This past weekend was the Head of the Charles. We had 1 women's eight and 1 men's eight. Both rowed well, but the women placed better than the men--perhaps 10 out of 24. The men did not place in the top half, disqualifying us for next year.
Mondays after race day means we get to re-rig the boats coming back from the race at 5:30 AM whether we have raced or not--a sore spot for me--but I try to smile, suck it up, and take one for the team, with dreams of dancing pillows still swirling in my head.
Rigging is a natty business, trying to figure out which riggers go where, chasing bolts and washers as they dash to the ground and escape from bondage.
After rigging, we took the Baron out for a short row--about 40 minutes. It was a simple excercise--sixes on the square, up past Three Sisters and then back with the same. The focus was on no hesitation at the catch--keeping oars only 1 inch from the water; rowing the arms after half-slide so as as to back the blade into the water; and making certain that the oar is fully connected with the water before kicking with the legs..
As we rowed upstream, the gentle warmth of an unseasonable fall morning enveloped us, as the full moon rose in the Virginia sky.
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