One of the factors that weighed on my decision to learn to row was safety. Water was softer than concrete, and you didn't have to worry about some inattentive idiot in a motor vehicle running you down while busy text messaging. There appeared to be a very limited set of external X factors that could mess up ones day. But I had forgotten about the greatest X factor of all. My own clumsiness........
I arrived at the rowing club ready for action. I met my instructor, and my first step was learning the basic body movements of a stroke on a rowing machine. The initial pull came from your quadriceps, followed by the back and finally the arms. The return was the exact opposite, arms forward, back forward and when the elbows were ahead of your knees, legs forward. After a couple of minutes, I got the hang of the stroke basics and I sensed that my body was quite powerful, and that I had the raw ponies to take me fast......
The second step was getting the gear to the dock. This was going to be fun. Dressed in tight clothing to show off the new body, and getting to carry the oars to the dock. Peacock hour had arrived:) Next came carrying the racing scull to the dock. Too bad that it was cold and I had to have my wick away jerseys on or it would have been time for some slutty back poses...... Place the scull in the water.
Finally the pre-rowing scull setup and safety lesson. Lock the oars into the oarlock that is on the end of the outriggers. Move the seat to the very back position on the slide. Grab both oar handles and move sideways from the dock to place right foot on the right footrest followed by lowering ones buttocks to the sliding seat, followed by taking the left foot off the dock and placing it in the left footrest. Holding both oar handles in one hand use the free hand to strap your feet into the footrests so that they are tied down firmly. Most important of all, always hold on to you oar handles with YOUR THUMBS PLANTED FIRMLY OVER THE END........
The closest analogy I could think of for operating a single racing scull is sitting on a skateboard, with your feet strapped firmly to a second skateboard and holding a balance pole while moving down a high wire tightrope backwards....... Not at all what I had originally expected..... The oars were your sole means of steering, your sole means of propulsion and your primary means of balance. As long as the oars were out, your hands were firmly on the handles and your thumbs were securely on the ends you were able to maintain balance provided you did not have your spine forward of the oar handles.
I started rowing away from the dock starting purely with arm motion until I got comfortable with it, and eventually you would introduce the back motions and finally the leg motions. Everything was going well so far, I had a basic stroke down, I had figured out how to use the oar blade, and I learned how to stop the scull quickly.
Now came the fun part, learning how to turn. A single racing scull has no rudder, you turn using the oars. The simplest turn involves holding one oar out stationary and perpendicular from the scull all the way out with the blade in the flat position for balance, while making small strokes with the other oar to effect steering. As long as you keep your hands firmly on the handles with your thumbs on the end of the oars you were OK so long as your spine did not go fore of the oar handle.
With my coordination I suddenly found myself with my spine ahead of the right oar handle. When caught in that situation, you immediately move you spine back, and your arms forward while holding on to the oars, so as to achieve a balance state. I on the other hand in a moment of panic let go of the oars and tried to reach for both outriggers while lowering my centre of gravity in the hopes that this would help me gain stability. Big mistake.
I got the right oar handle jammed against my rib and it caught on my Mandex jersey while my upper body weight was headed towards the outriggers. I inadvertently turned the oar into an uncontrollable lever with one of my ribs becoming an involuntary fulcrum. I felt two cracks occur in rapid succession, the first was my rib while the second was the outrigger snapping followed by the scull flipping over with me strapped in it. My worst fear had come to fruition, I was underwater in an upside down racing scull in a highly polluted body of water with my feet strapped above my head. It was pitch black but luckily I had practiced this worst case scenario over and over again without a boat in a public swimming pool pretending to unstrap my feet upside down under water with my eyes closed. I unstrapped my feet, swam to the surface of the water and pulled myself over to the flipped over scull and held on for life.
The instructor seeing what happened sped over in the safety dinghy, and told me to swim over to him, and he would get me to the dock. I swam to him, got pulled from the inner harbour, and made it safely to the dock. I was cold, numb, wet and the adrenaline was pumping. I did not feel anything wrong at the time. We got another scull ready and I started to row again. I was enjoying myself thoroughly, and even though I was freezing cold and wet, I was trying to race the harbour ferry. I kept rowing for another hour and a half, and on my way back to the dock, I fell into the drink the second time. Luckily I didn't wreck one of the clubs sculls this time.
I had finished day one of the two day adult "Learn to Row" lesson. I had succeeded in tying the club record for trips into the harbour by a newbie and I was only halfway through the lesson. I had also succeeded in snapping a carbon fibre outrigger, and fracturing my lower right floating rib. So much for my pre-conception of rowing being safer than cycling.
Thank goodness that modern science has come up with synthetic opiates, or I would be in unbearable pain. What I can say is that I have never had as much fun with my clothes on as I had rowing a single racing scull. I can't wait for my rib to heal enough so I can get back onto the water and complete my adults beginners rowing class.
Being a pure blooded Hercegovian means being built near indestructible, being built to sink, and being foolhardy enough to keep trying out to see how close to indestructible one is. Thank you Mom and Dad for my genes......
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