Tag: novice

Coxing How To Novice Q&A

Question of the Day

It was commented on yesterday that I was ‘too quiet’. I think part of it is because I’m still concentrating so hard on the steering in an 8 (it’s a work in progress) that I forget the speaking part. Also, I’m coxing a boat with people in it who helped teach me to row so I struggle with the idea of ‘correcting’ them! I need to find my ability to motivate them, steer, and not panic about other boats around me. How do you multi-task when coxing? Any advice?

It’s pretty normal for new coxswains to initially be “too quiet” as they try to get the feel of things. I would talk with your boat and explain that you’re still working on your steering and because it’s so important to not hit anything (duh), you don’t want to try and do too many things before you’ve got this one REALLY important thing under control. Little by little each day, try and start talking just a little bit more while they’re rowing. Listen to what the coach is saying and repeat the technical advice he’s giving. Tell them how much time has elapsed on their steady state, what their stroke rate is, timing is looking good, etc.

Once you’re comfortable with all that, let them know that you’re going to start increasing the amount of time you spend talking in the boat but still let them know that you’re main focus is still on steering, at least for right now. If you let them know WHY you’re being quiet, it’s easier for them because they at least know that it’s not because you’re not paying attention or because you’re uninterested in being there. Talk to your stroke too – she’s right there so she can give you some things to say if you can’t think of anything. Bring that up with her one day before or after practice and see what she says.

One of the things I learned when I started coxing my masters 8+ was that even though these women were old enough to be my mother, I can’t be afraid to tell them when they’ve screwed up. Plain and simple. We are there for a reason and that is to tell them not only what they’re doing right, but what they need to improve on. Think of it like this – they taught you to row, right? Assuming they’re good teachers and you learned a lot and became a good rower following their coaching advice, you should have a solid background of things to look for and be aware of regarding the stroke. Without their coaching, you wouldn’t know what nuances to look for had they not taught you. Pointing this stuff out to them shows that you absorbed what was taught to you, which in turn will hopefully show them that you’re invested in this and really committed to helping them get better. If their timing is off or someone is washing out, you have to tell them. It’s a lot harder when the people you’re coxing are older than you but it’s part of the job. They’ll respect you a lot more for it too.

I always get a little nervous when I get near other boats, not because I doubt my abilities, but because I don’t know theirs. I have no idea if their coxswain is paying attention or knows how to steer or anything else. If I was hooked up to a heart rate monitor on the water, every time another boat comes around, you’d see my HR spike. My blood pressure too, probably. I’ve talked to other coxswains who are the same way – it’s our version of being a defensive driver while on the road. (Remember, defensive and aggressive are two different things … don’t confuse them.)

In Grey’s Anatomy there’s a scene where Dr. Sloan is talking to the residents and interns about a patient with an exposed carotid artery and the patient looks at the doctors and says “they look scared.” Dr. Sloan replies “They’re medical professionals. A healthy level of fear is encouraged.” We’re rowing professionals  – a healthy level of fear is encouraged when we’re on the water. Internalize it though. Don’t make it outwardly known that you’re freaking out because the coxswain ahead of you just spun right in the path of your boat while you’re doing a race piece. Just steer around them (or stop if necessary) and move on.

Related: How to steer an eight or four

Multi-tasking while coxing is like having someone (or multiple someones) in the car with you. You’re driving, you’re listening to music, you’re talking, you’re watching the speed limit, you’re watching the cars around you, etc. It’s very similar to being in the boat, especially the “watching out for other cars on the road” part. You get better with practice, but you can’t be afraid TO practice. You’re ALWAYS going to have to be steering and doing something else, so it’s something you have to get used to pretty fast. Steering is also something you want to pick up sooner rather than later so that you can turn your focus to other things. Have your coach critique your steering one day so that you know how you’re doing. Ask your stroke to watch you line for a few strokes while you’re out and see what she says – are you moving directly away from one point or are you drunk steering down the river?

Once I’m used to a particular body of water and know it’s twists, turns, etc., steering becomes an afterthought. I go on autopilot and my focus turns away from my steering and onto the rowers, which is where the majority of our focus should be anyways. As you get more comfortable with the river or lake you’re rowing on, the multi-tasking thing will be a lot easier and eventually you won’t even realize how many different things you’re doing at once.

