This weekend Martin, my boat coach, has made me go out as the bow member of two "proper" crews. This has been a very intimidating experience, taking me out of what Martin refers to as my "safety zone". It is all very well failing to row well in a boat of people who are also largely quite rubbish, but to be the one person spoiling things for an otherwise fairly competent crew is quite intimidating. Yesterday I was in an eight, behind everyone else so they couldn't directly see how out of sync I was with them, but today I was in a four, where there is really no-where to hide. If you're unbalanced or missing the stroke then everyone knows about it. I spent most of the time on the water worrying that I was wasting everyone else's time, but apparently I made some improvement.
But this discombubulating experience no doubt explains the fairly bizarre dream I had last night. I was being put into a crew in an eight seater canoe, I didn't know any of the other canoeists and this time I was at the front. I was given one of those paddles that I can best describe as resembling the stick that comes with a Solero ice cream, which immediately confused me as it wasn't what I was used to. On top of this I was facing forwards which was against everything I had so far learned. I was very scared as the boat took to the river.
Then without me really noticing the transition I realised that the canoe was effortlessly gliding down a corridor. There was no water in the corridor, it was just a corridor. Things were going OK and we seemed to be making good progress over the carpet. We then came to a small set of stairs which we descended quite efficiently. I felt the whoosh of the descent; it was quite exhilarating. A little further on there was a choice of two sets of stairs to go down. As I was at the stern I had to make the decision about which course we steered and I went right. This set of steps was at a much greater incline. I rather enjoyed the rollercoaster sensation, but there were shouts and some kind of commotion behind me. I looked around to see that six of the seats behind me were now empty. As we got to the bottom of the stairs we came to a halt and the other two members of my crew (hey, it was a dream, I can't help it if the maths is wrong. Perhaps the canoe had a cox) berated me for my terrible decision to go right and explained that it had resulted in the untimely deaths of six of their friends. It was quite upsetting.
Obviously, given the events of the weekend, this dream clearly demonstrates both my fear of being thrust into a crew of strangers (and spoiling things for them quite spectacularly) and also of rowing itself. As I mentioned when I was in Finland I have always had a mild phobia of boats and the boats I am currently rowing on are fairly unstable. Just one mistake could result in at least a nasty drenching for everyone in the boat and possibly worse. It is great to be facing this fear and hopefully in the coming week (our intensive boat camp starts on Monday), I will conquer it. But the dream also reveals my natural reticence about new people and new experiences.
I left this morning's session feeling a bit down about how rubbish I had been and about how unsettling it was to have had to row with strangers. I felt a bit cross with Martin for putting me in the situation (especially given that no-one else from my crew had been able to make it down this Sunday morning). But when I thought about it I realised that I had learnt some stuff and that being forced into an uncomfortable and unwanted scenario had been very educational. This whole boat race idea is so crazy and difficult (I don't think you can really appreciate to what extent this is true unless you have rowed yourself. It's so much more complicated than the professionals make it look) that the only way we are going to be prepared to take part in a week and a half is to be pushed beyond our limits of endurance and comfort. And at least I didn't kill anyone. Well not yet.
Martin is a very clever man. And I am really looking forward to being back with my own crew tomorrow. In fact, tomorrow will be the first time we have ever rowed together as an eight (or a nine, including Gandalf Aitken). I am filled with excitement and trepidation. I can only begin to imagine how hard we are going to have to work and how much pain we're going to go through.
But if Martin tries to get us to row indoors then I am going to have nothing to do with it.
