Again, no yoghurts today. I am beginning to wonder if I might have bought too many. I don't know if I want to eat yoghurt ever again.It might stick in my craw. Whatever that is.
I had an early morning rowing training session with our coach, Martin. I like to think he had singled me out for individual attention because he recognised that I am clearly the best rower he has ever seen (and this is a man who has rowed - and won a gold medal- with Sir Steve Redgrave) and that with a bit of extra training I can forget about this stupid frippery of a "celebrity" boat race and perform on the Olympic stage where I belong.
In order to prevent me from getting too big-headed everyone kind of made out that I needed a one-on-one session because I hadn't been as quick to pick up the technique as everyone else. But no-one was fooled: we all knew why I was really there.
As we prepared to get our tiny two seater boat into the water, Martin told me that if we were to fall in I should just pull the release string on the shoes (these are built in to the base of the craft and you simply slip your unclad feet into them. Martin said that he didn't even bother to do them up in the first place) and stay with the boat and wait to be picked up by the launch that was accompanying us. I thought this was a bit weird, as he'd never mentioned the idea of capsizing during any of our other sessions. But I trusted Martin, knowing that he would never place me in any danger.
Once on the water I began to see why he had been concerned. A pair is a lot less stable than any of the other boats I've been on. Within minutes of setting of this was amply demonstrated when I rowed a little loosely and almost catapulted Martin into the water. At this point he decided he would do his shoes up after all.
Once we got going properly though we had no other serious incident. Without the pressure of not letting down the rest of the crew I was able to perfect my (practically already perfect) technique and with a gold medal winner behind me, we were soon whizzing through the water, like a slightly sluggish and possibly mortally wounded salmon. Despite the complexity and variety of movements required for every stroke, I managed to get an understanding of what was expected of me and on about one in every thirty strokes I got nearly all those things right. Certainly by the end of it I felt a lot more confident and Martin seen surprised and genuinely delighted. It was almost as if when we'd got in the boat he had thought I was a bit rubbish and I'd somehow surprised him. Of course he was just keeping up the pretence.
When we got ashore he told me that rowing in a pair is one of the hardest things a rower has to do and that anyone with any knowledge or experience of rowing would have avoided attempting such a thing for months if not years. He even said that he hadn't been sure that it was a good idea to attempt it himself; he'd hoped to use a wider and more stable boat. Had I had any idea what was going on, he said, I would have refused to take part in such an endeavour. Luckily I had no idea and simply trusted my leader that this was the right thing to do. Ignorance is strength.
Although I am far from proficient it is immensely rewarding to be taking up this ridiculously difficult challenge; I am really glad that I agreed to do it.
And when I'm receiving my silver medal at the 2004 Olympics (only silver this time, I have to be realistic), then I know all the hard work and the risks will have been worth it.
