The conditions were relentless this morning, rainy, windy etc. Had my best rowing coach’s voice bouncing around in my head climbing the rise coming away from my house…’You row the conditions. The conditions don’t row you.’ Its gems like this one, implanted at 16, that can convince an otherwise smart person to go for a training ride in inclement weather. Thanks Bill.
I did what I had time for: 20 miles down to Yunk and back up, including going up Shawmont and Bells Mills rds. When I arrived home, I came around back, took my gloves off to fish my key out of my jacket and open my back door. And thats when I remembered.
Spring 1991. Same kind of weather as today. Shitty, basically. We were out in 8s. 4 of them. Maybe we were doing 3 x 1500 race rehearsal, the standard wednesday workout. Everyone launched from the Penn AC docks in full gear: turtleneck, jersey, sweats, shell. (This is before the advent of breathable base layers and other related space age shit.)
After the first piece was done, after the motors had been revved, we rowed to the twin stones and spun it to get lined up again. Everyone had taken a layer or two off at this point. Since we had a competent coxswain, we tended to be lined up first. I’d sit there, oar handle across my lap, watching everyone else get set up…and the steam coming off everyone around me.
It occurred to me that we all looked like overheated cars in the desert. Except that we were floating on a river and about to clobber the hell out of each other again.
Anyway, as I was about to open the door, thats when I noticed that my hands were steaming.
I hadn’t recalled the steam on the river in a long long time. Unexpected and small, but a good reward for today’s ride.
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