This occurred last night.
First, I must preface this story by saying I did this to myself. Usually all of my mis-haps occur because of some idiotic situation I put MYSELF in. Ehhh whatever - at least I keep things interesting.
So I rode my bike to a friend's house last night for a house-warming party. I had just finished a grueling practice and was exhausted, but I wanted to go anyway. I get there, have a great time, and then it's time to leave.
I walk out with a few friends and they're like, "You rode your bike here?!" Let me also say that everyone at this party was over the age of 25 and a few years out of college. Therefore, they only ride bikes when they are stationary at the gym and have lost all touch with the concept that people actually enjoy riding bikes rather than driving their car and spending money on gas.
Anyway, I'm like, "Uhh yeah, so?"
"Well, that's just stupid. You can get a BUI."
"What's a BUI??"
"Biking Under the Influence." (HAHAAHA)
"I only drank water here."
"But still. It's dangerous."
"I ride on the sidewalk."
"Well, do you have a helmet?"
"No."
"Lights?"
"No."
"A bell?"
"What?? No."
"Haley! Please tell me you at least have brakes on your bike!"
"Do you think I'm stupid?! OF COURSE I have brakes!"
"That bike looks unsafe. How old is it anyway?"
"Well, it was my grandmothers so I think it was made in the mid 1950s."
"You. Are. Joking. Me."
My friend Matt walks over.
"Here, Haley, I found this for you in the garage."
*Holds up a hideous neon green vest with reflectors on it*
"What the hell is that?! I'm not wearing that!"
"How are people going to see you? You are going to get hit!"
"I'm not going to get hit. I already told you I ride on the sidewalk and no cars ride on the sidewalk. If they do, they are going to be in some trouble, not me. Besides, I'm wearing a hot pink shirt - it's good enough."
"Haley, that's not hot pink. That's a faded baby pink and it basically looks white in the dark."
"Same thing."
*all sigh in exasperation*
"I feel like we should follow you home in our car."
"Don't be silly! I'll be fine. I do this all the time."
"This just doesn't seem safe to me."
"Don't you talk to me about safety, missy! If your sister only knew some of the things you did."
"If you tell her, I'll kill you."
"I won't tell her. Just let me ride in peace."
"Ugh fine, but text us when you get home."
"Will do."
So I'm riding home and it's a really nice ride. People out at bars are giving me funny looks like they've never seen a bike before. Seriously, people.
So I'm about to cross a street and I totally have the right-of-way. I'm watching the cars to make sure they see me and I see them and they aren't going to run this red light and hit me. I have a feeling in my gut about this one car and my gut is telling me just to wait a little but then all of a sudden my feet start peddaling.
Then the car starts to go! I'm right in front of the car and he doesn't see me! So I put my foot out in front of the car to keep him from hitting my bike and then he finally sees me but not in time. Contact is made.
I'm knocked off my bike but I don't fall over. You can thank my stabilization exercises from rowing workouts for that. The man rolls down his window starts apologizing immensely and is about to get out of his car when I convince him I'm fine. I cross the crosswalk walking my bike and I try to get back on but the seat is all twisted. DAMNIT! I spend a few minutes trying to sit on my all twisted up seat and resolve that it's just too uncomfortable and I'll have to walk my bike the remaining mile home. I take a few steps and I'm like, "This is ridiculous. I'm not walking all the way home." So I take a few minutes, fix my bike, and then it's ride-able again. I go home and go to bed and check the status of myself and my bike.
No blood, no bruises, and the bike is fine. Ok, all good. Time for bed. I was tired!
The End.
Showing posts with label rowing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rowing. Show all posts
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Hi.
It's me.
Do you remember me?
Probably not.
I barely remember me.
But, yes, this is real life. I'm here. I'm writing. I'm doing it...despite the totally inappropriate hour where I will be waking up in 3 hours to go to a 2 hour practice to do what enables me to be in this wonderful city doing what I love surrounded by the people who keep me going every single day. (Except for all of you at home reading this, of course. Even though I don't talk to you, you keep me going. I do think about you. And I'm not just saying that. I think too much. About you. And about things. Which is why I'm here instead of sleeping and preparing my body and mind for the grueling practice awaiting me. I can't sleep when I think. And vice versa.)
