Spoiling the magic

Went out on the river for my daily dose of nature wonderment: water, sky, woods, are always soothing and beautiful, familiar, yet slightly different every day. Yesterday turned out to be one of those days when the river is really magical. Maybe it was something about the angle at which the sun hit the water at this time of the year, maybe the air temperature, or something in the life cycle of the river creatures... I found myself gliding on an opalescent mirror reflecting hundreds of flickering silver dots jumping out of the water, a river version of exuberant fireflies. In the distance now and then a massive fish would pierce the unctuous liquid mirror without disturbing it and then fall back with a satisfied resounding splash. What a show!

Today I went back for an encore to the same place, at the same time of the day. The magic was gone! How could this be? Looked around, all the elements were there, but no live silver dancing above the water, no big fishes in sight. I finally realized that one element had been added to the mix: an ever so slight breeze was streaking the water surface creating tiny ruffles. Seems the presence of these tiny imperfections was all it took to blur small fishes’ vision, enough to make them stay put. The magic cycle of life was interrupted .

Today small and big fishes remained hungrier.
I was left wanting for the magic to happen.
The flies will live to see another day.

A view “to live for”…

My recent experience with trying to measure up against the mighty Potomac provided the most vivid illustration of this twist of the phrase ”to die for” , which had apparently stuck in my brain after hearing it a while back. Those who had similarly gone through serious situations, fearing for their life, yet in the same time feeling elated, will probably relate. No, I’m not going to recount a pure adrenaline-rush episode some seek on purpose, like plunging at the end of bungee cord. Mine was a less contrived occurrence requiring me to put up a good fight, the reward was not only staying alive but feeling overjoyed about being alive (something I would otherwise take for granted).

My professional career created the opportunity to further expand my… rowing horizons. As of April I became a guest member of the Potomac Boat Center in DC, one of the most prestigious and venerable US rowing clubs, situated on the banks of one of the mightiest North American rivers. After a long winter during which I was reduced to sadly contemplating my little frozen lake, I could not wait one more second to experience water in its liquid form. On my first day as a member, I had been summoned to launch my boat well before the crack of dawn, something I never do back home. I was told the basic rules (needed to use boat lights to be noticed, which side I was allowed to navigate on) and some useful information (how far to the last bridge and ‘current is strong today’).

The mighty Potomac, further inflated by the heavy rain in the last few days, was glowing seductively under the full moon, so there I went, taking on it in a light weight single boat. The power differential was a bit intimidating, but the water seemed rather smooth, and the easy going with its flow enhanced the whole magic of the new experience and my belief that “I can do this”… However, after navigating a couple of turns (in the dark!) the water became very rough just before having to pass under a series of bridges. All of the sudden I was sucked into a vortex, the boat was accelerating toward a huge pillar. I rapidly pulled in my oar (which normally hangs more the 6 feet on the side of the boat) completely into the oarlock to prevent it from being snapped. Of course, the boat was now completely unbalanced so I instinctively leaned overboard on the other side while we were twirling together out of control toward the pillar.

I used the blade as a rudder and just when the light boat was about to crash into the pillar, instead of avoiding it, I planted my blade into the pillar and began to push and extend again the oar redirecting the force to push us away from the center of the vortex. Seemed like time stood still, yet the locked dance with the pillar might have taken only a few seconds, then all of the sudden we were set free of its embrace. If I had to plan it, I would probably not been able to anticipate the moves needed to keep us afloat. The experience of less dramatic yet various challenges during the past years somehow combined into an instinctive knowledge of how to maintain the balance. Probably even more importantly, I distinctly remember becoming more calm and deliberate as the outside world started to spin around me. I also remember wondering, almost as if I was looking at myself: “how comes I am still riding above the water?” It was a strange feeling of completely being into the moment, yet rationally thinking about it as if observing if from the outside.
The last couple of bridges I navigated as in trance, then I hit again open water, seemingly reaching the proposed goal for the day and such decided it was time to turn back. The first signs of light helped avoid getting close to the pillars again. Working now against the current, I was making slow progress. Then, the wind really picked up.