How to Steer an Eight or Four

Coxing How To Novice

How to Steer an Eight or Four

Steering is a crucial skill that coxswains need to master quickly. How you steer a race can mean the difference between winning and losing and it’s something that rowers think about when determining who they trust as their coxswain. Rowers don’t want to put all that effort into a 2k only to end up 3rd because their coxswain was drunk steering or playing ping pong with the buoy lines down the course.

Steering is by far the toughest technical aspect of coxing – a 53′ long fiberglass shell is no easy piece of equipment to maneuver, especially when you first start out, but the coaches and rowers are relying on you to steer the boat safely down the river. Steering is, above anything else, a safety issue. If you’re not paying attention or over steering or whatever, there is the potential for you to hit something or someone, causing injury to the boat, the crew, or someone else on the water.

The problem with being thrown into the coxswain’s seat as a novice is that coaches give you two pieces of advice before sending you on your way – “don’t hit anything and steer straight”. The thing they forget to do is tell you how to steer straight. Below are some basic pieces of advice that will hopefully help you decode the steering process and improve your own steering abilities. It’s a simple and complex process all in one but if you’re diligent about practicing, you’ll pick if up in no time.

Pick a point and steer towards it. Make SMALL adjustments when necessary to stay on that point. Every so often during practice (NEVER during a race) look behind you and see the path you’ve taken – you should be able to see it in the water. If for the most part it’s pretty straight, good job. If it looks like the kind of zig zag you’d see on an 80s t-shirt, lay off the strings a little.

When the rudder isn’t straight it can throw off the set, which distracts the rowers and takes their focus away from what they’re supposed to be doing. Don’t make them work any harder than they already have to. Turning the rudder also adds a bit of drag to the boat and will slow it down (something to be aware of if you need to make adjustments during races).

Keep your body centered in the seat, try not to shift from side to side. This can throw off both the set of the boat and your point, since you’re adding more weight to one side. Lean when necessary but keep such movements to a minimum. If you’re moving around a lot AND telling the rowers to adjust the set, they’re never going to know if it was their handle heights that fixed the boat or you re-centering your weight. If you’re trying to see around the rowers, sit up on the back of the coxswain’s seat for a stroke or two. This keeps you fairly centered in the boat and causes minimal movement from side to side. Never, EVER do this during a race – only during practice.

There’s a delay between when you adjust the rudder and when the boat actually turns. Depending on how fast you’re going it could be half a stroke or two strokes. Don’t over adjust thinking that the boat isn’t turning…give it time. The time it takes for your boat to respond depends on many factors, including how old the boat is. The older it is, the longer it typically takes to respond. Pay attention when you get in a new boat to how long it takes so you know ahead of time how long it takes for your boat to start turning.

When you make any steering adjustments is really up to you and what you find works best. The most common rule of thumb is that you should steer when the blades are in the water since that is when the boat is most stable and is less likely to be thrown off balance by the rudder movements. For me, I’ve found that I get a better (and smoother) response from the rudder if I steer when the rowers are on the recovery. This might differ depending on your shell, the rowers, etc. but you should find what works and is most effective for you and then stick with it. When you’re on the rudder make sure you tell the rowers since it can/will mess with the set a bit, particularly if you’re going around a long turn. All you need to say is “I’m on the rudder” and what they need to do to compensate to balance the set (lift/lower the hands). On small adjustments though this is unnecessary since one tap of the rudder is unlikely to throw the shell that far off balance.

To turn left (port), push your left hand forward. To turn right (starboard), push your right hand forward. Once you’ve made your adjustment, bring your hands back to their original position. The best way to know when your rudder is straight is to get some brightly colored electrical or duct tape and mark the center of the string (above your cox box). Do this when the boat is on land that you can move the rudder to it’s straight position before marking the string.

If you’re using the rowers to turn or point you, make sure you only use as many rowers/as much pressure as necessary. If you use more of either, you’re going to be pointed in the opposite direction that you want to go. Specify exactly who you want to row and how much pressure (ie “bow and 3, take three 3/4 pressure strokes”). Know when to have them stop rowing too. If you have them row until you’re perfectly straight, you’re going to end up over-adjusted. Row until you’re about 90% pointed and then use the rudder to adjust the last 10%. If it’s windy or there’s a strong current, you’ll need to adjust for that too.

When sitting easy in the water, use bow and 2 to get your point. For large adjustments have them take a full 1/2 pressure stroke and for small adjustments have them take an arms only stroke. (Remind them that half-pressure means half-pressure, not zero-pressure.)

Anticipate turns and bends in advance and make your adjustments as necessary. Don’t wait until the last minute – by then, it’s too late (think Titanic…). The pivot of the boat is usually somewhere around 3 seat, so the turn the boat takes might not be what you expect. Think about the trajectory of the boat ahead of time.

