Nerves

It's been a few days since I last posted. I've been trying to make myself feel a bit better, so I can have some better outings and so I don't have to sound too negative in my posts. Thankfully, the cold I had last week seems to be clearing. My heart rate is still way higher than it should be, but the fatigue is gradually lifting. I've had a couple of trips to the lock and back in my single and today's trip felt like the best in a while.

I've been thinking a bit about the mental game of rowing. In the past, I only ever coxed crews with 4 or 8 rowers in. I didn't have to worry about how I would cope physically - I had to make sure that I knew exactly what I was meant to be doing, and where, and when, so that the rowers didn't have to worry about logistics or race plan, they just had to execute what I called. I had to know that I could look after my rowers - both keep them safe, and make sure that they ended the race feeling that I'd put them in the best position possible for a good result. This isn't always possible (one particularly galling occasion saw my boat being thrust to the outside of a bend by an incompetent 8+ we were attempting to overtake, who refused to move over, then moved over into us...) but ultimately your role is to protect your crew above all others.

My guys are the best and I will defend them to the ends of the earth!

This can be a huge mental challenge, especially if you're racing on unfamiliar water. However, it's something you can definitely prepare for. There's lots of research you can do online about a race - looking at the information provided by the organisers is a good start, but I also like to look up the course on google maps, check out the satellite view, find photos from previous years' events to see what the weather conditions seem to be like, and to try and work out what the best lines are - and of course you can ask your coach for advice. When I cox a race, I spend time thinking about the outings I've had with the crew running up to the race, and about what could potentially go wrong. That might sound quite negative, but it's a really good way of working out ways round problems when you don't actually have the pressure of having to deal with the problem right away. For example, you might think about what calls you could make if crews start to overtake you (or you want to overtake someone else) in a head race, and how you will steer - which way you should steer to get out of the way if you're the slower crew, so as not to impede people, or how aggressive to be if you're in the faster crew. In other words, there is work you can do with the internet and the experience of those who have been there before, and there's work you can do lying in bed not ready to go to sleep.

For rowing, it's a bit different. Being a good cox obviously comes from practice over time, but a lot of the race preparation described above can realistically come in the week before the race. As a rower, you can't just train for one week for a race. This means that in the run-up to an event you may be feeling very nervous that you haven't trained enough - that you shouldn't have had as many days off, or that if only you'd pushed harder in every single erg you've ever done in your life you might be unbelievably fast by now. This is the way I feel at the moment about Brit Champs, which is now less than a week away. I know I've trained quite a bit, but I would like to train more. Unfortunately, I know that I do train as much as I possibly can - I would love to do the training other people do, but my body can't handle that. Instead, I get to worry that I haven't done enough at the same time as worrying that I haven't rested enough. All of this worrying is compounded by the fact that, come Sunday, I will be alone in my little single, taking on the best that GB has to offer. I don't have other rowers to back me up and I don't have a cox to look after me. Once I'm on the water, that's it. One of the ways my coach has encouraged me to feel about Brit Champs is to see it as part of a process towards future events, instead of as the culmination of a year's work. I like that idea, and I think it's really appropriate for me since I've only just started to receive coaching.

The inevitable worrying is quite tiring though, and I don't know what to do about it. I wouldn't say I'm especially worried about any one thing in particular. I'm just anxious because I will be on a lake that I've never even seen before (except on google maps!) let alone rowed on, I don't know who my opposition will be, it's quite a lot of racing, and it's very high-profile - there will be no hiding. The fact that every time I read anything about the whole event (e.g. safety instructions, circulation plan, transport arrangements...) I just start to feel a bit sick demonstrates my nerves. I think it's nervous excitement, and I hope that once I actually get in the boat and push off and start rowing down to the start I'll feel a lot more in control. But at the moment, I just feel dreadful!

Kind of like a dog that knows it's being pathetic, but also knows it's depressed and everyone in the world is mean to it.

I know that I don't have to do it. Except, I do. I do now because I've entered, I've made it my goal and I've told other people. Most important out of those things is that it is my goal. It is something I have dared myself to do, so it is something I have to do. I have a problem with daring myself to do things. If I dare myself to jump off a 9-metre cliff into water, I have to do it, no matter how un-Tom Daley-like I am (and I'm really, really nothing like him - I don't know how he does it, he must have nerves of steel). In fact, my general approach to rowing is characterised by extreme aversion to actually being in the water. However, if you set yourself a challenge then there is nothing but ignominy in backing away from it for anything other than an extremely good reason. So far, no extremely good reason has come up to save me, so I just have to get on with it.

Yep, it's him [Him] again.

The certainty in my mind that I will do it and that I will, ultimately, be fine, is matched only by my utter terror at the idea of such a foolhardy endeavour. 'What was I thinking?!', my inner voice wails. The thing is, I had no choice. There are not enough adaptive events to be choosy about what you enter. And if I hadn't entered, I would have regretted it.

I also feel a certain sense of a clock ticking. Over the last two years, my body has deteriorated quite rapidly. I can't put off entering Brit Champs until next year because I might not be able to take part next year. I want to say that I've been, so I may as well do it now. And if I'm worried about my health impacting my performance even more than you would expect of an adaptive rower anyway (which I am), then I just need to remind myself that unless the doctors find a way to change my DNA then this might well be the healthiest I will ever be for the rest of my life. It's not an especially cheery thought, but it's rather good at giving me a kick up the backside to stop moaning and just get on with it. Also, there will be stalls selling rowing-related things, and there's nothing I like more than a bit of kit shopping.

'The correct number of lycras to own is n+1, where n is the number you currently own.' see The Rules of Rowing

So, given that there's no obvious way out, what can I do about the nerves? The second biggest thing, I think, is to train. Training is a good way of getting rid of nerves, not only because it addresses the fear of not being fast enough but also because it allows a release of tension and frustration. What else? Well, there's Downton Abbey that I need to catch up on. Also, I'm looking forward to seeing Rosie at the weekend, who will provide the canine element of my support team - and of course my mum, who will be the Chief Hugging Element! I've got something fun to look forward to for immediately after the event (riding!), which helps. I've got work to do which is a bit distracting (not enough!) and lots of music to play and sing, which is more so.

Beyond that, I think I should embrace the nerves. Nerves are inevitable. The single biggest thing that I think will help me is to think. I like thinking. I like working things out. I like having plans, and knowing what I'm meant to be doing. I do this with most aspects of my life, so thinking about the logistics of this Sunday will be no different. I hope that by thinking about the day in a positive way I will be able to work some of the fears out of my system. Lots of fears and worries come from those things that we don't fully mull over. They eat away at us because we don't sit down with them, make them a cup of tea, and take them to task over their irritating habits. Therefore, I am going to make a list of the things that worry me about a weekend. I will then address each point in turn until I am satisfied that I am no longer feeling sick about it, and instead am excited.

That's the plan, anyway. I'll let you know how it goes.