morning 2001-03-19 010319_14.html
regatta weekend
I’m back from the Long Beach regatta. I’ve got surnburn on my face and forearms, ears still unpopped from the combination of airplane flight and tail end of a sinus infection, and a flap of skin ripped on the the bottom of one foot, from too much running barefoot alongside the racing boats. (It was too hot to wear my boots, and my sandals were packed.) Since I believe that the measure of how good your weekend was, is how sore you are on Monday, this is all a Good Thing.
I flew out of Boston instead of Providence this time; it took me roughly twice as long to get there as it should have, because of traffic. Luckily, I’d listened to the locals and allowed enough time. The restroom in Logan airport reminded me of how much I hate ladies’ room lines; not only is there the basic problem of waiting to use the loo, but then you know you’re using one someone else just vacated. Ewww. Especially if it’s still warm. (Sorry for the mental image.)
An odd thing happened while I was waiting in that line though. I realized I was rephrasing all my thoughts into essays for this journal. I noted I should write about the lines (see above). Then I realized what I was doing. Then I starting thinking I should write an essay about how everything I thought was turning into essays in my head. Fortunately the rest of the weekend was distracting enough that I forgot all of this, or I might have been stuck in an infinite loop.
Back on the topic of bathrooms (sorry again), when I got on the first airplane, for some reason, American Airlines had decided that while we were loading onto the plane and waiting for the flight to start, all of the TV monitors onboard would show a series of scenic videos. Unfortunately, all of these were waterfalls, ocean waves, and other sorts of rushing water. Seemed like an odd choice, on an airplane with over a hundred people and three lavatories.
The rest of the weekend was very good, except that it was the first regatta I’d been to in about 10 years in which I didn’t compete. We had three juniors boats there (M4+, W8+, W8+) as well as quite a few Masters, Novice, and Open boats. Our juniors, like most of the teenagers I’ve met in the last several years, seem to be extraordinary people, must more accomplished and confident than I was at their age. I don’t know whether it’s an unusual generation, or if I’ve just been lucky.
I think we won some of the 500m dashes (they were still going on when I left for the airport). Besides those, T’s M4+ and a W4+ both came in second (T’s boat lost to a nationals champion and a boat he’d been with for 2 years; the women came in second by only .37 seconds). I think a novice W8+ also came in second, but am not sure of all the final results.
One of the most interesting parts of the weekend was hanging trying to be helpful with some of the adaptive rowers in training (in this case, it was all paraplegics, though the term can also refers to rowers who are blind or have other disabilities.) Long Beach has a top-notch adaptive program. They were rowing a Maas rec shell with "scullies" (little outrigger floats) attached to each oarlock) and a fixed seat with a back. The woman doing the coaching was incredible. I think she’s won some international golds for fixed-seat rowing. Not only was she an excellent coach, but the next day, she competed in both Women’s Master singles (in which everyone else was using their legs) and fixed seat rowing. She was toward the rear in the former, but staying with the pack. Just amazing. In the latter, she was boatlengths ahead of everyone else.
Getting in and out of the shells seemed to be the hardest part for her students (it’s not easy for anyone, since sculls are very tippy). One woman, especially, had only just lost the use of her legs and hasn’t yet learned all the tricks of balance, I think. She was very upbeat, though, far more than I think I’d have been in her place. I’d guess that it’s also very good for morale to learn a completely new skill, something you couldn’t do before losing the use of your legs. It probably also helped that the coaches were similarly handicapped (a precise term, I think; they held back somewhat by their paralyzed legs but were certainly not ‘disabled’). They were able to offer their students advice for dealing with life in a wheelchair in general, not just rowing, and to be role models. Certainly Angie, the main coach, would be a role model for anyone, functioning legs or not. It was all educational, partly because I think Tempe will eventually want to start an adaptive program, and partly because I always find it useful to watch different coaching styles in any phase of rowing.
One of our rowers who’d driven up (instead of coming in the bus) kindly gave me a ride to the airport -- Long Beach is a nice small airport, where you have to go outside and up the stairs to get on the plane. I like it because it feels more like actually flying -- in fact the FBO and Pilot Shop are right across from the terminal (so of course I stopped in the latter).
Landed in Boston at 1:20, only got lost once when trying to get on 93 South to the Pike, got home sometime around 3. If I’ve said anything stupid above, be sure to blame it on lack of sleep.
Posted by dichroic at March 19, 2001 10:31 AM