There is something so beautiful about achieving perfect harmony.
Take an 8+ boat. The goal is to have 8 rowers in perfect sync, catching and releasing their blades rhythmically at the cadence called for by the coxswain. But the catch and release is only the beginning. Lots of magic happens between the catch and release. In an ideal world, blades hover deliberately above the water, squaring up smoothly in unison. Eight handles mechanically pop the blade out of the water at the finish, only to take yet another stroke. You don’t need to see it to know when it happens. You can feel it. Despite intense pain, you reach a state of euphoria. For mere moments you’re in perfect tune with yourself, your team, the water, the universe…
To achieve the sublime, both rowers and coxswain must propel themselves out of their comfort zone. For coxswains, that includes mental exercise that will help them transition to fearless leaders. When I was new to the sport, I tried to memorize my older sister’s coxing tape. I was an overwhelmed novice coxswain; she was a calm, cool, and collected varsity leader.
I listened to her tape on repeat over the next week. I had a race approaching, and wanted to be ready.
When race day came, I entered the starting line, feeling nervous. I calmed myself down by telling myself that I had listened to that old tape a million times, had even memorized bits and pieces, and had practiced quietly in my room before I fell asleep. I called for bow seat to scull it, to lock-in my point, then put my hand down. “Breathe,” I told my crew quietly. “We got this.” I followed my own advice. Sitting perfectly still, I took a deep breath and waited for the call. I worried the rowers could hear my nervous heart beating through the microphone.
Attention…GO!
I counted the first big power move of the race, my eyes flashing between the stroke rate blinking on the cox-box and the fierceness of my stroke seat’s eyes. By the 20th stroke, my nervousness disappeared. I was too focused on the race unfolding around me to remember the words from my sister’s tape—was too focused on the present and the future to worry about the past.
To be honest, I forget the outcome of that race. What I can remember is feeling euphoric as we crossed the finish line. But what I remember most is my stroke seat sliding forward, exhausted and breathless, to pound my fist. The tape didn’t pick up on the pound—or my smile—but I’ll never be able to forget it.
How does the coxswain make the boat go faster? Not simply by calling for a higher stroke rate, or for increased pressure from the legs. The coxswain makes the boat go faster by getting to know the rowers. What makes them tick? What command can tap into that competitive spirit? What call will unite the individuals as one, motivate them to dig deeper and push through mental and physical barriers? These are the hard questions that a coxswain must ask and answer to achieve perfect balance in a boat, both physically and emotionally.
Uniformity is essential to succeed. A natural swing of seamless strokes is what the sport is all about—but achieving perfect harmony is what makes a boat fly, bonds the boat into a sisterhood, and makes you all show up again and again for 6am practice on dark, freezing cold, rainy mornings.