Always keep your hands on the strings. Never take them off unless you’re sitting easy and not moving. If there isn’t some kind of tension on the balls while the boat is moving, the water current will move the rudder around, which will cause your steering to be all over the place.

I often find that when I have both hands on the strings, I over steer. To force myself to only steer as much as necessary, I only steer with one hand. 90% of the time it’s my right, since I’m right handed, but if I’m making a particularly large turn, I’ll switch to my left. I hate wearing the mic so I always hold it in my left hand (during practice only, never races), which means I only have one hand available to steer anyways. If your coach is OK with you doing this, try it during practice one day and see if it makes a difference. It has REALLY helped me combat my over-steering, which has always been my biggest issue.

For more tips on steering, check out the “steering” tag.

Image via // Hear the Boat Sing

Ergs Q&A Training & Nutrition

Question of the Day

Because of an injury and physical therapy, among other things, I have a really hard time erging. I won’t finish PT until around February and I really want to have a decent 2k time (I haven’t erged the entire fall season) … what’s a good goal for myself? I’m a lightweight (5’9, 125 lbs) and I just had my first season.

I wouldn’t try and set a time goal for yourself until you can actually get back on the erg and do a base workout to see where you’re at now. It’ll basically be like doing your first erg test all over again. Once you’ve done that first one, compare it to the last one you did before you were injured and see what the difference is. Whatever that difference is, make it your next goal to cut those seconds down by a reasonable margin the next time you do a 2k. Once you’ve gotten to whatever your last 2k was, you can do what you’d normally do when aiming to lower your times.

Depending on your injury, I’d try and continue doing some strength training throughout December, January, and February. If you have an upper body injury, stick to lower body exercises (leg press, hamstring curls, leg extensions, squats (without weight), one legged squats, etc.). If you have a lower body injury, stick to upper body exercises (shoulder press, tricep dips, front and lateral dumbbell raises, pushups, high pulls, etc.). Try and do some core as well. If you can do some kind of strength training, that will at least maintain some of your strength and fitness vs. doing nothing and having your muscles atrophy.

Ergs Novice Q&A Rowing

Question of the Day

I just finished my first full year as a novice and I’m a girl, 5’5 and 140 pounds. My 2k time is a 7:58 which for a heavy weight isn’t too great. Do you think it is a reasonable goal to go lightweight by the end of January?

For a novice that’s actually not too bad. If you lost 2lbs a week (the standard recommended amount) over the next month, month and a half, sure. You could technically be a lightweight. But what’s your motivation? Is it just so your erg time seems more “acceptable”? I wouldn’t focus so much on trying to become a lightweight as I would getting stronger at your current weight. Increased strength = increased power = lower splits.

Coxing Novice Q&A Training & Nutrition

Question of the Day

So I’m a novice coxswain and I’m really not athletic. The other coxswains told me that during winter training we do everything the rowers do but because I haven’t been erging and working out with the team, I’m scared I won’t be able to keep up with them. What should I do?

One of the benefits of being a coxswain is that you don’t necessarily have to have the same amount of athletic prowess as the rowers. Some coxswains are extremely athletic and participate in other sports besides crew (I did) and some aren’t. It’s really not a big deal. No one, not even your coach, expects you to be going as hard at the workouts as the rowers are, so don’t ever feel like you’re “behind” or not as good as the rowers.

If you haven’t been erging or working out with them, it’s fine. Don’t try and match the level that they’re at but still put some effort into whatever you’re doing. Do things at your pace. If you can’t erg below a 2:30 split without dying, then don’t! If your steady state pace is a 2:40, then row at a 2:40. If you’re doing calisthenics and core workouts, PUSH YOURSELF. These exercises are great because there’s no weights involved and you’re just using your body – everyone can do them.

Related: My coach makes coxswains do winter workouts and 2k’s with rowers. Do you think that’s fair? We don’t get a break with the workout, at all. We have to do the same exact thing as rowers.

While getting in shape and physically fit is a great motivator for working out with the team, your coaches are probably watching to see how well you interact and can keep the team motivated when you’re doing the same workouts as them. You could be the most miserable person in the room but you’re the coxswain…you’ve got to put on a happy face and find what it takes to keep everyone else going. They also want to see your leadership skills at work…can you get everyone started and lead them through the workouts or do you slink back and all hell break loose?

