4:30 A.M.
BEEP BEEP BEEP!!! The piercing shriek of my alarm reverberates through my skull. Half-asleep, I reach for my watch to shut that terrible noise off. Blissful silence. Hated wakefulness. This is the story of morning rows.
4:45 A.M.
I groggily stumble around my room, putting layers of spandex on and stuffing extra socks into my bag. Although I’m not hungry, I force myself to eat a granola bar. I turn on the bathroom lights, momentarily blinding myself with the sudden shock. Weary eyes stare back at me in the mirror. This is going to be a long day.
5:00 A.M.
My bag is packed, my teeth are brushed, and I grab my keys before I leave. Down one flight, past a few rooms, and I knock on my coxswains’ door. They emerge, hauling bags bigger than them, and we walk out the lobby, picking up another rower. It’s time to go to practice.
5:15 A.M.
After walking through an abandoned campus lit only by artificial lamps, we are on the bus, ready to depart. The air is humid, hinting at a warm day to come. A light rain sprinkles on the windows of the bus. We get on the highway, already buzzing with commuters eager to beat the traffic, and turn off to the boathouse.
5:30 A.M.
Oars are out by the docks. Line-ups are set. Hands on and we’re ready to row.
5:45 A.M.
Oars out. Count down from bow when ready. Lean away and walk it down. Here we go tech. It’s time to row.
6:00 A.M.
Muscles are warmed up. Brains are functioning at a rate almost back up to normal. The sun is up and jet skiers are doing circles around the lake, leaving wakes in their path.
7:20 A.M.
Boats are docked. Rowers are on the bus. Our muscles are tired, our brains awake, our stomachs growling. First part of the day over before most people wake up for classes. This is the reality of morning rows.
