Category: Rowing

“To row was to race and races were meant to be won”

College Racing Rowing

“To row was to race and races were meant to be won”

If you follow me on Instagram then you probably saw my story from early December of the black-tie banquet that I spent most of the fall helping plan and organize. One of the bigger parts of the evening was honoring our “crew of the year” – shout out to the women’s varsity four – and one of our alums as “alumni of the year”. The alum that was chosen gave a really stirring speech that I thought you’d be interested in reading so that’s what today’s post is. I think that regardless of who we row for or where we’re all at in our rowing careers, there’s something in here that we can relate to. I hope you find something that speaks to you that you can carry with you throughout 2018, both on and off the water.

“Good evening fellow Columbians and most welcome guests.

I am humbled to stand before you here tonight and wonder why you would choose to honor me, for I have not come close to matching the generosity of Tom Cornacchia or Dean Dakolias for Columbia Rowing. Nor can I claim to have represented our program on a national team like Nick LaCava or Libby Peters or my classmate Juan Felix. I was never in a Varsity Heavyweight Eight that won the Child’s or Blackwell Cups. I did not contribute to the glory of winning the IRA like that great Lightweight Crew in 2016.

I consider my own accomplishments as a Varsity Oarsman at Columbia to be rather ordinary. Nevertheless, as I contemplate my life since graduating from Columbia, it is clear to me that the experience of rowing at Columbia has been the foundation and the forge of whatever I may have achieved in my life since leaving this great University.

We are here tonight because we share an abiding affection for both rowing and our Alma Mater.

The sport of rowing is not really easy to explain to anyone who has not invested the time necessary to overcome those early awkward moments of uncertainty and instability that are apparent when sitting in an eight and while the mechanics of the stroke itself are not especially complex, mastering the execution of the stroke in synchronicity to create power and propulsion requires a level of skill and sensitivity that may not be obvious to someone watching a shell moving through the water at speed. There are layers of mystery and subtlety that shroud our sport from the comprehension of non-rowers.

This may be one of the reasons why rowing lends itself so well to romantic imagery in poetry, photography and painting. The world of rowing is populated by arcane words and unique rituals and routines. Day after day, we laid our “hands on” the shell, lowering it to our shoulders, “counting down” from the bow, “shoving off” from the dock, and waiting to hear “ready all row”. The comforting and terrifying voice of the coxswain exhorting us to give him or her a “power ten”, obediently raising the stroke rate by going “up two in two” and then “up two more”, while waiting to hear with desperate anticipation for the “last twenty” and the final relief of “paddle” and “weigh enough”.

But I did not come here tonight to reminisce about these gentle memories or to tease you with the imagery of those tiny ephemeral whirlpools and the concentric puddles our oars left behind our sterns or the magical sounds of bubbles dancing along the hull when our boats had achieved that perfect set of balance and precision and power and speed.

A painting by Tomas Eakins we all probably first saw in our Art Hum class cannot satisfy my urge to articulate to you tonight what I felt when rowed. I need a different medium to explain what rowing for Columbia meant to me, a medium that accurately illustrates the violent and extreme feelings that I confronted as an oarsman and which have irrevocably shaped my character ever since.

The vehicle I chose to offer you this evening that I believe expresses these feelings best is The Iliad of Homer, a text I believe should be familiar to all Columbians. Tonight I would like to give you an interpretation of this great epic through the eyes of a Columbia Oarsman, who was a “walk on” to the Freshman Crew Team in September of 1976.

Now I have to confess that I was rather chubby at that time in my life and my previous athletic experiences were limited to long walks with 14 clubs over my shoulder on municipal golf courses. I assure you that I was by no means considered “first boat material” by our coach, Ted Bonnano, when I showed up for that first day of practice in the tanks below this very stage where I stand tonight.

One of the first things I noticed was the ever present underlying competitiveness of rowing. Weight training, running stairs in Pupin Hall, the Hill at Baker Field, the Double Hill at Baker Field, the Loop in Central Park and worst of all, erg tests in that dark and rancid cave off the running track in Dodge were all different metrics to establish where I stood against all the other members of our crew and which boat I would be assigned to sit in. And once in those boats we learned to race. First against each other, day after day, in that diabolical device known as “seat racing”. Next we raced against the Varsity Heavies, or the JV Heavies or the Lightweight Eights and finally against Princeton, Penn, Navy, and MIT. To row was to race and races were meant to be won.