Don’t be nervous. Keep an open mind and go into it with a positive attitude. Don’t feel defeated before you even start…remember, your attitude at the beginning of a task determines how successful you are at completing it.

Coxing How To Novice Q&A Racing

Question of the Day

Hi! I will be doing a 2000m race with my crew tomorrow. I’m my team’s coxswain. It will be my second race, but my first 2000m race. I understand steering and such, and I know what calls to make for technique, and I know our starts, but my coach hasn’t really gone over the race itself, I guess. What I’m trying to say is that I need some guidance on how the race should go. Also, stake boats terrify me. Any help you can give me would be amazing!

Stake boats aren’t as scary as they seem. Have you practiced them at all during your practices? The best way to figure out how to do it is to practice it with your coach. Have them (or a teammate) lie stomach down on the launch (which should be sitting stationary, obvs) and act as the stake boat-holder, while you row up and try and back it in. It’s not going to be EXACTLY the same because you’ll have the current of the river moving the launch as well as the boat, but it gives you a GREAT sense of how to do it. Plus, your coach can see exactly what you’re doing and give you pointers on how to correct it.

Here’s a pretty good video that explains a lot about how to get into the stake boats.

As for everything else … it’s pretty straightforward. You row up to the start, get locked on, and go. It’s a straight 2k (I’m assuming) so you won’t have to worry about steering around curves or anything. You want to steer as little as possible so pick a point in the distance and keep it right off your stroke’s ear or shoulder and shoot for that down the course.

Pay attention to what they tell you about the starting call in the coxswain meeting. They’ll either do a quick start (“Attention, GO!”), a countdown start (“5, 4, 3, 2, 1, attention, GO!”), or a polling start (“Harvard, Penn, Cornell, Dartmouth, Cal, we have alignment, attention, GO!”). If it’s very windy or the weather isn’t great, they’ll most likely do a quick start, otherwise they’ll probably stick with a countdown start. That’s been my experience anyways.

Last minute tips:

As soon as you get locked onto the platform and start getting your point, raise YOUR hand and have your bow raise THEIR hand. Unless the marshal’s say they aren’t recognizing hands, they cannot start the race until everyone’s hand is down. If they’re standing on a platform above where you are, it’s easier for them to look down and see the bowman’s hand than it is to see yours, so make sure they’re both in the air.

Find out what the rule is about breakage. Typically if it’s in the first 100m, they’ll call all the boats back to the platform. Breakage has to be legitimate, like a wheel came off the seat or the oar broke. Oarlocks that aren’t closed, crabs, or popping a slide don’t count as breakage.

Also find out what the rule is about flags. Typically they use a white flag to signal the start. In my experience, we were told to go on the flag drop, NOT the call “GO”. If the flag drops before you hear “go”, you can start. Find out the rule for your specific regatta though.

Take a deep breath at the starting line and shake out your shoulders. RELAX!! 2ks are the best kinds of races in my opinion. I’d choose a sprint race over a head race 10 out of 10 times. There’s probably a million other things I could suggest but I don’t want to overwhelm you too much! Have a great time and good luck!!

Coxing Novice Q&A Racing

Question of the Day

Strictly, I’m a rower, but I’m struggling with injury & looking at other options. I’ve been offered the opportunity to get involved in coxing our club’s ‘Masters’ 8, with a view to coxing them at Vets Head on the Tideway in March 2013 (do you know much about the Tideway? It’s a hellish course for coxes for a no. of reasons). I have limited coxing experience & haven’t coxed an 8 before. Is it possible to learn to cox an 8 effectively in so little time? I love a challenge but worry it’s too much…

I think you can definitely learn the basics of coxing in that period of time. You can learn all the calls you’ll need and can practice them (with the exception of directional ones) with the rowers while they’re erging. Once you get on the water, you’ll already have the basic calls down, so you can instead shift your focus towards steering, getting a feel for the boat, and watching the rower’s oars for technique issues.

Here’s my suggestions for over the winter:

Get with your coach and see if he/she has any video of that particular crew or any other crews that you can watch. As a rower, hopefully you already know the ins and outs of rowing, but having your coach go over it with you from HIS perspective will give you an idea of what you should be looking for as a coxswain. It’ll also give you an idea of things to say to the rowers, both when they’re on the ergs and on the water.

Watch and listen to audio/video from the coxswain’s seat. This will not only give you an idea of things to say but also things to pay attention to. The only thing to keep in mind with this though is to not get too set on doing things exactly how you hear or see them being done by other coxswains. Putting yourself in a box like that makes it really difficult to experiment with your own coxing style and adapt to what your own crew wants/needs. Use the recordings as a framework to build off of rather than a strict “how to” guide.

