60 Seconds in Every Minute

"'Oh! do not attack me with your watch. A watch is always too fast or too slow. I cannot be dictated to by a watch,' said Fanny." 

From Mansfield Park By Jane Austen

Have you ever noticed that while every minute has sixty seconds, not every minute passes at the same rate? Day one of rowing trials felt like the clock couldn't decide on a consistent speed at which to travel.
After Research Methods I hung out with some of my Writing for Children cohorts at a coffee shop in an attempted to study. Each time I glanced at the clock I couldn't believe how rapidly the hands progressed. Giving myself plenty of time to get changed and settled, I left my friends to "study" for their Feminist Theory class later that evening (a class I am so glad I didn't sign up for), I tromped to the Sports Centre. After methodically preparing myself, I glanced up at the clock, shocked that only ten minutes had passed - I still had ten minutes until erg testing. I took my second dose of Rescue Remedy of the day (I found it in a regular pharmacy, Mom, aren't you jealous!), in an attempt to relieve some of my stress.

Not wanting to sit around the balcony with who know who, I sat watching two guys play badminton with the intention of going to the ergs when I only had five minutes until the scheduled testing time. The knot in my stomach twisted into a rather impressive sailors knot as I watched the birdie bounce back and forth. Each minute felt like an eternity. I watched the badminton game for as long as I could with out glancing at the clock - only to find that it said the exact same time as last time I looked.
Finally, the clock read 15:25. I took a deep breath and headed to the erg balcony. I got there and...there were only men...I waited until 15:32. Something wasn't right. I went back to my locker and pulled up Facebook. Yup, I had the wrong time - erg testing was at 17:30. I had to wait two more hours! Can I tell you how much I dislike the use of 24 hour time system? Seriously, how difficult is it to just put an AM or PM behind the number?
The two hours drug by as I attempted to read Dorothy Wordsworth's (yes, his sister) journal account of visiting Italy. It's even more boring than it sounds, don't worry. Finally the correct time rolled around and I headed back to the erg balcony (after another dose of Rescue Remedy, mind you).
A collection of girls were sitting on the floor, all looking as anxious as I felt. A girl who'd been on my rowing outing over the weekend looked over at me and asked, "you nervous?" "Yup," I stated. "Me, too." We shared a tentative smile and continued to make awkward small talk. It's weird, everyone in the room kinda hoped that everyone else would choke, yet at the same time were trying to encourage each other. The air crackled with tension and a slight competitive edge.
I put myself in the first group on the ergs. We set our digital trackers. 1000 meters. Grasping the handle we wait. Lara signals the start. A dozen girls start rowing as if our lives depend on it. I focus on my breathing. In and out, in and out. I can't watch the clock. I have to push my body to its breaking point. 500 meters done. Not even two minutes. Good. Keep Pushing. My legs start to burn. I'm keeping a steady pace. I'm loosing it. My lungs start to burn. Breathe! 200 meters left. So Close! I reach deep inside.My tank's nearly empty. DONE! I look at the clock...3:55! Under four minutes! First girl done! I think I'm going to be sick. Why didn't I bring a water bottle?

The gauntlet is down. Bring it on girls! I did everything I could for this part of the trails. I am proud of my effort and hope that it is enough. Only time will tell. Two day, then I'll know.