Do you ever wonder about that? Do you ever wish you wouldn't think so much? I do. All the time. I think way too much. About a lot of things. Which is why, in my room, there are journals hidden all over the place full of stories and thoughts and things that I think about when I lie awake at night. I'll never get this time back. I'll never get this time to sleep back. And it's ok. It's what I choose.....I suppose. Unconsciously.
Anyway, I have lots of stories for you. I was thinking about them today as I ran. Running is my blogging time. And I've been meaning to get back to you. It's been a month. AKA too long. You need to know what I'm up to, right? I figured. Well, the answer is: lots of things. Too many things. Which is why I have many stories to write for you. But not now. I need to take a little nap before practice. But how about a little taste, eh? Ok, that'll do.
I'll give you the titles of the stories. They are: "The Date"; "The Fight"; "The Dedicated Starbucks Customer (and it's not me)"; "The New Melrose Place"; "The Bad News Bears"; "The Sacrifice"; "The Happiness"; "The Process"; "The Power Struggle". Enough? I thought so. Hopefully I'll be able to pound these out soon. And, I'll be honest. It's not just for you. It's for me too.
You see, I'm obsessed with recording things. I'm not sure why. Perhaps it's a self-preservation thing where, if I forget, it'll be there in writing and/or recording to remind me. My friends look at me like I'm psycho when I shove a video camera in their face BUT they are incredibly happy when I capture the insane moments of our lives that show us exactly who we are. And, yes, I'm not overexaggerating. You see yourself in a different way when you are recorded. Trust me. I never thought I was an idiot UNTIL I saw myself looking like an idiot.
Check yourself before you wreck yourself.
Nah, I think I'll wreck myself. That way I can pick up the pieces and write about it. That's what it's all about, right?
Do you remember me?
Probably not.
I barely remember me.
But, yes, this is real life. I'm here. I'm writing. I'm doing it...despite the totally inappropriate hour where I will be waking up in 3 hours to go to a 2 hour practice to do what enables me to be in this wonderful city doing what I love surrounded by the people who keep me going every single day. (Except for all of you at home reading this, of course. Even though I don't talk to you, you keep me going. I do think about you. And I'm not just saying that. I think too much. About you. And about things. Which is why I'm here instead of sleeping and preparing my body and mind for the grueling practice awaiting me. I can't sleep when I think. And vice versa.)
Do you ever wonder about that? Do you ever wish you wouldn't think so much? I do. All the time. I think way too much. About a lot of things. Which is why, in my room, there are journals hidden all over the place full of stories and thoughts and things that I think about when I lie awake at night. I'll never get this time back. I'll never get this time to sleep back. And it's ok. It's what I choose.....I suppose. Unconsciously.
Anyway, I have lots of stories for you. I was thinking about them today as I ran. Running is my blogging time. And I've been meaning to get back to you. It's been a month. AKA too long. You need to know what I'm up to, right? I figured. Well, the answer is: lots of things. Too many things. Which is why I have many stories to write for you. But not now. I need to take a little nap before practice. But how about a little taste, eh? Ok, that'll do.
I'll give you the titles of the stories. They are: "The Date"; "The Fight"; "The Dedicated Starbucks Customer (and it's not me)"; "The New Melrose Place"; "The Bad News Bears"; "The Sacrifice"; "The Happiness"; "The Process"; "The Power Struggle". Enough? I thought so. Hopefully I'll be able to pound these out soon. And, I'll be honest. It's not just for you. It's for me too.
You see, I'm obsessed with recording things. I'm not sure why. Perhaps it's a self-preservation thing where, if I forget, it'll be there in writing and/or recording to remind me. My friends look at me like I'm psycho when I shove a video camera in their face BUT they are incredibly happy when I capture the insane moments of our lives that show us exactly who we are. And, yes, I'm not overexaggerating. You see yourself in a different way when you are recorded. Trust me. I never thought I was an idiot UNTIL I saw myself looking like an idiot.
Check yourself before you wreck yourself.
Nah, I think I'll wreck myself. That way I can pick up the pieces and write about it. That's what it's all about, right?
Monday, November 15, 2010
I Died.
Kind of. Almost. Basically.
As much as I joke, this was actually really scary.