Related: Coxswain recordings

Get to know your boat. Work out with them. Go to breakfast. Have a boat meeting. Find out what makes them tick. What is an important characteristic to them for their coxswain to have? What do they like hearing in the boat? What are some things they know they specifically need to work on? What are their goals?

Coxing is just like rowing in the sense that you can pick it up quickly but then spend years and years refining your technique. Study up over the winter on the basics of coxing and ask lots of questions. I’m here if you need anything and I’m sure your coaches will be more than willing to help you out too. You’ve got five(ish) months, which is more than a lot of coxswains get when they’re first starting out. You can definitely do it if you put the effort in.

How to cox a boat in and out of the boathouse

Coxing How To Novice

How to cox a boat in and out of the boathouse

Walking the boat in and out of the house is something you’ll do every single day so it’s important that you understand the process, calls, and terminology that go along with it. Each team will have their own subtle variances but this should give you a general idea of what to say and do. If you’re a more experienced coxswain then how get your boat in and out will probably be a lot less regimented than what I’ve laid out below and that’s totally fine. This post is written with novice coxswains in mind though which is why the minutiae of the process is laid out a bit more systematically.

Remember that everything you say should be said assertively. You also need to speak loudly so that your crew can hear you – don’t assume that the echo or reverberation of your voice off the walls and boats will carry your voice. You can never be too loud, especially as a novice.

When giving instructions about where to go it’s important to know which way to tell the rowers to go too. “In the house” means to walk inside the boathouse/towards where the boats are stored and “out of the house” means to walk outside the boathouse/away from where the boats are stored. Vague directions such as “move that way” or “come towards me” aren’t helpful so avoid using ones like that and instead say things like “take two steps to your left” or “walk it towards bow”.

Coxing the boat out of the house

Before you begin, make sure there are four people on each end and each side of the boat. It is easiest to carry the boat if the rowers are bunched up at each end or spread out evenly throughout the length of the boat. Do not have the rowers all bunch up in the middle. This minimizes the support on the ends of the boat and makes it much heavier to carry.

Another thing to be aware of when the rowers line up is their height. You don’t want to have a tall person be on the direct opposite side of a short person because then it forces all the weight onto their shoulder. If you have a range of heights going from stroke to bow, you can have the rowers switch where they stand when they’re carrying the boat down so that it’s comfortable for everyone. (This also eliminates a lot of bitching and “get it on shoulders” from the taller rowers.)

If you’re in a boat that is fairly new to the sport or has varying levels of upper body strength, your best bet is to have two tall people on either end, that way each end will be able to push the boat up and over heads. If all the stronger people are on one end and the weaker are on the other, that spells disaster in the making. Long story short, know the individual strength of your rowers.

To get the boat out of the house, the italicized words are the calls you’ll make to tell your crew what to do.

“All eight, hands on.”

This is the call that lets people know you’re ready to go. When you get hands on everyone should be quiet so they can hear what you’re saying and then do it without wasting time. If people are talking or not paying attention, that’s when boats get damaged.

“Lift it up, slide it out.”

This is the command to get the boat off the racks. When you give the command to “lift it up”, make sure you’re watching the fin. Some people have very liberal ideas of what an inch is and will lift the boat too high, causing either the fin or the hull to hit the boat, riggers, or racks above them. This can do various sorts of damage to the boat (ranging from dents in the hull from the racks or riggers to knocking the fin loose) so make sure when you say an inch, your rowers know you only mean an inch.

Sliding it out is the second part of this command. Once the boat is lifted off the racks this is when the rowers side step it to the middle of the bay. I like to say “slide it out” instead of “walk it out” because it’s (apparently…) easy to confuse “walk it out” with walk it out of the house instead of just walking it to the middle of the bay. Keeping the calls separate just avoids confusion, boat damage, and/or injury.

“Shoulders, ready, UP.” or “split to shoulders, ready, split.”

This call is only necessary if you’re bringing the boat out of a rack that isn’t already at shoulder height. If  you’re bringing the boat up from rollers that are on the ground you’ll need to say “waists, ready, up” first before giving the command to go to shoulders. Don’t go from the boat being on the ground straight to shoulders. If you’re coming down to shoulders from over heads, you’ll want to give the call to “show sides”. This tells the rowers to indicate which side they’re splitting to by leaning their head in the direction they’re going to move. Ideally they should be splitting to the side opposite their rigger.