The next and most lasting impression I had in those early days of my rowing career was the level of pain we must endure in rowing, from the first twenty strokes at the start to the final sprint. The level of pain sustained throughout a 2000 meter race is indescribable and inescapable. The burning of lactic acid and the sting of adrenaline in the back of my throat were sensations I had not been familiar with in my previous life as a golfer when serious stress may have been sweaty palms from time to time when confronting a four foot putt for a birdie. At some point around Spring Break of my Freshman Year I remember asking myself a very important question:

“Why would anyone, particularly, chubby Phil Adkins, willingly and enthusiastically participate in a sporting endeavor that is essentially a contest of who could sustain the most pain for the longest possible time?”

Looking back now I realize that what motivated me. What I relished the most, for the first time in my life, were my adversaries. Their presence in my life was a great gift and they served to fuel my deepest desires to dominate and defeat them. For me the most effective antidote for pain was the feral feelings of fury and rage that consumed me whenever I pulled on an oar.

And Homer nailed it from the very first line of The Iliad: “Sing oh Muse of the Rage of Achilles”. For me, rage worked.

Revisit for a moment your own recollections of backing down your eight into the stake boat at the start of a race, the quick glance out of the corner of your eye at your opposite number across that narrow stretch of water as the boats line up, all the while your heart is pounding and your sinews stretch in anticipation of those explosive words: “Get ready … row”.

Compare your own intimate thoughts at that moment of brutal confrontation with the words of Achilles when he squared off against Hector as their final battle commenced and shouted: “I only wish my fury would compel me to cut away your flesh and eat it raw”. As you know, things did not go well for Hector that day.

The Iliad is filled with battles, not all of them with fatal consequences and Homer had a very deep bench of adversaries and protagonists. But the essential theme of the poem is not necessarily rage and revenge. The more significant lesson of the poem is transcendent and another fight in particular reveals to us a deeper, more human and compassionate relationship between combatants that resonates well with our fundamental human need to ultimately reconcile rage with respect for our opponents.

There is a duel between Ajax and Hector that captures these two extremes perfectly and takes us well beyond the sullen and beastly raging of Achilles. The mighty Ajax says to Hector when they meet on the plain between the walls of Troy and the beached ships of the Greeks:

“Come then let us give each other glorious presents, so that any of the Greeks or Trojans my say of us ‘These two fought each other with heart consuming hate, then joined with each other in close friendship before they were parted’”.

Any of us who have exchanged shirts with our opponents or raced in England where opposing crews cheer each other after they race with the thrice shouted salute of “hip hip hooray” may wish to consider the ancient battlefield origins of these unique conventions in our sport as examples of how we can overcome rage and hatred with respect and affection.

As for me, Pain, Rage, and Fury all aptly describe how I felt when I learned to row and to race and to win. But I love the way Homer so beautifully transforms “heart consuming hate” into “close friendship” and through his poem I perceive a much more satisfying understanding of how to compete.

The “close friendship” Homer proposes to us ultimately manifests itself in the idea of camaraderie. And the camaraderie of rowers is special. It is a wonderful thing to see the different boats assembled each year at The Head of the Charles representing Columbia. In recent years I have enjoyed the privilege of rowing around the world and racing out of many boathouses. I have met former foes from Princeton and Penn and reveled in the memories of old and recent races. I never cease to be amazed by the warm welcome I have received around the world within the community of rowing when I introduce myself with great pride when I say “I rowed for Columbia”. I have received the respect of strangers for the accomplishments of our teams over the years.

Tonight I am especially grateful for the generosity of the past generations of Columbians, like the Remners, the Davenports, the Sanfords, and all great Columbians from the IRA Championship Boat of 1928 who after leaving Columbia contributed year after year to our program. They set an example of selflessness and sacrifice none of us have yet to match and one we should never forget. The greatest privilege of my life was to have rowed for Columbia where I learned to defend my seat every day I sat in the boat. I graduated from Columbia University in the City of New York, acutely aware of the consequences of losing my seat to an opponent who was prepared to work harder to take it away from me. Defending “my seat in the boat” became a metaphor for my life.

