Rowing has always held a certain allure for me. Not only is it rooted in a very rich tradition, but it has remained a very elegant sport over time. Many boathouses worldwide are beautiful architectural specimens, often with little expense spared in the interior decor as well. Walking into one is akin to visiting the carriage house or cook’s kitchen of a mansion on Bellevue Avenue, and they all seem to retain a scent of childhood camp days and Ivy League classrooms. Dark wood, beadboard, and vintage photographs all create the sensation of having stepped back in time and of now being a part of an historic institution. There is a connection felt in being among that history and accepted into an elite club of highly disciplined sportsmen and women. At the boathouse, steps are taken in exactitude and steeped in a tradition of accepted best practices that are rooted in respect for one’s fellow rower, the vessel, and the water.

I have loved rowing since college when I would watch the teams practicing on the Charles. I have always admired the way the boats glide through the water rowed by oarsmen and women who, like water fowl, make the whole enterprise look so graceful that you can forget for a moment how hard they’re working beneath the surface.  

Occupied with many other tasks since my university days, only recently have I joined the local boathouse and begun to learn this long-observed and loved sport. I’m thrilled to say that not once has it disappointed my expectations. The precise skills learned to keep a rowing scull upright and balanced on the water takes an incredible amount of focus and discipline. There is also a sense of trust in the process that if I maintain my form and technique, and if I trust the engineering of the boat, and if I trust the whole tradition of people who have done this before me, then I will succeed. I will stay afloat. I will not roll. I will know how to navigate the changing currents.

After having started in my first beginner’s barge class this winter, Kate, our studio manager, caught wind of my new endeavor and asked me to tell her about it. “It’s a huge beginner’s boat,” I said. “Think Viking ship with the coach standing at the stern.” Her immediate and exuberant response was, “That would be a great team-building exercise for the studio!”

The image of our studio team rowing along the Seekonk River like a pile of novice Vikings has not since left my mind and sends me into fits of laughter. We would obviously all come equipped with Lotuff leather backpacks or Slings, with Liz, our account executive, being chosen as the Viking hostage princess or barge bartender (jury’s still out on that one) and Kate in the stroke seat setting the pace for all. Designer Nic would most certainly be in the bow adding strength and power, while the rest of us would fill in the middle spaces and each other’s ears with the attention to detail and mirth that overtakes the studio on a daily basis. And at the helm of the boat would be CEO Ellen as our fearless coxswain, helping us to navigate the waters of the Seekonk! Just think of the places we could go! The hilarity of it all. But Kate is absolutely right that the team mentality needed for rowing in a sweep is one of camaraderie and respect, and I am totally going to pursue getting us that barge for the next team meeting.