For those accustomed to a daily diet of Stoat, my apologies. It is nearly bumps (next week) and M1 is finally getting its 5 outings a week in, so I’ve been fairly busy. Not only do I have to row, but I’m also faced with the onerous task of being sociable in the Old Spring afterwards. Its a hard life. I’ve been forced to row stroke side, and have finally become comfortable there, just in time to swap myself onto bowside when our injured hero returned. We are finally starting to live up to our menacing black boat.
By way of an interesting contrast, I’m also coxing W2. I think I’m probably not quite the heaviest person in the boat, though I’m not sure. Having been shouted at by various coxes over the years it is fun to realise that coxing is a skill in a way that I hadn’t thought of. Not just the steering – I think I can cope with that – nor even the reactions in the race – don’t know yet – but in the line of patter you have to feed to a crew to keep it going. An ideal crew, of course, knows just what it is about, how long it is rowing for, and unhelped will get to the finish line in a state of exhaustion and collapse. Most crews will gently fade as one, then another, then finally all rowers slowly decide to wimp out and let others take the strain. Not to mention the way technique collapses under pressure. They need to be refreshed, reminded to row together, and in a way that sustains their interest.