My boat, being close to the shore hit by the wind, began to briskly jump up and down on the valleys and hills created by the combined direct and reflected waves. My back was now swept by cold waves, that swept of the boat, soon the hull was completely filled with water, and my legs and feet became submerged. I was pulling my oars very hard threading through the water but it felt as if I was exercising on a stationary rowing machine. I could now see the shadows of some lone runners making good progress on the shore while I was apparently not moving at all; the Potomac was pulling every trick to just not let me go back. I remember feeling my legs were frozen, I began worrying that my back will lock, and although the adrenaline was still giving me strength to continue, I began to feel some despair.

Then… a fire lit the sky and the water, and I found myself under an enormous pink dome. Flocks of black birds began swarming the sky, and I could now make out the white lace of the blooming cherry trees on the shore. I fixated on their joyous image then realized that I was very slowly, but surely, progressing against their position. That made me happy and reassured that if I just continued I would eventually get back to the dock. I then also began to look beyond my immediate surroundings. The DC monuments looked truly majestic from the water, their light stone glowing against the fiery sky background. I thought: 'had I given in to the treacherous vortex earlier, I would have missed all of this. I’m so lucky to be alive, here, at this very moment to see this view from such a great vantage point. This was indeed a “view to live for!”’ and felt elated. I swear the obelisk even winked his red eye reassuringly at me and I smiled back at it. I knew that I will be OK, despite both the current and wind fighting against me, and the extra-liquid weight I had to carry all the way back in my boat. I grew accustomed to the rhythmic sweep of the waves getting all the way up around my waist, then over the boat’s hull, then dissipating back into the rest. I could not go any deeper than that, right? I had been literally integrated by the Potomac. Now, I knew it was just a matter of keeping going and the view was so beautiful that I did not mind moving so slowly.

When I finally reached back to the dock, the boat captain was standing waiting for me, visibly worried. As soon as he had helped me flip the boat to empty all the water, he launched into a quick series of questions: why did I go beyond the bridges? Didn’t I know that even a big 8+ boat got snapped in two by the pillars in such high current and they had to fish the rowers out the water? Did I realize I was the only single boat out there this morning? Didn’t I know it was acceptable in such a life threatening situation to break the traffic rules, why didn’t I row on the “wrong” side to minimize the effects of the wind? I looked at him, lots of answers and more questions running through my mind (why did he immediately tell me how many miles past the last bridge which I interpreted as a suggested trip, why didn’t he caution me about the pillars’ vortex, how could I already know I was allowed to break the traffic rules and not be expelled from the club?) But, then I took another look at the fiery Potomac and decided to stick with the essential. I replied:

“Sorry, just got carried away”…

Get inspired

Being inspired by others is one of the most helpful things in achieving our hard to reach goals.

I have already shared my struggle to keep up my daily exercise routine during this time when I can’t go out on the water… It is difficult to block-off the time and in addition I find erg-ing (using a rowing machine indoors) just plain hard to do! I needed to work diligently on finding ways ("Start with the end in sight") to continue to use the rowing machine, but overall it did not seem to get any more enjoyable or any easier, especially with the long-drawn-out winter this year. No wonder I don’t seem to get any better at it! Thus, it may come across as odd that when I learned of an Indoor Rowing Championship “regatta” in my city, I decided to participate.

I have been previously to a grand total of two similar events. At the first one that happened ten or so years ago, I was able to buy my rowing machine at a discount (after being used during the competition). The second indoor rowing competition took place 6 yrs ago almost to the day. I let myself being talked into a “walk-in,” meaning I just showed up and rowed (no, I did not do great there); however, I have a pleasant memory of their atmosphere, seemingly positively charged from all the energy of those serious about competing. So, I decided to go get energized about erg-ing! Little did I know that I would not only immerse myself in an energizing crowd, but I would also meet two truly inspiring people.

Paul Randall will turn 93 this year and competed to defend his world champion title in the 90-95 yo category. I can say that he is the most energetic 90+ person I personally ever met. I watched in awe as he rowed the physically taxing 2K course and took a couple of pictures of him (stretching before the start and an "action" picture).