It was last Friday. We had a 6,000 meter ergometer test. This is one of the most difficult things I do in my life. This is a test where you push your body to its ultimate limit of exhaustion.....and then beyond that. Literally. You'll see. An ergometer is a rowing machine. I'm sure you've seen it in the gym. Maybe you've even hopped on it and pulled on the handle for a few minutes. But there is no possible way that you have EVER experienced the pain of an erg test. We do these multiple times a year. Stressful and painful, I always feel completely shitty and totally awesome at the same time whenever I finish. I think it has something to do with how crazy I am and the fact that I love pain in my muscles and body. Huh.
Anyway, I prepared myself all week by eating extremely healthy and getting a lot of sleep. I drank tons of water and even counted my fat, protein, and carbohydrate gram intake for a few days. (Crazy, yes.) I made sure I ate enough. But nothing could prepare me for what was going to happen during this erg test.
I started off strong. I was pounding out each stroke. I was so fit. I was flying. I was doing better than I had anticipated. Around the 3,000 meter mark, I started feeling sick to my stomach. Only half-way through and I felt like I was going to vom. It wasn't nausea caused by food; rather, it was the lactic acid that had built up in my legs and had finally made its way to my stomach. This is where you hit your anarobic threshold and your body needs to stop doing what it's doing. "Great," I thought. "Only half-way done and my body is already telling me that it has had enough and I need to stop immediately." But I couldn't stop. I was in the middle of a test. And there was no way I was quitting, even if my body was telling me that it was getting sick.
I'm coming up to the last 500 meters when all of a sudden I get tunnel vision. I can barely see anything in front of me. Yet, somehow, I still keep going as fast as I possibly can. "I'm almost finished with this MOFO test and there is NO WAY that I'm quitting. Even if I can't see." A few of my teammates are cheering behind me to sprint as fast as I can in order to get the best possible time. I'm doing everything in my power to stay conscious and finish the test.
I don't remember the last 200 meters (roughly one minute). I don't remember finishing. I know I didn't pass out, but I don't remember if I fell to the ground, stood up, or what. One of my teammates was there and helped me get off the erg (I only remember this because she was still with me about 20 minutes later and told me). I was so hot. I couldn't stand to be inside, but I couldn't walk either. She helped me walk outside where I immediately began vomiting and fell to the ground. I lost control of my entire body and couldn't talk, couldn't see, and (this is kind of embarrassing) began going to the bathroom. I completely lost control of my entire body as a result of this test. They had to pour water all over me to try to get my body temperature to decrease. But I was still so hot. And couldn't move.
And my heart rate was still at 190. This is 190 beats per minute. AKA, this is your heart rate when you are running/erging/whatever at your absolute hardest. But I had stopped doing any cardio 10 minutes ago. My heart rate should have slowed back to normal within 2 minutes of stopping. Something was very wrong.
I was still vomiting. I was still on the ground. Two of my teammates were looking at me like they had seen a ghost. They had. "Haley, you're so pale. You're as white as a sheet! You need some help. We need to go to the training room immediately." But I still couldn't walk. I could barely keep my eyes open. My teammate had to walk me to the training room, taking 10 minutes for a 2 minute walk.
We are about 100 meters away from the door when my entire arm begins to go numb. I had remained calm and didn't really feel like anything was wrong (weird, I know) until I couldn't feel a part of my body. I immediately begin freaking out. My teammate gets even more concerned. She runs to open the door and I slowly saunter through. We make it down the stairs and I'm on the verge of tears. I don't know what's going on. But I feel so sick. And I'm so hot that I can barely stand it. We finally make it downstairs and I lay down on the ground. I don't have enough energy to remain standing. I was so hot, but I wasn't sweating. My body was on fire. My teammate runs to get more water and begins pouring water all over me in the hallway. My trainer finally comes out to see what's going on and coaxes me into the training room and gets me to lay down and drink some water and Gatorade. I immediately begin throwing it up. My body can't handle anything at this point. She talks to me and helps me relax and gives me some medicine and electrolytes to rehydrate my body and get my blood sugar back to normal. I can finally down some Gatorade.
"Did you eat enough today? Did you sleep enough last night? What have you been doing all week? Did you do anything different before this erg test than other previous ones?"
I did everything normally, if not better than before other erg tests. I don't know why this happened.
