“Attention! Row!” My coach shouted. I took the first stroke. 3 quarters, half, 3 quarters, lengthen, full. I watched as my split time (time it takes to row five hundred meters) dropped. I continued on to my high ten strokes. I examined my screen; my split was a good twenty five seconds under my goal. My worst nightmare. I was going to fly and die. I spent the next three hundred fifty meters with no pressure trying to get my split up. I thought to myself maybe I should go for it. Then I heard my coach’s voice in my head; “Worst thing you can do is fly and die. It is a race against yourself.” Nevermind.

“Relax. find that rhythm,” I heard from behind. I spent the next ten strokes on my breathing; finding a steady rhythm that I could keep.

I was in the first five hundred meters of my first 2K. At the start of the year when my friends suggested the sport to me I never thought that it would be this hard, or include a winter season of conditioning. The whole week everyone told me how awful it would be, and the lactic acid. To say the least when I arrived I was absolutely terrified. The day before at practice we got a speech on how we would feel the lactic acid in our muscles after the first five hundred meters. The coach said it was a race against yourself, and how this causes some to fly and die; which at the moment I was beginning to do. Finally there it was, my goal split.

“Five hundred meters down!” someone shouted from behind me. I hadn’t thought about the acid, and was going strong; when I became aware of the music in the background. The only word from the music I heard all race was “acid.” Then I remembered, “You will start to feel the acid around five hundred meters in.” I looked up at my distance as if that was going to tell me if I felt the acid or not. I had 1,350 meters to go. My brain hit some trigger at this point causing me to feel the burn from the lactic acid. I just kept pushing, and was going strong. At halfway through I was holding a time just below my goal split. At this point I felt as if I was a robot going back and forth on the erg (rowing machine). My stroke rate and split were both steady. I just had to repeat this one hundred times over and I would be done.

Another coxswain came by. “Keep your heels down, Amy.” I was over compressing, a problem that took another girl out for almost three months. I began to focus on technique; my split time rose. I figured that this is a race and there are practices designated to technique. I quit that and brought my split time back.

“Come on now. Walk it down to five hundred meters. You're holding it strong now.” I looked. I was at seven hundred meters. Seventy more strokes, and I was finished. My split was right on my goal. I hit five hundred meters and brought my stroke rate up a beat to prepare for my sprint. I held it steady and found my breathing. Now I was waiting for two hundred fifty meters to show up on the screen; then I would give my all for that last minute. There it was. I began pulling harder my split dropped one second, then two, then went up one. It kept bouncing; I couldn’t hold it steady. I was exhausted.

“Come on, Amy, last ten strokes” I heard someone counting. I gave it all I had.

“Three More!” I saw my screen there it was twenty meters. I was below my goal by one second. I was satisfied I kept pulling.

“One more.” On that last stroke I gave it all I had. I was finished. I won the race against myself. I beat my goal.