I have worked diligently on technique and rhythm over the past year of sculling. I have been coached on my catches, on my drives, on my releases and on my recoveries. I have been told to work on my fast hands away, and my body prep. I have been given 395 different faults to focus on improving. And I have really really tried to perfect them.
I have a new coach this year. Mike. He's kinda nice for a coach. I am not used to that. Mike says "don't worry so much, Robyn. Just row." At first, I thought he was benign, that being coached by Mike would be like going to Santa and asking for presents. Santa pats me on the head, smiles and promises me that new bicycle and hands me a candy cane. I figured this new line of coaching could be fun.
Until the second day, when Mike accuses me of being a perfectionist.
He says it like it is a bad thing. Like a personality flaw. Like a disease. Like maybe I should take medication for it.
I am confused. I thought rowing was all about perfecting the technique. Reaching for that "elusive stroke". Attaining something higher. More divine. More like Xeno Mueller. More like flying.
Mike sits back on his launch and shakes his head sadly at me. "Robyn, I am so lucky I am not a perfectionist."
And I feel shame. For I know I am a pathetic perfectionist. And now, I suspect that it is getting in the way of my ever becoming a rower. I will never soar through the water, with grace and ease.
I weigh enough, and tears well up in my eyes. (this is something else about Mike. My other coaches have been hard-ass tail-whompers, tapping into my anger, making me feel tough, which means I would NEVER give them the satisfaction of seeing me cry. But Mike's disarming kindness and pity triggers something in my tear-ducts, and I find I am frequently swallowing hard to look tough. Damn him for not yelling more.)
So as I swallow back those tears, I ask him to explain.
And here is what I learn.
The experience of rowing will never be perfect.
Yes, it is ok to try for a perfect stroke or two here and there.
No, you should not do this on every row, or you will not enjoy what you are doing.
Expecting perfection will hold you back from feeling the progress you have made.
"Robyn, sometimes, you just have to go out and row. Ugly, fast, wonky, but row. Make it yours."
And he makes me row with a rush up the slide. He makes me row on the square, deliberately dragging the bottom of my oars on the water. He makes me row at ridiculously high stroke rates. (I will write about high strokes rates another time). And my rowing gets ugly. It is frustrating. It is awful. It is no fun. It is not perfect.
Mike says "that's good. Now, be gentle at the catch. Just that. Make that catch smooth and soft."
So, after a bit, I figure out how to smooth out the catch. At a high stroke rate. And it is ugly. Except some strokes which are ok. They feel pretty good. I begin to smile. My single is picking up speed, and Mike has to move the throttle forward on his launch to keep up.
I keep going. It isn't too awful. I am rowing fast. Ugly, but fast.
Woooo-hooo! :) It feels a little like flying! Not like a blue heron--more like a duck. Flap flap flap flap. But airborne nonetheless.
I have never dreamed of flying like a duck. I dream of geese, of herons, of eagles. Those idyllic symbols of grace. That is my perfectionist vision.
Today I learned how to fly like a duck. Imperfect, funky, amusing, but equally aloft. Which turns out not to be so bad after all.
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