The only thing I can think of is that I pushed my body completely and utterly outside of its comfort zone. And past its acceptable point of exhaustion.
Finally, (this is so weird and shows just how crazy I am) but as soon as I was feeling better and was leaving the training room (like an hour after the test), I thought, "Wow, I kind of want to do that again." Not the whole vomiting and "can't-remember-what-happened-to-me" thing, but the whole "pushing-myself-harder-than-I-ever-have-before" thing. You see, my dream is to be a marathon runner. So now, knowing that I ultimately crave this kind of pain and fatigue in my muscles and body, I know that I can and will achieve this dream.
Everything I went through this afternoon was worth it. Not only did I get my season personal record, but I got my all-time personal record!!! I'm so happy!! So welcome. Welcome to the world of college athletics where you put your body through hell just to achieve a certain number. And you do it willingly and happily. Over and over again.
A few weeks ago when I was talking to our assistant coach about running, she said, "Pain: you either hate it and learn push through it or you learn to love it."
And I think I've learned to love it.
As much as I joke, this was actually really scary.
It was last Friday. We had a 6,000 meter ergometer test. This is one of the most difficult things I do in my life. This is a test where you push your body to its ultimate limit of exhaustion.....and then beyond that. Literally. You'll see. An ergometer is a rowing machine. I'm sure you've seen it in the gym. Maybe you've even hopped on it and pulled on the handle for a few minutes. But there is no possible way that you have EVER experienced the pain of an erg test. We do these multiple times a year. Stressful and painful, I always feel completely shitty and totally awesome at the same time whenever I finish. I think it has something to do with how crazy I am and the fact that I love pain in my muscles and body. Huh.
Anyway, I prepared myself all week by eating extremely healthy and getting a lot of sleep. I drank tons of water and even counted my fat, protein, and carbohydrate gram intake for a few days. (Crazy, yes.) I made sure I ate enough. But nothing could prepare me for what was going to happen during this erg test.
I started off strong. I was pounding out each stroke. I was so fit. I was flying. I was doing better than I had anticipated. Around the 3,000 meter mark, I started feeling sick to my stomach. Only half-way through and I felt like I was going to vom. It wasn't nausea caused by food; rather, it was the lactic acid that had built up in my legs and had finally made its way to my stomach. This is where you hit your anarobic threshold and your body needs to stop doing what it's doing. "Great," I thought. "Only half-way done and my body is already telling me that it has had enough and I need to stop immediately." But I couldn't stop. I was in the middle of a test. And there was no way I was quitting, even if my body was telling me that it was getting sick.
I'm coming up to the last 500 meters when all of a sudden I get tunnel vision. I can barely see anything in front of me. Yet, somehow, I still keep going as fast as I possibly can. "I'm almost finished with this MOFO test and there is NO WAY that I'm quitting. Even if I can't see." A few of my teammates are cheering behind me to sprint as fast as I can in order to get the best possible time. I'm doing everything in my power to stay conscious and finish the test.
I don't remember the last 200 meters (roughly one minute). I don't remember finishing. I know I didn't pass out, but I don't remember if I fell to the ground, stood up, or what. One of my teammates was there and helped me get off the erg (I only remember this because she was still with me about 20 minutes later and told me). I was so hot. I couldn't stand to be inside, but I couldn't walk either. She helped me walk outside where I immediately began vomiting and fell to the ground. I lost control of my entire body and couldn't talk, couldn't see, and (this is kind of embarrassing) began going to the bathroom. I completely lost control of my entire body as a result of this test. They had to pour water all over me to try to get my body temperature to decrease. But I was still so hot. And couldn't move.
And my heart rate was still at 190. This is 190 beats per minute. AKA, this is your heart rate when you are running/erging/whatever at your absolute hardest. But I had stopped doing any cardio 10 minutes ago. My heart rate should have slowed back to normal within 2 minutes of stopping. Something was very wrong.
I was still vomiting. I was still on the ground. Two of my teammates were looking at me like they had seen a ghost. They had. "Haley, you're so pale. You're as white as a sheet! You need some help. We need to go to the training room immediately." But I still couldn't walk. I could barely keep my eyes open. My teammate had to walk me to the training room, taking 10 minutes for a 2 minute walk.
