March 27, 2008

2,000 meters. In the hours approaching our first race, I couldn't convince myself that those meters would go by quickly. Almost eight minutes of sheer pain awaited me, and as any rower can tell you, eight minutes can seem like a very long time.

This past weekend, Bucknell Women's Rowing did "something we've never done before," in the words of Coach Kish; we not only completed our first race of the season, but also our second and third, all against different opponents and all within 24 hours. Yet I think it's safe to say that our team is well prepared for tough weekends like this. After just returning from an arduous spring break in Georgia, it seemed natural to pack up again and head south to Virginia for another bout of non-stop rowing.

As we left campus, I couldn't believe that spring break was behind us, and that it was already racing season again. In retrospect, the year seemed to have flown by. It felt like only yesterday that I had returned to campus after summer vacation! But then I remembered the long Saturday morning practices in the fall: weight lifting followed by marathon sculling sessions where Coach wouldn't even give us a water break. I remembered running stadiums before the sun was up and erging next to the family Christmas tree over winter vacation. I remembered the squats and deadlifts, the pushups and pull-ups: I couldn't begin to count them all. How many meters had I erged? How many hours were spent practicing? How many days of my life would be going into these eight excruciating minutes?

As we prepared for the race, my coach gathered up our four to discuss our plan and to settle our nerves. "You don't know how lucky you are to be able to race at this level," she told us earnestly, "and you only have four years to do it. I'm jealous of you guys." Then we launched, warmed up, and raced down the course. Before we knew it, it was over--or at least it seems like it was when I try to remember the details now. And it wasn't until after we finished that I could fully grasp the truth in what my coach had said. When I saw that my teammates were just as dead as I was, when I recognized a glint of pride in my coach's eye, and when I realized that some of the best rowers in the nation were sitting in the boats next to me, the months of training finally made sense. True, I'm perpetually tired, sore, and short on time. Yet I know that after I graduate, the burn of competition will gradually fade, and when I look back on my years as a collegiate rower, my experience will seem shorter than eight minutes and more rewarding than any 2,000-meter victory.

- Meghan O'Reilly '10