Columbia has enriched me and you have honored me. I owe you both a great debt.”

Image via // @columbia_lightweight_rowing

College Q&A Recruiting Rowing

Question of the Day

I’m currently a junior in high school. I’m 5’6 and 140 pounds. Recently I have started getting more serious about rowing & want to row in college. As a junior I know that this time is critical for college recruiting but I feel that I don’t have much to offer to colleges. I only row spring season so I don’t have as much experience on the water and none sculling. Last year as a sophomore I pulled an 8:35 2k and was in the lowest varsity boat. This year I’ve gotten my 2k down to a 7:54 and we still have a few months until the season. What would be a good 2k for the start of junior year and to be considered for colleges? I know that I can drop 4 seconds easily since my last 2k as I was just concerned with breaking 8 so it was more of a mental barrier. Is it feasible for me to drop to a 7:40 2k by February if I continue to work out? I’m afraid that I won’t be able to because I’ve already dropped so much time and I really don’t know my physical max yet because I have always PRed each time I have done a 2k but felt like I could have given more if I hadn’t got into my head. Also could I become a recruitable athlete even with my limited experience and pretty slow times? Could I try for lightweight programs even though I hover around a 139-141 right now?

I think the number of people that have sculling or small boats experience going into college is relatively small so I wouldn’t worry too much about that. It definitely helps your technique but I think the majority of rowers I know didn’t start sculling until the summer after their freshman year of college. Only a handful actually sculled in high school and that was only because their teams had the equipment available (whereas as most don’t). Same goes for only rowing in the spring – I know a ton of rowers that only did the spring season, either because it was all their school offered, they played a fall sport, or their school required them to do a different sport each semester. Coaches factor that stuff in too when looking at your times – somebody that only rows 4-5 months out of the year typically isn’t gonna be held to the same standard as those who are rowing year-round. Check out the post linked below for more on that.

Related: College recruiting: Technique and erg scores

I’m not as familiar with women’s times as I am with men’s but from what I’ve heard over the last couple of years, to stand out to top programs (i.e. grand final and top half of the petite finals at NCAAs) you should be in the 7:20 – 7:30ish range. If you’re a little slower (i.e. 7:30 – 7:40ish) but have really solid grades, that can make up for being a little off the pace they usually recruit at. If you’re sub-7:20, well, you shouldn’t have too much trouble getting looks from the schools you’re interested in.

If you’re at 7:54 right now and have been regularly training on your own (steady state, lifting, cross-training, etc.) then PR’ing on your next test should definitely be a possibility. 7:40 seems like an aggressive drop unless it’s been a while since your last 2k, in which case … maybe? I’d probably set my goal at something more feasible though, like 7:50 and if you go sub-7:50 then great but if not, at least you still hit this goal. If getting into your head during pieces is something you struggle with then smaller goals like this will definitely benefit you more (mentally) than striving for something huge like a 14 second drop.

You could actually probably go lightweight or openweight but if your natural weight is 10ish pounds over the lightweight minimum I’d probably have a serious conversation with your doctor first before you tried losing weight. You’ll be lifting a lot (more than you probably are now) in college too so you’ve gotta anticipate putting muscle on from that so that’s another thing you’ve gotta consider if you’re thinking about going lightweight. Personally I’d probably go the route of just staying at 140ish+, partially because there’s not as many lightweight programs and you’ll likely have more opportunities as an openweight. Do that, get a solid amount of steady state meters in each week throughout the winter, train smart, lift, etc. and you’ll have no problem dropping down into the 7:40s.

Holiday Gift Guide 2017

Rowing

Holiday Gift Guide 2017

It’s that time of year again and Black Friday/Cyber Monday is (somehow already) upon us. If you’ve got some holiday shopping to do or you’re still looking to add a few things to your own list, here’s a couple of ideas.

A year or so ago Amazon had an insane deal on Hot Hands and I got a 120 pack for $20 (normally it’s $75). Hand warmers on their own make great stocking stuffers but combined with the hat, gloves, and socks they make for an excellent gift that any coxswain who appreciates practicality and not freezing their ass off will enjoy.