We are about 100 meters away from the door when my entire arm begins to go numb. I had remained calm and didn't really feel like anything was wrong (weird, I know) until I couldn't feel a part of my body. I immediately begin freaking out. My teammate gets even more concerned. She runs to open the door and I slowly saunter through. We make it down the stairs and I'm on the verge of tears. I don't know what's going on. But I feel so sick. And I'm so hot that I can barely stand it. We finally make it downstairs and I lay down on the ground. I don't have enough energy to remain standing. I was so hot, but I wasn't sweating. My body was on fire. My teammate runs to get more water and begins pouring water all over me in the hallway. My trainer finally comes out to see what's going on and coaxes me into the training room and gets me to lay down and drink some water and Gatorade. I immediately begin throwing it up. My body can't handle anything at this point. She talks to me and helps me relax and gives me some medicine and electrolytes to rehydrate my body and get my blood sugar back to normal. I can finally down some Gatorade.
"Did you eat enough today? Did you sleep enough last night? What have you been doing all week? Did you do anything different before this erg test than other previous ones?"
I did everything normally, if not better than before other erg tests. I don't know why this happened.
The only thing I can think of is that I pushed my body completely and utterly outside of its comfort zone. And past its acceptable point of exhaustion.
Finally, (this is so weird and shows just how crazy I am) but as soon as I was feeling better and was leaving the training room (like an hour after the test), I thought, "Wow, I kind of want to do that again." Not the whole vomiting and "can't-remember-what-happened-to-me" thing, but the whole "pushing-myself-harder-than-I-ever-have-before" thing. You see, my dream is to be a marathon runner. So now, knowing that I ultimately crave this kind of pain and fatigue in my muscles and body, I know that I can and will achieve this dream.
Everything I went through this afternoon was worth it. Not only did I get my season personal record, but I got my all-time personal record!!! I'm so happy!! So welcome. Welcome to the world of college athletics where you put your body through hell just to achieve a certain number. And you do it willingly and happily. Over and over again.
A few weeks ago when I was talking to our assistant coach about running, she said, "Pain: you either hate it and learn push through it or you learn to love it."
And I think I've learned to love it.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Evidence
Evidence that either I'm insane or St. Nicholas exists:
This morning I woke up early to go running with a friend. I don't think my head is screwed on quite right because I have been losing my keys at least once if not twice a day. And it's driving me nuts. So I made a promise to myself that I would put them on my nightstand right when I walk in every time I walk in. EVERY TIME. So at 6:30 this morning when I was supposed to be meeting my friend--yeah you guessed it--I couldn't find my keys. ANYWHERE. I turned my room inside out looking for them. Literally. I dumped out all of my bags and purses. I took all of my clothes out of my closet and off of my shelves. I took everything off of my bed--including my comforter which I carried into the other room and put onto our living room table to make sure it wasn't hiding in my bed. I cleared everything off my desk, unplugged my computer and moved that too, and looked all around my chair. I also checked my nightstand about 5 bajillion times. And I was so frustrated. They seriously had to have evaporated into thin air because I KNOW I had them last night. So I gave up and decided to take a break and run....and pray really hard to St. Nicholas.
So when I came back I asked the porter for an extra key. He said, "Alright I won't make you sign for it, but bring it back STRAIGHT AWAY." Oh great. This could take all day and then the porter will be hunting me down around campus. So I scour my room for another 15 minutes and although I'm 100% positive it's not on my nightstand because I already checked it 20 million times, I decide, "What the hell? I'll check it again."
And.........yes......they were on my nightstand. Wow. I've hit an all-time low.
So, thank you St. Nicholas. I'm thanking you because I believe in you. I believe that you magically put my keys there for me. And I believe this because I don't want to believe that I'm insane. But I almost do....
On a better note: I ran along the Thames River today. And saw three different boats: people in a four, a double, and a pair. And I got so excited. I just know that while I'm over here I have to row on the Thames. That's just an experience that needs to happen. So I was debating whether or not to say something to these people when all of a sudden my mouth yells out: "WHO DO YOU ROW FOR?!" They looked at me like I was crazy. The two women said a name, but I couldn't understand it.
"I'm sorry....WHAAAT!?"
