After learning to row and perfecting my technique and balance in a training single boat for almost a year, I finally decided it was time to graduate to a "skinny" style boat, the type normally used in competitions. Of course with this change came the next challenge, the realization that I should now begin working on getting good enough to race.
Finally, the day of my first novice race came. I had practiced for this day for the past few months and now I only had to put it to good use. We had travelled with my club to another city and I was now rowing a beautiful white skinny boat toward the starting dock. The boats in my race were called to align at the start line. Maneuvering in a tight space a skinny boat with its wide reaching oars is a task that can be daunting even for an experienced rower. Moreover, there were many referees and other competitors watching. I pulled all my power of concentration together and a few moments later I was happy to remark that I had a perfect alignment in the center of my lane. I rolled up my chair to the start position, a rather delicate balancing pose. It was time for me to calm down enough to hear the imminent cue that would unleash the explosive motion needed to the start the boat. The sky was blue, the water was calm, I could have not wished for any better conditions. I looked down the nicely buoy-aligned course, trying to visualize the finish line 1 K ahead, rapidly coming closer and closer to me. I felt the trepidation of the moment, like a race horse fidgeting before the gate opens, I had to close my eyes to calm down and get myself into 'the zone': "I can do this! I can do this!"
It seemed that it was taking way too long to hear the start signal. Instead, a voice booms through the loud speaker: "Atlanta Rowing club… we have a problem!" (?!?) That meant me! I opened my eyes, finally looking outside the zone I had put myself in. I noticed that all the referees on the shore were laughing… at me?!? The booming voice continued: "Atlanta Rowing club… you'll need to turn your boat… 180 degrees!" Taking another look at the other boats helped me finally realize that my boat was pointing in the wrong direction… If any rowers are reading this they had probably already understood my conundrum... for others it may not be evident, but one rows backward. I had aligned my boat at the start as if I was going to run, not row in the race! Yes, everybody was laughing, referees, competitors, I bet they all told the story about this novice rower who perfectly aligned her boat in the opposite direction that day, ready to crash it into the start dock. In fact, this was so stupid of me, that I started laughing about it myself! I laughed so hard that I completely relaxed. I turned the boat around quickly, I no longer worried about how competent I looked. There was nothing more stupid than what I had already done. I was still giggling when they finally called the start.
I rowed my first race laughing… at myself! The time seemed to fly away and I still remember the exhilaration I felt during that race as if it was yesterday. What was even more amazing is that I ended up winning that race!
Knowing what I know now after several years of rowing, I can pretty much attribute that first win to my ability to laugh at my naiveté. This allowed me to completely get over it and focus on rowing in the race. Making possibly the biggest, stupidest mistake right at the beginning, and then getting over it, freed me from worrying about any other possible inadequacies. This does not even take into account the fact that I had most likely disarmed my opponents: what competition could they possibly have expected from a novice who did not even know which way the boat was supposed to move?
If you are a novice, making mistakes is inevitable, but getting over it and over yourself, is up to you. Otherwise, if you are dealing with a novice, never discount one who feels that there is no face left to lose…
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