Related: Rowing gifts

If you’re looking for some book ideas to go with that Audible subscription, check out the posts I’ve done on rowing books (here and here). If you’re looking for some non-rowing suggestions, Murder on the Orient Express, The Secret Lives of Codebreakers, and The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck are all on my 2018 reading list.

Image via // Potomac Boat Club

Drills Rowing Technique Video of the Week

Video of the Week: Eyes-closed rowing

I love eyes-closed rowing. It brings a different sense of calm and focus to the boat that you can’t really achieve when your eyes are open and there’s 20 different things all begging you to steal a quick glance at them. There were two years in particular where my crews did a lot of rowing like this … my freshman/novice year of high school and my freshman year of college. I think this was because we were either learning to row from scratch or adapting to a style that was different than what we’d all been rowing for the previous four years. Like they said in the video, it taught us – all of us – how to really feel the boat and not react to every little wobble.

On days when the set would be really off or we just weren’t having a good row, we would try to turn it around and salvage the latter half of practice by pushing pause on the workout and doing some eyes-closed steady state rowing for 3-5 minutes. This helped us re-concentrate our focus and reestablish that trust within the boat, which in turn led to an improved second half of the row. (Not always but most of the time, even if the gains were marginal.) If we knew we had a hard practice in store, we’d do our entire warmup with eyes closed to emphasize, again, trusting the guy in front and behind you, and to force us to make sure our technique was on point and we weren’t just muscling the blades through the water. It’s definitely a drill worth incorporating whenever the opportunity presents itself.

“Preparedness matters. Details matter.”

Coxing Rowing Technique

“Preparedness matters. Details matter.”

I was having a hard time this week trying to brainstorm ideas for today’s post (because at this point it feels like I’ve written all there is to write about head racing) but luckily one of the other Columbia coaches posted something in our team Facebook group that I thought was worth sharing.

Everyone needs to be prepared to use the drilling sequences to improve. That means knowing what they are, what you need to focus on, how you are going to focus on it, and what outcomes you want. Preparedness matters. Details matter.

I talk a lot about the importance of communicating with your coaches so you understand the drills/workouts you’re doing, their purpose, how it’s executed, what you should be taking away from it, the technical focus, etc. and then relaying that info to the rowers, either before they start the drill or while you’re warming up a just an overview of what practice will entail that day … and the quote above is why. Preparedness matters. Details matter.

This applies just as much to the rowers as it does the coxswains too – probably even more so, which means you also have to be communicating with your coaches and/or coxswains so that you have a full understanding of the drills you’re doing, particularly when it’s addressing a technical issue that’s been pointed out to you about your own rowing. It like that Lombardi quote says, “Practice doesn’t make perfect, only perfect practice makes perfect.” You can do drills or make technical calls every day during practice but if you’re only doing it because that’s what you’re supposed to do and not because you’re actually prepared to do it, with all the pieces of knowledge listed above at the forefront of your brain, you’re limiting what you take away from the work you’re doing.

Just something to keep in mind now that we’re fully into the fall season and gearing up for a busy few weeks of racing.

Image via // @mitmensrowing

How to steer through wake

Coxing How To Rowing

How to steer through wake

Steering through wake is a pretty common thing you’ll have to deal with while coxing. Whether as a result of the elements, other coaches, or powerboats, you’ll probably encounter some form of wake a couple times per practice (at least). It’s also dependent on the time of year – Canadian Henley week on the Charles is a lot different than early October or mid-May when it comes to wake generated by launches and other crews. It’s something you should always be on the lookout for though so your crew’s not caught off guard when the boat starts to roll with the waves.

Related: Coxswain skills: Awareness

If you think back to your earth science class in middle school, you’ll recall that there are two parts to a wave – the crest, which is the top, and the trough, which is the bottom. The larger the distance between the crest and trough, the bigger/taller the waves and the tougher they’ll be to steer through. The general rule of thumb is that if you can see both at the same time (i.e. they’re spaced out, lower than the gunnels, etc.) you can continue rowing. It might still be a little bumpy but nothing too distracting – it’s important though to give the rowers a heads up though by saying “little bit of wake on starboard side on this next stroke…”.