"Llsnfneknanld"
"I'm sorry...I can't hear you." I could hear them fine--just couldn't understand them. They were speaking with marbles in their mouths, I swear.
"FKNElskdnfe"
"I apologize...can you spell that for me?"
After about 5 more minutes of yelling, I finally got the information from them. And I'm so excited! I hope it works out! These are the times that I'm glad I'm a bold person. Because not many people would have the guts (or weirdness) to yell from the banks of a river to people sitting in a boat. It's a little intimidating, to be honest. But I'm glad I did it.
Head of The Thames:
Oh yeah, and stuff I forgot to show you:
Don't make fun of me.
This morning I woke up early to go running with a friend. I don't think my head is screwed on quite right because I have been losing my keys at least once if not twice a day. And it's driving me nuts. So I made a promise to myself that I would put them on my nightstand right when I walk in every time I walk in. EVERY TIME. So at 6:30 this morning when I was supposed to be meeting my friend--yeah you guessed it--I couldn't find my keys. ANYWHERE. I turned my room inside out looking for them. Literally. I dumped out all of my bags and purses. I took all of my clothes out of my closet and off of my shelves. I took everything off of my bed--including my comforter which I carried into the other room and put onto our living room table to make sure it wasn't hiding in my bed. I cleared everything off my desk, unplugged my computer and moved that too, and looked all around my chair. I also checked my nightstand about 5 bajillion times. And I was so frustrated. They seriously had to have evaporated into thin air because I KNOW I had them last night. So I gave up and decided to take a break and run....and pray really hard to St. Nicholas.
So when I came back I asked the porter for an extra key. He said, "Alright I won't make you sign for it, but bring it back STRAIGHT AWAY." Oh great. This could take all day and then the porter will be hunting me down around campus. So I scour my room for another 15 minutes and although I'm 100% positive it's not on my nightstand because I already checked it 20 million times, I decide, "What the hell? I'll check it again."
And.........yes......they were on my nightstand. Wow. I've hit an all-time low.
So, thank you St. Nicholas. I'm thanking you because I believe in you. I believe that you magically put my keys there for me. And I believe this because I don't want to believe that I'm insane. But I almost do....
On a better note: I ran along the Thames River today. And saw three different boats: people in a four, a double, and a pair. And I got so excited. I just know that while I'm over here I have to row on the Thames. That's just an experience that needs to happen. So I was debating whether or not to say something to these people when all of a sudden my mouth yells out: "WHO DO YOU ROW FOR?!" They looked at me like I was crazy. The two women said a name, but I couldn't understand it.
"I'm sorry....WHAAAT!?"
"Llsnfneknanld"
"I'm sorry...I can't hear you." I could hear them fine--just couldn't understand them. They were speaking with marbles in their mouths, I swear.
"FKNElskdnfe"
"I apologize...can you spell that for me?"
After about 5 more minutes of yelling, I finally got the information from them. And I'm so excited! I hope it works out! These are the times that I'm glad I'm a bold person. Because not many people would have the guts (or weirdness) to yell from the banks of a river to people sitting in a boat. It's a little intimidating, to be honest. But I'm glad I did it.
Head of The Thames:
Oh yeah, and stuff I forgot to show you:
Don't make fun of me.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
What a Beautiful Person (Part I)
I owe my current disposition to two people: my father and my old doubles partner, we'll call her Hippie. They are the reason I row and, therefore, the reason I go to SMU. And I love SMU.
Back in the day, I played volleyball. And I was really serious about it. I started when I was 7 years old, played club volleyball when I was in grade school and traveled to different states to compete. I continued playing in high school. I wanted to play volleyball in college. It was at one club volleyball tournament my freshman year of high school when one of my teammates started talking about erging. "What's erging?" She explained that it was a way to get in shape for rowing. "What's rowing?" She gave me a leaflet about rowing and said I should come to a meeting and maybe try it. I was uninterested. My dad made me go; he rowed in college. I was sucked in by them both and I hated it.