After his race I also took the opportunity to meet and congratulate him. He indicated it was not a ‘big deal’ that he beat the time required to qualify for the finals, as he explained it, he had been specifically training for this event since August. I caught myself before asking him “of which year”? But I did ask about his potential association with Indiana University, as he was wearing an academic athletic tank top. His explanation indicated that he was not only physically fit but also very witty. He said ‘Yes, I am an Alumn’ and then immediately followed ‘and I make sure I take good advantage of it! I called them up and asked if they were going to keep their promise to give me 1% for each year since I graduated. I pointed out to them that might mean 50% off"... He paused and said with a smile: “They checked their files and came back to say, ‘In fact, Mr. Randall, you are entitled to 59%. We will honor our pledge. We are not too worried, you are the only one in your age group who is still buying athletic gear!” Paul is on his way to Boston to defend his world title at the World Indoor Rowing Championships (also known as C.R.A.S.H.-b). A much younger heavy set guy sitting in the audience commented in response to my expressed admiration, “Well, sure he can be the champion, he probably does not have much competition in his age group.” To which I said, “Yes, you are likely right, but isn’t that exactly what a champion is, someone who greatly outdoes the competition?” I also thought: Will you start training to see what it really takes? Btw, while many rowers compete in the indoors events, it is not necessary to be one to do very well on an erg which eliminates the need to be able to balance the boat on the water while simultaneously pulling hard.

The other inspiring person I met is at the other end of the age spectrum. Mika Baugh is 19. I was so lucky to crash after my own race (about lessons learned from that adventure in a future post!) on a bench next to her proud grandfather. He seemed so overjoyed that he turned toward me and said: “My granddaughter is competing today and she is my hero!” Sounded as a rather surprising statement until he told me that Mika is an A student (was Valedictorian) and a star athlete at Indiana University. He added that Mika is also the President of the National Federation of the Blind of Indiana Student Division. And yes, Mika is blind. I decided that I needed to stay longer so that I could cheer for her. She not only competed, but also coached another young woman who seemed to be the only African American competitor. I received the permission of her mother and grandfather to publicly share my own admiration for Mika. They also introduced me to Mika after her race. Exactly as her family had warned me, she too acted as it was not a big deal that she had competed and qualified for the Adaptive rowing world finals in Boston. She however shared the fact that, sadly, she will not make the trip due to a shortage of funds.

Witnessing the strength of the human spirit in overcoming such great odds filled me with awe and brought me to tears – of joy! So, back to my erg-ing… let’s hear again, what was your excuse, Z?

Putting it all together – the “renaissance” competitor

The other weekend I went to cheer for friends (and secretly figure out if it was something I should consider…) participating in a “mini” triathlon that includes swimming (0.5 mi=750 m), biking (12.4 mi=20 Km), and running (3.1 mi = 5 km). The display of human determination and energy was amazing and inspiring. So many things blew me away that it was hard to rank them, so here are some in no particular order:

• Each of parts taken separately is a challenge in itself to the average person. All these people – and there were a few hundred - had been willing to train for and able to compete in all three of them.
  
• Beyond the energy expenditure needed, the mini-triathlon requires also the willingness to deal with the unpredictable – weather/water conditions - and the predictable discomfort. They not only had to bike and run after swimming, but they also did it in wet wear!
  
• Most people I talked to at the end of the race appeared to be competing against themselves, foremost keeping track of their own progress: some had competed previously, many were planning to train and come back within the next months. While there were enthusiastic cheers for every one crossing the finish line - indeed a major achievement, no prizes or trophies were distributed…
  
• Some of the people did not fit the “image” of the athlete, some appeared to be overweight, some had some sort of clear movement impairment, most were beyond the age associated with physical prowess. I was reminded again how misleading the appearances can be.

