Don’t screw up. That was the last piece advice I was given before being shoved off the old, wooden dock.

“This is it girls, the moment you have all been waiting for, the ‘impossible race’ against the Oakland Catholic’s best boat,” our coxswain calmly told us through her microphone. I looked back to see seven panicked faces.

“As stroke, it is my job to keep this boat at a steady rate and make sure there is no slide rush, but everything else has to come from you. I know that many people have doubts that we will win this race, but we have trained for weeks on this course and every single one of you are great rowers who have the potential to beat Oakland Catholic.” Smiles started to spread through the boat and I knew I had calmed their nerves. At least for the time being.

As we started our warm up with fours on the square, I could feel my rigor, an attachment off the side of the boat that holds the oar, start to tense up. When I looked down to see the complication I saw ice forming on the metal. The night before I read the temperature was supposed to drop to 25 degrees. This was going to be a long day.
I looked back to see the start inching closer and closer to us. Oakland Catholic was already there waiting. I looked at Katie, our coxswain since day one. She just smiled and nodded. This race was going to be hard, but we had it in us to pull out ahead.

The officials began lining us up. No one dared to talk. We just stared straight ahead and waited for the official to call attention. When my blade entered the water I pushed my seat back along with my hands. The blade glided through the the water in one fluid and forceful motion. One bridge at a time. As the shadow of the first one crept up our bow, I saw that I had Oakland’s middle pair. We were in front by half the boat and needed to stay strong through the end.

Up the slide, catch, drive, finish. Up the slide, catch, drive, finish. My hand started to burn, and I knew a blister was ripping. My left hamstring cramped up and I felt a nerve pinch in my shoulder. I can’t stop. Not now, after all the work we had put in for this race. To my left is the marina with several cheering parents. One bridge left. We have more than two boat lengths on Oakland and a little less than one kilometer to go. Every girl is moving in sync and the boat is moving as one. Up the slide, catch, drive, finish. Until we hear the horn that is all we need to do. Up the slide, catch, drive, finish.

Finally, the sharp, sweet sound of the horn rang across the river telling us that we had just won our race. This was the race that everyone had doubts about. Even our coach told us not to get our hopes up for a medal.

This is what it feels like to do the impossible.