I really did not like rowing at all at first. At all. It would be Monday at practice and I would be like, "Ok..uhh...it's Monday and I'm tired already and I don't really want to do this right now." And then Tuesday's afternoon practice would be over and I'd be like, "OK! Only two more practices until the weekend!" Wednesday would proceed in the same manner until I would feel utter relief come Thursday. Every week. Hippie and I were doubles partners in the Spring and Summer of 2005 where we spent a lot of time in the boat together and competed in many regattas (rowing races) including Club Nationals in Indianapolis, Indiana. We did fairly well and I was really proud of us. We were goofy during the whole trip and told each other stuff we promised not to tell others. Like when we were going up to the starting line and she had to go to the bathroom so bad that it hurt and asked me what she should do. I said, "If it will make you go slower if you have to go the whole time, then go to the bathroom right now. I want to win." So she tried to pee in a water bottle and failed. We were laughing hysterically and she made me promise not to tell anyone and I said ok.....until the next practice when I told our whole team.
Back in the day, I played volleyball. And I was really serious about it. I started when I was 7 years old, played club volleyball when I was in grade school and traveled to different states to compete. I continued playing in high school. I wanted to play volleyball in college. It was at one club volleyball tournament my freshman year of high school when one of my teammates started talking about erging. "What's erging?" She explained that it was a way to get in shape for rowing. "What's rowing?" She gave me a leaflet about rowing and said I should come to a meeting and maybe try it. I was uninterested. My dad made me go; he rowed in college. I was sucked in by them both and I hated it.
I really did not like rowing at all at first. At all. It would be Monday at practice and I would be like, "Ok..uhh...it's Monday and I'm tired already and I don't really want to do this right now." And then Tuesday's afternoon practice would be over and I'd be like, "OK! Only two more practices until the weekend!" Wednesday would proceed in the same manner until I would feel utter relief come Thursday. Every week. Hippie and I were doubles partners in the Spring and Summer of 2005 where we spent a lot of time in the boat together and competed in many regattas (rowing races) including Club Nationals in Indianapolis, Indiana. We did fairly well and I was really proud of us. We were goofy during the whole trip and told each other stuff we promised not to tell others. Like when we were going up to the starting line and she had to go to the bathroom so bad that it hurt and asked me what she should do. I said, "If it will make you go slower if you have to go the whole time, then go to the bathroom right now. I want to win." So she tried to pee in a water bottle and failed. We were laughing hysterically and she made me promise not to tell anyone and I said ok.....until the next practice when I told our whole team.
We raced together in 2005, 2006, and 2007. Our twosome broke up in the Fall of 2007 (our senior year) when she decided not to row. I was sad, but I rowed anyway. It was not the same without her. Practice wasn't the same, the team's chemistry wasn't the same, and rowing wasn't the same. Rowing was different for me, so I decided not to row in the Spring of 2008.
But she did.
I did other things that spring and it was weird not to be rowing with her. Then we went separate ways when college came; she went to KU, one of the most liberal schools in America, and I went to SMU, the 3rd most conservative school in the U.S. When I would visit my then-boyfriend at KU, I would see her up there, totally in her element. Unfamiliar with her style, I would ask, "What are you wearing?" She would smile and say, "Turnstyles!" (A store similar to that of Goodwill and The Salvation Army.) I was in Uggs and a North Face jacket.
Whenever I talked to a friend at KU over the last two years, I would ask about Hippie. "Well I think she's dating so-and-so, but I'm not sure anymore", "She's really liberal now and likes to party", "Umm I don't know...I think some of her hair is pink but maybe that wasn't her..." Hearing about her always made me smile. And I wanted to pick up the phone, but never did.
On breaks from school, some of our old team members and coaches would get together for breakfast back in KC and I would get to talk to her for a little while. I always loved hearing her thoughts on the world, her political views, how strongly she felt about the current administration, and what she was doing lately, cutting class, dying her hair or otherwise.
While she led a "be free, be happy" lifestyle where even the worst thing that could possibly happen "wasn't that bad", I held a strict schedule that included getting up at 5 AM (most likely when she was getting home for the night), practice, food, class, practice, food, homework, sleep, repeat where getting through the day was the hardest thing of my life. Two people who had once spent hours and hours a week together are now at two very different points in their lives. We went to breakfast the other day and I was really happy I got to see her. Which brings me to my next point....
To be continued. This post is long enough.
But for now, I love you Hippie and I have always admired you from afar. Even though we don't talk all the time, I often think of you and look fondly on our many times in the double. You are the reason I loved rowing so much. And I don't think I've ever told anyone that.
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