Everyone has seen, if not in person then via the internet, a dripping wet cat. They’ve resigned themselves to their fate, silently plotting your doom for the endless torture they’ve had to endure. Occasionally   you can hear them grumbling under their breath. I’m pretty sure that’s what I looked like this morning as I entered my office building. There has to be another word for this, but all I could come up with was the coxswain’s walk of shame. Obviously, not a one night stand in the boathouse, as much fun as that does sound, but instead wearing the true badge of honor from a morning spent in the bow of our team’s new four.
While I am silently plotting my revenge for my bow seat (you know who you are) don’t mistake this as me complaining. I was ecstatic the coaches had trusted me in the brand new boat, only my second time in a bowloader. For those unfamiliar with this term, rather than the coxswain sitting in the stern of the boat, facing the stroke seat, in a bowloader, the coxswain practically lays into the hull of the bow with the rowers facing away and behind you. If you’re used to being in the stern, which I am, it can be lonely and make you feel slightly disconnected with the boat. But as all these months, and this morning, has taught me, it forces me to pay attention to the boat, feel it’s rhythm to understand what’s happening.
This morning, we did six seat races. Those are practically sprint race pieces and after a few races, switch rowers in a specific seat between boats to see who is fastest. The coaches use this as a way to help build a fast, strong boat. Up and down the river we went. And though it was close to 70 degrees this morning, the water was far from that balmy temperature. If I had to guess, it was probably between 50 and 60 degrees.
I should say, this is one of the hazards of a bowloader. The coxswain is going to get wet, I just don’t think I had any idea exactly how wet I would be by the end of practice. I’ve been soaked in the stern, but that’s usually been due to white caps or wake from other team’s launches. (knock on wood) So far, never from flipping a boat.
If I had been smart last night when I was packing my clothes for today, or even this morning when I woke up, I would have packed an extra sports bra. Clearly, the logical part of my brain had shut down. So as we went up and down the river, I attempted to hold the front of my shirt away from my body in an attempt to keep the one sports bra I had dry. By the fourth trip down the river, I realized I was fighting a losing battle.
This is one of the many times I’m grateful I’m not well endowed. (In case some of my readers who’ve never met me, now you know.) This means, it’s a little easier with enough layers to get away with not wearing a bra. I felt like I was taking a page out of the L Word this morning as I got ready in my building’s gym. If you haven’t noticed, none of the women in that show ever wear bras. When I came out and got the rules (not really) about the gay handshake and the gay walk, no one ever told me about that one.
With a white t-shirt and a new button down, I went up to my office and quickly asked two female co-workers if they could tell I wasn’t wearing a bar. Which PS, that was a pretty awkward moment for me. Shy me who would never, ever call attention to my chest region (notice I’m not even using the word). They were good sports, though, and confirmed I was safe.
I’m sure my girl scout troop leader would be disappointed because I didn’t take the “always be prepared” rule to heart. It could have been worse in terms of what I’d forgot. But my new special rower friend should be prepared because I like to return favors, even if it’s his own special bath in the Anacostia River. But he should also know, it’s only because I love him.
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