have worn a hat, gloves, and my waterproof socks.
The hot shower helped but I'm still chilled, even in a wool
turtleneck, jeans and boots. (Of course, that could just be due to over-zealous
office air-conditioning, too.)
I'm glad the coxing is over for
another reason too. The whole experience was a bit of a disappointment in some
ways. My intent was to learn to be a better race cox. In the head races we do in
fall, the cox can really make a difference; since the courses tend to be curvy,
the steering can make a huge difference. Also, the rowers are more likely to flag
over 5000 meters than in the 1000 meter sprint races, so it's up to the cox to
keep people intense and motivated. In his youth, YSam was a cox for the national
team, so he's the logical person to learn from.
I knew going in that
he's not always great at transmitting what he knows or telling you how to correct
a flaw, but to give him credit he did several times ask me to work on a specific
thing: painting a verbal picture to tell rowers where we were in a piece,
chattering to keep them distracted, whatever. (The former was good advice, the
latter I disagree with - I think it's better to talk to them and give them some
technique or power thing to focus on.) But I was expecting to get in some
practice, including some actual races, and somehow they just ... never did. We did
the race here at our own lake two weeks ago, one women's four raced at the Charles
and nothing more: not Newport, not Marina del Rey, not San Diego. There doesn't
seem to be any reason for it except that no one took control to make arrangements.
YSam, an old Bostonian, focused so intently on the Charles that he didn't care
about any other races. No one else in that program seems to have the initiative to
take control of their own training. I can make my own arrangements but wasn't
going to force them into anything because I was only a one-day-a-week guest. So no
races. I'll be glad to get back to operating in a milieu where if you want to
race, so go set it up, fill out the entry and book a hotel.
Lately
I've been hearing from a few people there how burned-out they're getting, and no
wonder. Training without a goal in mind is pure misery without a purpose. You
can't see gains because you don't know what your goal is, and you can't amortize
the more painful parts as being part of a worthy whole. So all you have left is
the joy in the moment and whenever that fades you have no motivation to keep
going.
Hang on, I think I need to stop writing for a bit and think
about what I've just told myself.