Rowing?

“I ran three miles, staggered into the lobby, and took the elevator back to my apartment. No point to overdoing this exercise junk." (Stephanie Plum)
From Two for the Dough By Janet Evanovich

So as part of my England Engagement Plan I decided to join the rowing team. Not wanting to commit to a new sport with absolutely no experience I took a rowing class in Minnesota over the summer. I enjoyed it and I think I got rather good at it by the end of my 6 classes.

With this in my back pocket I confidently signed up for receiving information from the rowing team at the campus Sports Fair. 

Soon I discovered that my little plan to "meet people and get some exercise" wasn't exactly what I had gotten myself into.

First off rowing is apparently much more popular in the UK than it is in the States (feel free to laugh at me, I should have guessed). So, instead of sliding onto the team and looking really smart for picking up the technique quickly, I actually have to catch on quickly and compete for the 24 spots on the novice team.

Now, while my friend Caitlin might say that everyone is competitive, I've never been much into the heat of the race, the intoxicating rush of the win. Usually my goal is to not die...or not be last. While to some extent that is a bit competitive it's not really a driving force for me. Seriously, when I was nine my mom asked if I wanted to join the swim team and after watching them practice I told her that it looked like too much work. Almost 20 years later my attitude hasn't altered much.

In addition to learning I would be in a competition for a spot on the team, I realized this was a real sport, not just a fun club. And part of this sport included non-water, non-erg (rowing machines for you lay people out there) training. Stuff like running. Much like competition, running is something I don't do. Tried it. Hated it. 

Yet what did I find myself doing on a Monday evening in Coventry? Yep. Running. Thankfully not going for a run. But, let's be real, any running is too much running. 

The training plan for the weeks leading up to deciding the team reads as such: Monday - circuit training, Thursday erg training, Friday "fun" circuit training (I ask you, should "fun" and "circuit training" be allowed in the same sentence? You be the judge but at this point you probably know my mind on the matter), and finally on to the water Saturday.

So Monday night I did circuit training. To be honest, it wasn't bad. My legs burned, my face was more red than a lifeguard shirt, and if I sat down I was pretty sure I'd just stay in that spot until they had pity and carried me to the bus stop (where a bigger problem would most likely arise) but everyone around me seemed to be in a similar state, so I took comfort in that. At the end of the day I left the gym under my own power and didn't embarrass myself by puking into the nearest rubbish bin. All in all it was a veritable success.

Then, once I got home, I did what any self respecting woman does after working out: I ate ice cream.