I am already reasonably strong. 32 years of running and cycling have given me big quads (ah. big quads. I will write about those some day). 12 marathons and thousands of miles of hiking have yielded vast amounts of endurance. And a bull-headed stubbornness, with a masochistic streak and a never-give-in-to-pain attitude has set the stage for my rowing career. The upper body strength is a new and curious phenomenon. I have never had definition in my arms, but hauling butt on an oar or an erg handle has created muscles that seem to have an intimidating effect in certain circles ("really?! you are going to deliver my baby?? You won't hurt it, will you?" and the timid mother quakes in fear...).
The problem with all this brute force, masochism, and pig-headed endurance is that not one of those matters if you flip the boat. You cannot win a race if you are upside down in the water.
And this is where technique comes in.
In order to row fast, I have learned you need the following qualities:
1-strong legs (see "big quads" above)
2-a strong back (or a couple of herniated discs)
3-strong arms (which never fit in women's shirts, btw. You have to reinvent your professional wardrobe from the boys large shirt section. I love my new Scooby-Doo button-down shirt.)
4-relaxed hands. Coaches always yell at you to "relax your grip!"--like the oars will just levitate back to you without you holding on to them... Once I rowed with my pinkies pointed up, like I was drinking high tea. I thought this would remind me to stay relaxed on the oar handles. My coach fell backward off his launch from laughing so hard. I no longer row like that.
5-rhythm and swing (that might be two separate qualities but they come together)--no, this is not something you learn on a dance floor. There is something about ratio, and a 3:1 recovery to drive. And god help you in a group boat, because you all have to have the same rhythm (no dancing to your own drummer, or you will check the boat), and the same swing. I remember in high school, we used to joke about swing. But boat swing is NOT a joking matter. My coach yelled at me for more swing in one boat, and less in another. My swing seems like a loner. Not well-matched. No in sync with the rest of the boat. Like in 7th grade dances--I would stand by the punch bowl and drink pink lemonade and watch the disco ball flash while the cool kids did something swingy together. In rhythm. And ratio.
I did drink a lot of pink lemonade that year.
6-good separation--like an uncontested divorce, this is unlikely to be achieved perfectly. Legs. Back. Arms. Arms. Back. Legs.
Doesn't anyone remember the song "the leg bone's connected to the back bone. The back bone's connected to the arm bone...". Separation is a theoretical construct. Physiology will not change because your coach says it has to. (But don't tell him that. He'll make you do 7x2k intervals at race pace.)
7-and, finally, PROPER TECHNIQUE
The definition of "PROPER TECHNIQUE" is curious. Nobody agrees on all the elements, nor on which is most important. Different coaches use different analogies--bicycle chain, hook the water, don't row over the barrel--and different phrases, but they all agree that there is no single rower out there who has perfected "PROPER TECHNIQUE" (except, from what I have see on the internet, Xeno Mueller thinks he has.)
So I want to learn "PROPER TECHNIQUE". I want to get there--like there is a "there" to get to. My personal quest for the Holy Grail of rowing.
Unobtainable at best. But well worth the pursuit.
This is my list of what to learn.
1-Puddles. I don't understand puddles. I know too much white water is bad. I know deep and swirly is good. But beyond that, what makes a puddle nice? What do you look for in a puddle? What does it show? Other than I should be pulling harder. And I should have proper technique. This is part of the "top-secret-knowledge" hoarded by rowing coaches, and never divulged, even on pain of death and torture. So I am giving up on the secret of puddles.
2-Slide control. "Slow the Slide!" every coach yells out with fury. Slow the slide, indeed. Now that is a freak of nature. Look out at our environment. There is nothing in nature that is slow sliding at all. When you build momentum, nature is very quick to take advantage of that to JUMP on its prey, or FLING the object with the momentum. I defy you to identify even one example from the natural world, in which an object in motion slows down just as the velocity is reaching its peak.
It. Doesn't. Happen.
This is proof that rowing is not natural. And yet, slowing the slide is probably one of the most agreed-upon components of "PROPER TECHNIQUE". So we rowers are required to defy logic. to defy the law of gravity. to defy nature itself. All in the name of PROPER TECHNIQUE.
ha.
ha.
3-Quick catches. Ok. I have seen stroke seats have tea parties at the catch. I have watched whole sit-coms between the slide and the drive. I get what a really slow catch is. You can't just slow the slide and then STOP. That is more unnatural than even a slow slide. Even a snail doesn't grind to a halt--she just moves steadily onward.
But lets think about the quick catch. You reach the last two inches of your slide-STILL MOVING INTO THE STERN--and you are supposed to drop your oar before the end of that motion and in one fraction of a fraction of a second just as you change direction exactly 180 degrees. Yet another breach of the laws of nature.
This is not what your oar wants to do. This is not what your body wants to do. This is not what your brain wants to do. In fact, they all want to wait, politely, until the slide has stopped moving, before carefully inserting the blade into the water, making as little splash as possible. And then they want to wait some more until they feel ready to muster up the strength to drive that oar through the water, pressing their legs down to the finish. And then they want to congratulate themselves on a job well done. And only then will they scurry back up the slide--QUICKLY--to try again.
But lets think about the quick catch. You reach the last two inches of your slide-STILL MOVING INTO THE STERN--and you are supposed to drop your oar before the end of that motion and in one fraction of a fraction of a second just as you change direction exactly 180 degrees. Yet another breach of the laws of nature.
This is not what your oar wants to do. This is not what your body wants to do. This is not what your brain wants to do. In fact, they all want to wait, politely, until the slide has stopped moving, before carefully inserting the blade into the water, making as little splash as possible. And then they want to wait some more until they feel ready to muster up the strength to drive that oar through the water, pressing their legs down to the finish. And then they want to congratulate themselves on a job well done. And only then will they scurry back up the slide--QUICKLY--to try again.
As someone who has a LOT of backsplash, I can tell you that nobody sitting behind you wants you to develop that backsplash. Folks have developed special rainwear to don when rowing behind Robyn. They swear up and down at me. They bring shampoo into the boat to wash their hair from all that showering backslash.
And yet every coach says "backsplash is good".
They are lying. I don't know enough yet to figure out HOW they are lying, but I know they are. It is the great coaching conspiracy against Robyn--to keep me from ever attaining that PROPER TECHNIQUE.
Whatever.
So I spend 6 days a week rowing. In sweep boats and sculls. In group boats and singles. In the heat and in the rain. I work on fast hands away, slowing the slide, quick catches and backsplash. I am on my life-long quest for technique. And a lot of strength. A little self-hate. A bit of lunacy. But mostly technique.
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