“Watch the riggers, walk it out.”

Once you’re at shoulders, tell the rowers to watch the rigger in front of them to make sure it’s not going to hit anything and then walk it out. When walking it out, you should always be standing at the BACK of the boat. You should be able to see the entire length of the boat in front of you, regardless of whether you’re standing at the stern or the bow. The “back” of the boat will be dependent on how you store it.

The reason you should be at the back is so you can see if your boat is going to hit anything, which includes but isn’t limited to riggers on other boats, bay doors, random people standing around, etc. By following the boat you can pull it to the side if you need to in order to avoid clipping a rigger or something. Don’t count on your rowers to pay attention to whether or not the riggers are going to hit something (even though you’ve told them to “watch the riggers”) – you have to assume responsibility for your boat.

You also don’t want to stand beside the middle of the boat because if you have to make a turn coming out of the boathouse, you won’t be able to see what’s going on with the back end. If the crew swings too early, that end can hit the boats on the racks, a wall, etc. Additionally, your field of vision for what’s in front of you just decreased by about 50% because now you can’t see what obstructions might be in your way on the other side.

Coxing the boat in the house

For the most part, walking the boat in the house is the exact opposite of walking it out.

“Watch the riggers, walk it in.”

When the rowers are walking in, make sure they’re walking in in a straight line, not at an angle or anything. This is directed more towards crews who can’t walk directly into the boathouse from the dock. The back of the boat is going to follow the front, so if the front walks in at an angle the bow is going to follow, meaning that if/when the front swings around to straighten out, the bow of the boat won’t know what’s happening and will continue to try and walk forward. This typically results in the front of the boat getting pushed forward into another boat or into a wall. More experienced crews can get away with walking it in like that as long as they’re cautious but it’s not something novice or younger crews should do.

The easiest way to bring the boat in is to walk up parallel to the boathouse, weigh enough, and then side step the boat over so that it’s in a straight line in front of the bay. The key is to make sure everyone side steps it over together so the boat stays straight. Once you’re in front of where you want to be, you can walk it in.

“Weigh enough.”

Once your boat is in front of the racks you can tell the crew to weigh enough. A good way to know when/where to weigh enough is to put tape on your boat to mark the spots where it sits on the rack, that way whenever you walk in the house you always know exactly where to tell them to weigh enough. If you go in the house too far or not far enough, see where the tape is in relation to the racks and say “walk it in one step” or “walk it out three steps”. Always give the rowers specific directions so there’s nothing left open for interpretation. Don’t ever say “walk this way” because … which way is “this way”?

“Waist, ready, down.” or “up and over heads, ready, up.”

Be mindful of your position in the bay so that when you go over heads you don’t knock the riggers on other boats on the racks or the fin on any small boats you might have hanging from the ceiling.

“Side step it over, lift it up, and slide it in.”

Same as before, make sure when they lift the boat to get it on the racks, they’re not lifting it too high. Be aware of where the fin and hull are in relation to the boat above them. It’s important that everyone walks it over and puts the boat in together so that the rowers on one end aren’t already walking away from the boat while the other end is still trying to get it on the racks. Before you set it down double check that none of the riggers are sitting on the racks either because it can bend them or cause damage to the hull. If you’ve got tape on the hull to indicate where it should be on the racks, make sure it’s still lined up before everyone disperses.

The most important things to remember when bringing the boat in and out are:

Speak loudly, slowly, clearly, and concisely

Make sure your crew can hear you and clearly understand your instructions. They should never have to yell “what?!” or “we can’t hear you!”.

Pay attention to everything around you

Watch out for people standing in your path, boats that might be in slings in the boat bay, riggers on other boats, etc. It’s your responsibility to communicate to them that there’s a boat coming out/in and they’re in the way.

Don’t get frustrated

Coxing a boat on or off the racks can be nerve wracking, especially as a novice. Stay calm and be in control of the situation. Don’t let the rowers start telling other rowers what to do. Make sure everyone is quiet and listening to your instructions.

This whole process really is incredibly simple once you get the hang of it. Sometimes it requires being in a few different places at once but as you and your rowers become more experienced, both you and they will learn how to make it a smoother process and your instructions won’t need to be as nitpicky.

Image via // @rowingrelated
An Irresistible Pull

College Novice Rowing Teammates & Coaches Training & Nutrition

An Irresistible Pull

I found this a few months ago and thought it was a great story, as well as good motivation. There’s definitely a lot parallels to be drawn between it and most of our own rowing careers.

