a series of life lessons from rowing - part 1

            When I graduated high school, I whole-heartedly believed that I would never have to wake up before the sunrise again.  The flaw with this belief is that it was formed before I had learned about rowing, before I had joined my university’s crew team, and before I had experienced the joy and dread of watching the sun come out over the lake at 5:30 am practices. 

A little over a year ago I began rowing and coxing for my school’s rowing team, and over the past month I have to admit that the thought of quitting has crossed my mind several times.   Scheduling conflicts, early morning practices, and a drop in motivation have all contributed to this thought that maybe I couldn’t keep up with the demands of my love for this sport, but quitting is not something that comes naturally to me.  I weigh pros and cons until they’re worn out.  I ask my friends’ opinions until they won’t talk to me anymore.  I push myself until I break rather than succumb to pride and step down.  This aversion to quitting has lead me to follow one rule when deciding when it is and is not necessary to remove myself from certain situations – “Am I continually learning anything from this experience, and is this challenging my faith in new and good ways.”

Rowing is a sport filled with lessons and growth.  Discipline. Dedication.  Teamwork. Leadership. How to keep a boat on top of the lake instead of at the bottom.  Just when I started thinking that I was done with learning lessons from this team, a few smacked me in the face in one week – the first is below, the rest are to come later.

First – Trust. 

Photo by: Natalie Wilkinson

Rowers can’t see where they’re going.  When the row, they look to what they have already passed and have their backs facing the path ahead.  This is where I come in.  The coxswain steers the boat, both physically and mentally.  Not only is my job to tug on a little string that turns the rudder and manipulate rowers’ pressure to turn the boat, but also to encourage, motivate, and critique the rowers in my boat.  While rowers can only see the back their teammates head, coxswains see everything, forcing the rowers to trust this dead weight in the boat that keeps yelling at them. 

This past week, there was one day where our boat was scheduled to practice and the rain would not relent.  Rain makes rowing uncomfortable but not dangerous.  Other things that make rowing uncomfortable: oars, blisters, oddly shaped seats, long workout pieces, a poor set – basically everything about rowing is uncomfortable.  Throughout the day I received texts from each of my rowers asking if practice was cancelled, telling me that they thought practice was cancelled, and voicing their concerns as if I had no clue that they wouldn’t enjoy rowing in the rain.

I found myself immediately frustrated that the boat found it necessary to question the decision not to cancel practice.  After responding to each of their weather concerns, I kept getting more questions about if it would be light enough outside at the end of the day.  My roommate, a cox for one of the girls’ boats, told me that afternoon that none of her rowers ever questioned her this frequently.  My frustration grew as I wondered why my teammates couldn’t place their trust in me for this one practice.  It was disheartening that they had no confidence in my decision-making skills.  It was disheartening until I thought further.

It is in our nature to question things.  We hardly place our complete and unwavering faith and trust in anyone.  If it was frustrating to me,  a person completely capable of mistakes, that four rowers wouldn’t trust me, then how frustrating must it be when all of humanity questions our infallible creator and reserve our trust for other occasions. 

I have plans for my life.  I wrote out my schedule for next semester.  I know when I need to study for the rest of my tests this semester.  I have a pretty solid idea of what I want to do when I graduate.  And it baffles me to realize that all of these things that I have planned mean nothing until I trust God with the plans he has.  I used to make fun of my friends that based all of their decisions on “their calling” or answered that they were still “waiting for the Lord to reveal His plan” but I’m finding myself understanding them more lately.  I’m not saying that I can’t keep a calendar organized, or have a to-do list, but I have to approach them differently.  Rather than asking him time and time again if I should be changing my major, applying for certain jobs, or moving to a different city – I should be trusting and waiting for that text that cancels practice…or whatever way God communicates whatever plans he has.  Not sitting idly waiting for some giant sign, but confidently acting on decisions founded on trust.

And we, as leaders, have plans.  Without planning meetings, event calendars, and general organization – ministry would be chaos.  We don’t quit putting forth any effort or care and simply call it trust, but we build our plans on a foundation of trust and faith.

More to come later on rowing and how it's super spiritual and all that junk.