I’ve never really understood the phrase, “you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.” In no way, shape, or form do I consider myself at the ripe “old” age of 31 (almost 32) to actually be old. And while I’m clarifying, I also don’t consider myself to be a dog. But I do believe I am capable of learning new tricks.
When I was little it was all about sit, stay, walk, and speak. My parents got so excited when I learned to mimic their every movement, right up until I learned the phrase, “damn dog” from my father who shouted it at a dog who chased us on a bicycle  Relatives thought it was hilarious for months to get me to say “damn doggy” just by pointed at four-legged furry friends.
These days, repertoire of tricks has stretched far beyond sit, stay, and speak. In fact, as I’ve grown older, my parents are much less impressed by my ability to walk between two points or my ability to successfully articulate my thoughts. These days, my focus has been on artfully expressing myself through the written word, maneuver a motorcycle through the tourist riddled streets of Washington, D.C., as well as navigating a boat with 8 DC Strokes rowers around the Anacostia River just to name a few.
Over the past five months, I’ve been absorbing everything I could if it related to rowing. Port, starboard, the importance of “in two,” the difference between a ratio change and a ratings change, how handle heights affect the set of the boat, and that if you have an overly excited rower in the stroke seat, he just might spit on you as he attempts to breath. This morning, I added another invaluable lesson: always bring dry clothes to the boathouse.
Practice this morning consisted of four race pieces, one 8 racing another while avoiding all of the other boats on the water… while hoping the other teams’ coaches driving launches didn’t create too much wake. (That last one is usually wishful thinking.) In the middle of our first race piece, the guys (and gal) passing the other 8, we hit the wake from a launch and the rower in the stroke seat and I were soaked from the waist down. Nothing like sitting in cold water for the last half hour of practice.
Truth, though I did learn that lesson, it wasn’t the only lesson I learned this morning. I have a long way to go with developing a diverse range of motivational calls for race pieces. And as much as I appreciate all of the advice I get from rowers, everyone seems to want something different. Do/don’t call all 10 strokes in a power 10 or for the boat to catch together. How to push the rowers to catch/pass a boat or to push off a boat to keep an encroaching boat at bay. Also, before the first regatta in June, I hope I can develop a sense of how many strokes it will take for the boat to travel between Point A and Point B. Rowers don’t like to hear they have 10 strokes to the finish line when it’s actually turns out to be 20.
In addition to consulting with other coxswains on the team, YouTube has been great for this. I found a videofrom the 2011 Men’s 8 World Championship Finals. For seven minutes, I listened to calls from the coxswain as he talked the rowers through the course. “I’m even with the coxswain; push me to the stroke. Now! Push!”  ”Courage boys!” “This is the deal we made.” “500 meters to the finish.  Heads in the boat. Push!” I tried to find videos of Mary Whipple coxing, but that was harder to unearth, at least on YouTube. So I’m looking forward to trying out some of these calls during the next set of racing drills.
All my life, I hope to be actively learning something new, whether it’s a new language, a new hobby, or a new sport. In fact, in  my head I picture that looking something like Diane Keaton’s character in Something’s Gotta Give, where she teaches herself French and continues exploring and enjoying the world. If I stop learning, stop pushing myself, I know I’ll rot away on the couch absorbed in reality television. (shudder) There’s so much in this world to discover and experience, so many new skills to develop. Granted, I might not get around to trying all of them, but I’d sure like to try some, such as cage diving with great white sharks or successfully snowboarding down a mountain.
Next week, I will embark on a journey to become not just a coxswain, but a rower on the team. Like I said, I think everyone can learn new tricks; we just have to be open to them. We have to be willing to fail so that one day we can succeed. Learning isn’t about perfection, it’s about time, dedication, and being open to suggestions. As such, I’m learning how to speak less and listen more.
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