During freshman week, he saw his first racing shell.  The crew captain was recruiting and stepped forward to introduce him to it.  The magnificent lines of the shell seemed perfectly sculpted.  How could a boat be so beautiful and narrow, the freshmen thought.  The captain said it was 64 feet long and held eight men.  The freshman noticed the captain’s weathered face and his developed quadriceps.  When they shook hands, the freshman felt the captain’s calluses.  Come row, the captain said.

The freshman went to the boathouse and tried it.  His first float onto the river filled his with pleasure.  He assessed the world from his sliding seat.  The river was wide and gray.  His coach told him that soon he would learn every turn of it.  He liked the idea of being a river man but knew little of what it meant.

He began long rows, experiencing the yoke of the river.  When he pulled hard, his car dove too deep into the currents.  He concentrated on rhythm.  The coxswain banged the stroke count on the gunnels.  Slowly, he learned to pull with power.  Afternoon practices ended in early darkness.  Half the freshmen quit, in doubt.  The captain said everyone must pull harder.

At Christmas, he shook his father’s hand and his father commented on his blisters.  He tried to talk about rowing but his tongue grew swollen and dull.

In April, the skim ice buckled the shoreline.  His boat was launched in light snow.  The varsity shaved their heads and wore T-shirts.  At spring break, he stayed for double practice.  His legs were always tired.  In sleep, he dreamed uneasily about water, of the river scrolling by.

His family came to the first race.  They stood a mile and a quarter from the start.  Because of a bend in the river, they only saw the last 20 strokes.  In victory, they thought it looked easy.  Two men vomited.  The freshman’s sister said she would never come again.  He threw the coxswain into the river, and the shirt that he wagered he collected from the opposition.  It was washed in collegiate sweat.  It was the finest trophy he had ever seen, and he wore it for a week.

Sophomore year, only six of his boat returned.  He was still green, and the competition was greater.  He, too, thought of quitting. He still resisted the river and blamed her when it hurt.  He imagined that his face looked troubled.  He wondered how much more he could give.  He saw the upperclassmen pull hard, sometimes even with pleasure.  He didn’t know what he was learning, but he suspected the lesson was patience.

In the junior year he rowed on the varsity.  They wagered and won many shirts.  He accepted the equation of practice to victory.  He grew mature about pain and work.  He saw the river as a strict teacher, helping him grow stronger.  His technique was exemplary.  But he did not row to win.  He rowed for a motion called swing.  In swing, he found a clearing to rise above grueling circumstances.  He suspected it was transcendental, where life became more than it seemed.  He suspected that if he got to know this clearing, he could find it again, away from the river.

He started his last year aware of an ending.  He went to the gym during freshman week and stood by a new shell with his quadriceps bulging.  His lobster hands engulfed the hands of recruits.  He was tanned and ready.  He was cordial but did not try to tell them why he rowed.  Instead, he explained the boat and the river.

In his fourth fall, he was bored.  He became intrigued with the perfect stroke.  His roommate studied physics, so they spent a week diagramming torque.  They discussed an oar’s effect on ultimate boat speed.  They placed values on leg drive and arm strength, and he graphed the motion on paper.  He was tested for body fat and had almost none.  He was training harder than ever because he could not do less.  The river was ever-changing, but he trusted her mass.  He saw a picture of the Harvard crew in Sports Illustrated, and wondered about the Olympics.  Then he looked at the seven-man and wanted his shirt.

His boat was chosen to win the league.  They won races but the swing was elusive.  He sensed that there was a struggle in the bow seats, but nothing was said.  His coach studies the ancient Greeks.  The motto of the boathouse was When dying, die in virtue.  But first, they were taught to endure.  Then they could die.  Of the two, enduring seemed more difficult.

Before his last race, the river was brown and foaming.  In a practice start the bowman crabbed his oar, throwing the boat to port.  He heard the strike to the bowman’s ribs.

They drifted in the current, waiting.  They had bet shirts, winners take all.  The opponents rowed by to impress them.  He stared at the seven-man, measuring the size of his shirt, a tall basketball washout from Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.

A race is six minutes.  Thus, a season is thirty-six minutes.  But he had practiced two hours a day, from September to June.  When icicles dripped from the oar locks, they went to Florida to row double sessions.  In addition, he ran stadium steps, lifted weights, and practiced in the tanks.  It seemed a dismal, inequitable equation.

