After a pretty long hiatus from this website, I'm back. For good. In the flurry of activity that surrounded the end of the school year/crew season, I have been occupied beyond my wildest of dreams. Jobs, job interviews, regattas, etc...summer's are supposed to be relaxed, aren't they?

            Anyway, I would like to share my first experience at Dad Vails. What a year to write about.        

             I traveled to Philidelphia with my team in passenger vans, which wasn't a bad trip from Michigan. The feeling of excitement was tangible; the first time we (novice men) drove by Boathouse Row, the atmosphere was absolutely electric. The first day, we scouted out the course, rigged up the shells and went out for a practice row. My shell, the novice men's 8+, went out for a nice paddle, pretty much used as a time to get a feel for the course, the excitement, and the crowded traffic. Which was pretty insane. The docks were mucho horrible that first day until a few coaches took on the task of dock marshalling (a lot of novice coxswains were there. Not everyone stopped their shell to take into account the flow of the river, and not everyone was as crisp as my boys at getting the shell clear of the water.) In any case, the practice row.

            It wasn't supposed to be anything special, just a 500m on 500m off workout down the course twice, alternating which 500 meters were on and off between the two different runs. Well, on the way up the flow pattern, there seemed to be an abundance of day rowers out there (i.e., master's aged men single-ing around) and also the club teams holding practices. Why, I have no idea, but it was a beautiful day so I forgave them. We lined up in our lane (#2) and took off. I had made sure that I had given the coxed 4 in front of us pleeenty of room. Or so I had thought.

            I had seen them pass under the Strawberry Mansion bridge, and figured, "Hey, what the hell, they're about 750 or 800 meters out, we'll be fine." Alas, it was not to be so. We had a great start, completely set, I about crapped my pants, I swear on my grandpa's grave. I called the men down and we toodled through the next five hunderd to find--what? The four had stopped rowing. I didn't think it would be good etiqutte to row through them (and when I say "through" I mean through), so I made the decision to drill the rest of the 2k course. By pairs and fours. Because the four ahead of us either didn't see us or didn't care, and were rowing sporadically and stopping for tea time or potty break in between.