If you can’t see both/when in doubt, you should stop. The reason why is because if the boat is suspended on the crests of the waves, that empty space between the crest and trough isn’t providing any support to the hull and could cause it to crack or snap. Basically, if you could see daylight under the hull at any point, you need to stop and wait for them to pass. If the waves are due to the weather and stopping isn’t an option and/or would be unsafe, you’ll want to position yourself as close to shore as you realistically can (you can always go another oar’s length closer than you think though) and avoid turning the boat whenever possible, even if that means rowing agains the traffic pattern (which is another reason why you want to be super close to shore and something I talk about more down below).

In normal, quick-to-pass situations (like a launch zooming past you at a close range), you’ll want to stop and position the shell parallel to the wake so that you’re minimizing the surface area of the hull that isn’t supported by the water (going back to what I said before about it being suspended on the crests of the waves). In most cases you have enough warning time, especially if you’re just sitting there between pieces or listening to your coach, that all you’ll need to do is tell bow + 3 (for example) to take a couple strokes so you’re angled with the waves. Tell the rowers to “lean away” (not drastically, just enough that the water’s not going to end up in the boat) and keep the oars flat to provide as much stability as possible until it passes.

If you weren’t already rowing you’ll probably need to readjust your point and/or row back out from shore since the waves will push you in but otherwise, this ultimately isn’t something to worry about. It’s annoying and can be disruptive if you get waked out in the middle of a piece but it’s one of those things where I just roll my eyes, think “dude, seriously??”, and move on within a stroke or two once the wake is past us. If we’re stuck in the waves and have to stop to allow them to get ahead of us or flatten out, that’s even more annoying but again, not a big deal and not an excuse to let the focus/power completely fall off.

In not-quick-to-pass situations like strong winds and whitecaps, you don’t want to stop, like I said before, because that could potentially pose an even bigger safety threat. I always defaulted to my coaches here rather than making a call on my own (which I could do in situations like the previous one I mentioned) – if they said “keep rowing, angle across, row by sixes and do not stop“, I kept rowing, angled across, went down to sixes, and didn’t stop … even if it made me wince every time a wave would hit a rigger. Rowing through wake like this is the ultimate test of staying cool under fire though and even though it can be challenging, there’s nothing to do except do it.

I’ve rarely encountered this type of wake from other boats, it’s always a result of the weather. If you’ve been in the basin in early spring, you’ll know what I mean – once you get past the BU bridge going downstream it’s a shitshow. That was one of the very few downsides of our boathouse being by the Mass Ave bridge because the Charles is, for the most part, relatively protected but once you get past BU, you’re out in the open and there’s not much you can do other than limp through it and take it one stroke at a time. I can recall a couple specific instances where we’d come out of the bridge and just get smacked by insanely strong wind gusts and waves and in order to avoid swamping the boat, we’d have to angle across in front of BU from the Boston side to the Cambridge side and row against the traffic pattern until we got to the MIT lane (all without stopping) rather than rowing up the Boston side to the crossover point (near-ish the finish line), stopping, turning, rowing across, spinning again, and then rowing up the MIT lane.

(If you’re not familiar with the Charles, check out the maps in the post below to see all the landmarks I just mentioned and get an idea of what I’m talking about.)

Related: Navigating the Charles River

This morning on Twitter I saw a sculler call out a coach for waking people out in the Powerhouse (he actually @’ed them, which I love) and that’s what gave me the idea for today’s post. I’ve said this before but if you get waked out by someone, don’t flip them off or yell at them or whatever else … just let it go, especially if you’re a high school coxswain. College coxswains can probably get away with it more often but still, don’t engage. It doesn’t make you (as a program) look good and if your crew is already questionable about your ability to maintain your composure, this isn’t gonna help your case (I see this come up on evals a lot). If it’s a big enough issue then your coach can/will handle it (by either saying something to them or flipping them off themselves … I’ve been in the launch with coaches who have done both) but you should pick the “really??” GIF of your choice and just imitate that instead.

In rowing, the transcendent moment is called "swing" and those of us who have rowed for lifetimes have maybe experienced swing three or four times. It doesn't happen very often but when it does it really is a different dimension. It's where all eight bodies in the boat are absolutely in sync and every stroke is as perfect as it can be and then all of a sudden the race is over and you don't remember anything about the race except that you ended up two boat lengths ahead. It's an extraordinary kind of experience, really quite an oxymoron, it's a physical out of body experience or a mental out of body experience. It's part of that transcendence.