That elusive moment

Rowing gives me the greatest pleasure and the greatest pain. I laugh about the pain, the challenge, the frustration. Most of my blog posts are about the humiliation and struggle. Because most of my rowing time is spent immersed in that imperfection.

But in those elusive microseconds of perfect rowing, there is a zen that lasts forever, calling me back to the river, again and again.

Today, the water is flat. The wind is calm. My partner and I move together.

Yes, we have our struggles, we reach at the catch, we dig with our port oars, and we veer into bridges (that is my fault, not hers). But on those straight-a-ways, when we remember to keep our oars and our seats in sync, when we keep our catches calm and our finishes quiet, when we apply equal power with our legs, when we pop! the drive, and slow the recovery, we are dancing with the boat, with the water, with the world.

When asked why I love rowing, it is mornings like these that I know.

Rowing is like breathing deeply, calmly, in profound and rhythmic sighs of contentment. The release of tension, and the thrill of power. Doing this well in a double means you have learned to dance together with the shell. There is some leading and following, but mostly feeling, anticipating, responding. The run of the boat coincides perfectly with the slide, the connection of the oars accelerates the speed of the hull without a shiver of break in the rhythm. Our muscles move to the tempo of the dance, our breathing is part of the song.

That is the elusive moment--that glimpse of nirvana, that promise of perfection.

That is why I row.