So, the racing is over, and I have come away from the weekend feeling very encouraged and positive. Eleven weeks into training and in the midst of a heavy training block, it seems that I have some good speed without winding down and there is more to come. Saturday’s race was pretty solid. It was a straight final and I led the field early on, with myself and the girl from Nord slugging it out for the majority of the first 1k. I stayed in touch for most of the second half but she had more diesel in the tank and I found that my legs had nothing to sprint with. Lying in second place though, all of a sudden I had the shock of my life when my bow side blade flew out of my hand. I’d hit a buoy! At one point my blade was at front stops and I was at back stops...but I quickly gathered myself and slid up the slide as if in mid-stroke, and picked up where I left off. Julia says that from the bank it looked like I sat there for ages thinking about what to do!
I came off the water feeling that I had made a very good showing in my first international race since 2006 despite horrible tiredness and a very broken night the night before due to a loud party going on in the hotel. At the third increase in volume I stomped to the room phone and called reception to complain. To be fair to the hotel, they moved us straight away but I proceeded to lie there and twiddle my thumbs, willing myself to go to sleep. You know how it is.....I think I need to go and see my NLP person who helped me deal with the effects of adrenal fatigue (and who also runs a fantastic clinic for ME sufferers) and the spirals one can go into! My “stop” sequences only seemed to work for a short period of time and I had forgotten my soundtracks for sleep and regeneration.
I went to bed worried that I was too tired to race, that in my exhaustion I wouldn’t be able to raise my game and get “up for it” enough. I considered pulling out altogether as I didn’t want the embarrassment of a bad result. Jules tells me that she has to run her stops when she starts to analyse her tiredness...she has pulled herself out of ME so she KNOWS tired. I lay there – again – waiting for sleep to arrive and take over.
Sunday came around – again after a pretty sleepless night – and I lined up for my heat. We decided that I would just do enough to qualify for the final, knowing that I would have my hands full again in the final. I threw everything I had at the start and within 30 strokes was a length up. By the 500m mark I had clear water on the field and drew away gradually, feeling in control and knowing that I had enough time in case anyone sprung any surprises. Easing over the line rating at about 30 I felt that the cobwebs had been blown out and I could regenerate for the final. Leg massage, head massage and I was ready to boat in the searing heat.
This was a time to trust myself, to become one with my body and ask it to deliver. I cut the warm up short as the sun was so strong – 1.30pm is not a fun time of day to race – and sat quietly at the start, feeling the boat bobbing underneath me and letting my hand dip in the water, drawing strength and connection from it. As the green light showed, I again attacked the start with all my might. Within the first quarter it was clear to me that the fight would be between Marie-Anne Frenken and I again. This time I knew where she was strong and we had adjusted my race plan and moved my feet forward. When her move came at the 1000m, apparently she was looking around, puzzled that I was still there, leading her by just a fraction. It was like a brawl most of the way down the course, trading punches all the way down the track, bowballs nudging one past the other with each stroke. In the end her diesel engine got my tired legs and she just broke clear water over me over the line. The rest of the field trailed home behind us, and we exchanged exhausted congratulations with each other on the line. It’s a funny thing, each time I have raced in my single at international events, the competitors are genuinely pleasant to each other. At domestic events, I have already alluded to the fact that there is a distinct unpleasantness....is this a lightweight women’s thing?
Again, on no level could I have been disappointed with that row. I had gained a good few seconds on the Dutch sculler, who I have since discovered is the Dutch lightweight sculler entry at the World Cup in Lucerne. I have come away knowing that we are on track, that I have some good speed at all points through the race and I can’t wait to race again....fresh, tapered and raring to go.
CONTD.....
We had a long wait at Amsterdam airport for our flight, and landed a bit grumpy and very very tired (having also LMFAO at the pathetic efforts of the England team at the World Cup). We came through the “Nothing to Declare” bit....in fact, I did have something to declare:
“I declare that I am a tired girl and want to go home. If I don’t go home now I shall thcweam and thcweam until I’m thick (puke, not thtupid) and thtamp my foot”.
However, all of that went out of the window, when up sidled a certain Mr Moss, totally unexpectedly, bearing a bunch of flowers for each of us and smothering me in the hugest kisses. I was overjoyed, and love it that he does things like that. He’d driven up, even though we had our car at the hotel, just to surprise me.
And so, I had my Mossing a whole lot earlier than I expected and all tiredness was forgotten. Thank you my darling! And thank you to my baby sister, who has become such an integral part of the dream. This quote on being sisters went into a card I wrote to her before we flew out to Holland. I think it sums up how I feel (apart from the last part...well, maybe once or twice in our lives)!!
“She is your mirror, shining back at you with a world of possibilities. She is your witness, who sees you at your worst and best, and loves you anyway. She is your partner in crime, your midnight companion, someone who knows when you are smiling, even in the dark. She is your teacher, your defense attorney, your personal press agent, even your shrink. Some days, she's the reason you wish you were an only child.” ~Barbara Alpert
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