Moreover, I could not help but admire not only the technical excellence and endurance, but also the overall preparedness and the ability to think clearly under stress of these athletes. In fact, if I had to pick one thing that was the most amazing to me while watching this challenge – it was the “behind the scenes” competitors’ ability to manage the “transition time”. I understand that the times needed to don the biking gear after getting out of the water, walk the bike to the start line, then shed it all for the running shoes, were all added to the overall time. No doubt a lot of preparation went into having just was needed in terms of different gear pieces. Add to that laying down all these items and then donning or shedding them in the right order, when tired and with the clock ticking, was nothing short of a major tactical system. Way too cool, I just discovered a check list for triathlon transitions ! I’d say the handling of the swift and efficient transition from one challenge to the next under stress is one of the most difficult to find, but probably most useful abilities in the business world these days.

This made me think that the tri-athletes would likely do very well in whatever they put their minds to. No matter how these people appeared at first sight, they all had determination, endurance, versatility, clarity of mind under stressful conditions and used these qualities to constantly challenge their own abilities to get better. I wonder how frequently such transferable skills are taken into account when people are assessed for hiring or assigned professional responsibilities…

"Get over yourself": be able to laugh at yourself

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…

Going against the wind

Seems that if I am on the water on a windy day, no matter which way I need to row, somehow I always end up going against the wind! A big challenge, especially for the delicate balance of a one person boat, as opposed to sailing, where the wind is your friend. The wind ruffles the water which in turn messes up with my ability to steady my boat. Worse, when rowing against it, the wind pushes into my back and my oars, creating tremendous resistance against moving the boat forward (if you are reading this and wondering what am I talking about: the rower’ back is toward the leading end of a rowing boat).

So what’s one to do when having to row against a strong wind? I had asked the rowing camp coaches this question. They all gave me a large smile and a halfway serious answer: “You do not leave the dock!” ...“But what if I have no choice” I insisted, “what if the wind starts after I am already on the water and I have to make it back safely, or what if I had already signed up to compete in a race and day turns out to be windy?” I got no better answer after that either, probably the coaches were worried about sending a beginner into the wind. So I persisted any chance I got, I asked the more experienced rowers for their advice. Best technical advice came from faraway rowing friends, Viking descendants, who shared their tips perfected from routinely braving the Nordic waters (e.g., to decrease resistance, shorten the time the oars are out of the water and work like a sail against the wind). I turns out it was really good I had insisted asking this question beforehand, as indeed, I soon found myself in dire need to row in tough weather conditions. I diligently tested all advice I had received. After perfecting my approach to rowing in stormy conditions for a few years, I can finally offer my own view about the main “secret” of braving adverse external conditions. More importantly, I came to the realization I could apply the same principles to help me get through tough times in my personal and professional life.

I found that what matters most while having to brave harsh external conditions is discovering and engaging one’s internal “gyroscope”. We all have one! My brush with Yoga and Pilates helped me to conscientiously engage my center of gravity (located I feel at the center of my body, also called the “core”) to maintain my balance in such testing times. I found that being able to concentrate on my core brings amazing stability at times when the rest of the world seems to be in turmoil. When rowing, the wind is violently rocking my boat side to side, and my oars hit or catch unevenly the waves on the two sides: sometimes I miss my catch, sometimes I go too deep into the water. Boat becomes frighteningly unsettled. On top of it, due to strong wind resistance I row in place, it’s like being in a nightmare I cannot escape! Then, I conscientiously overcome my panic response to the powerful outside influences and I concentrate on bringing all my power into my own center. I begin to feel how this becomes very heavy: I am now pinned down solidly by gravity. All of the sudden I seem to be connected to the Earth's core by an invisible string stretched just enough to allow me to smoothly glide on its curving surface. My own center is stable, even as the whole world around me seems to whirl around in a storm. The previously awful hauling slowly fades away into the periphery of my perception, as I smoothly and silently slide between air and water. The wind feels just a fast rush of cold air on my skin and it is now exhilarating. I return safely to the dock and it feels good, really good. I was able to mount the extra muscle power to overcome elements’ resistance and I was able to keep my mental cool.

Thus I have learned "mind over matter" from my "mind over water" technique. The willingness to prepare for and then to take the challenge taught me to summon my core power: strengths, beliefs, values, and hopes, to minimize the influence of external adversity, and to actually turn challenge into a personal victory. I think this might resonate also with martial arts philosophy? I will have to check and come back on that.

For now, I think I could go ahead allow myself to have that brownie with my hot coffee.