Before the start, his stomach hurt.  He eased up the slide, legs sprung.  He heard the ripping of the water.  Waiting was harder than pulling, harder to contain.  His heart, which had strained to starting commands for four seasons, pounded for the gun.  When the pistol cracked he lashed out in relief.

At 500 meters the race was even and he longed for swing.  The starting sprint was over, but the coxswain had kept the cadence too high.  The boat struggled, not yet fluid.  He knew fatigue came in stages, but there was already too much in his legs.  Steadily, he shadowed the stroke before him.  His ears filled with static.  He wondered if the bowman was pulling.

At a thousand meters the coxswain wanted more.  At each catch the boat jumped, and he felt awake, lightened.  They responded-all eight-with legs and backs in symphonic motion.  The coxswain rapped the gunnels, sounding the beat with his hands.  He wanted more lead-another deck length-but the rowers only wanted rhythm, to hold the cadence, to extend their pleasure.

At the 1500-meter mark, there was a wake.  The boat twisted to port; and in a moment, they felt the swing depart.

With new pain, he searched the shoreline for clues.  How much farther?  How much longer?  How much more?  The stroke gasped to raise the beat by two; but slipping, it only went one.  His legs were gone, his back burned, his throat was numb.

With 20 strokes to go, he heard another coxswain yell that they were dying.  He thanked him, needing anger to penetrate his numbness.  He began counting but thought that 20 was too far.  He told himself to quit at ten-quit the race, quit rowing.  He was in deep suffering.  He once dreamed of falling off bridges in locked cars.  He was now back in the river, on the bottom; the inexorable swim to the surface was far.

On the eighth stroke, he heard his raspy coxswain, hoarse from a season’s yelling, calling his men to their oars.  The voice without panic.  It reminded him of his connection with the others.  He renegotiated with his legs, which hurt the most.  He asked his heart for tolerance, his back to bend.

He counted each stroke to the finish.  He felt his own last surge, making the oar shaft bend.

They drifted to regain their breathing.  Their coach yelled that they had won by a foot.  They wondered when, in their years on the river, they had learned to go that much faster.

At the dock, a small crowd was cheering.  After throwing in the coxswain, then the coach, the oarsmen quickly jumped in.  Himself, he floated in the brisk current, looking at his family on the bank.  The water was cold beneath the surface, but he barely felt it.  He was certain that this race was his last, then he thought better of it.

Image via // @benrodfordphoto

Coxing Novice Q&A Racing

Question of the Day

Hi, I’m a beginner coxswain for a men’s novice 8 and my first regatta is coming up in two days. I’m super super nervous and I was wondering if you could give me some really good calls I can make in the middle of the race … I usually end up not really know what to say and repeat the same things over and over! Thank you so much!

Try and find different ways to say what you’re already saying, that way you can repeat yourself without actually repeating yourself. It keeps the rowers alert and tuned into what you’re saying if you can keep a running list of different ways to say the same things.

Calls for the middle of the race … this is where you’re going to start transitioning from more technique based calls to more motivational calls. You’ll be able to come up with some great stuff if you can find out what THEY want to hear. Remember, you’re guiding them down the river so you’ve got to, in a sense, tell them what they want to hear (and in some cases, what they don’t want to hear) in order to get them to do what you want. Don’t be to stringent though with your calls and try to script it out though (that never works).

Related: HOCR: Race plans and My race plan from HOCR

During my eight’s race two weeks ago we were just sitting on a crew for probably 20 strokes before I said that I was sick of looking at this other crew and that on this next 20 we were going to walk away from them. They responded really well to that and we walked by them with no problem. Another call my crew really likes is “Do not sit, do not quit”, which I borrowed from Pete Cipollone. I used it as we were coming into the last 500m or so to remind them to not sit for a single stroke and to stay focused and in the boat. They said it was one of the best calls they’d heard because it really got them fired up for the end of the race.

A great way to develop your calls is to listen to the calls of other coxswains. Listen to them and pull out/modify anything you think would be beneficial for your crew. Remember the number one rule of borrowing coxswain calls though: don’t take, use, borrow, or modify a call if you do not know why it was being used in the first place. Remember your tone of voice too throughout the race. I know there are posts either on here or on the blog somewhere where I talk about tone, inflection, volume, etc. They’re all very important in communicating well with your crew and making sure they stay alert and focused.

Related: Coxswain recordings

I know I didn’t give you any SPECIFIC calls in here but hopefully I’ve given some tools to help you come up with your own stuff.