The 500

Water slaps against the side of the boat. I hold myself in the brace position, ready for the start. Leaning forward, my legs are pushed firmly against the floor and gunwale; my back rotated, and arms long and straight. The blade of my paddle, is deep beneath the surface of the lake and my fingers are curled around its handle; fingertips tickling the icy water.

I suck in a deep breath, filling my lungs. All I can hear is my heart thumping as I wait for the starting gun. Beside me, my bench buddy whispers, “We got this.”

I nod and close my eyes and focus.

I hear the starter, “Are you ready?”

I add extra tension to my muscles, arms ready to pull the blade.

“Attention.”

Here it comes, I think to myself.

It is a second’s hesitation; a suspended moment of anticipation until the gun blares and we are off, spurred into action.

I slip into the start routine we have practised for months and months. Ten long, deep strokes to lift the boat out of the water. Mentally, I check them off.

Then the transition comes, twenty short, fast strokes to build the speed. We are in sync; this dragonboat crew, and rapidly find ourselves moving into second position.

Eyes down, I remind myself, head in the boat. This is how the best laid plans unravel in a race. And so, I try to keep my focus on the lead stroke, front left, and push down harder on the blade, each hit bringing us closer to home.

We are in the mid-phase of the race now and need to maintain a solid yet punchy pace. 500m racing is neither in the realm of sprint, like a 200m, nor endurance, like the 2km. It is cast painfully, in between the two.

The 350m mark is the toughest point. The burn of fatigue fires like a beacon in every muscle, and lungs burst; unable to keep up with the required intake of oxygen to push through.

Yet, somehow they do.

With 80m to go, I am yearning for it to be over but I know this is when I need to dig the deepest; find some dazzling courage and empty the tank.

This is the moment. The sweep calls, “Go now!”

And we do; we have to because none of us wants that bittersweet, second place. Only gold will do.

We must have caught the other team in a slumber, comfortable in their lead, because suddenly we surge and are upon them.

Sweep oar with sweep oar.

Tail with tail.

Engine room with engine room.

Bow with bow.

Each stroke bobs the lead back and forth, all the way to the finish.

Our dragon head nudges the line first, by 0.09 of a second.

We don’t stop until we hear the call, “Easy.“

Gasping and broken, yet laughing and ecstatic, we pat each other on the back, knowing the bling will be worth it.

And then we get ready to do it all again…

By Sarah ©2023

The Sunday Whirl: Wordle 633

Empty Vessels

Linda’s prompt for this week’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “the last thing you emptied.”

My first thought on this is, “Of course,” as I look down at myself, drenched and bedraggled from freshly bailing out (emptying) our dragon boat.

I was looking forward to our training this morning. The morning sessions are always the best. The water is flat, almost glass-like. There’s not a whisper of wind and the mood is hopeful; a new day just breaking and full of promise.

‘Though as I drive down the parkway towards the lake, my eyes spot something else in the process of breaking. A storm. Or at least some very dark and ominous-looking clouds shrouding the nearby Brindabella Ranges.

Hmm, I think to myself. Should be ok? Coach will be all over the weather forecast. Surely?

On the shore, we load the boat and ourselves, ‘eager’ to do some drogue work (*insert sarcasm here – a drogue is an anchor that creates more drag/resistance on the boat). We warm up, getting a couple of kilometres under our belt.

We take a break and look for the hills. But they are no longer there. Mist and the telltale sign of rain has blanketed them.

Then we feel it. The wind starts to kick and the rumble of thunder shakes our paddles resting on the surface of the water.

“It should be fine,” coach reassures us. “I checked the radar. There’s nothing in it.”

We continue.

I feel the first few drops of rain on my forearm. It’s light and not a problem.

But within minutes, the heavens have opened up and we are saturated.

Visibility is horrible and the rain is coming in sideways and stinging our faces. The water splashes over us as we go through the motions of each stroke.

We continue.

The pyramid drill we are completing becomes more problematic with the waves being whipped up by the wind. Some of these are now breaking over the side of the boat. We hear another grumble from above.

“It’s fine,” coach reassures us. “Just let me know if you see any lightning.”

“Yes, but we’re the ones holding the carbon paddles,” my bench buddy quips.

We continue.

Heads down and in self preservation mode, we paddle hard. Eventually though, we start to notice the water pooling around our ankles.

Then it is up to our calves.

“Um, coach?” my bench buddy says, sounding mildly alarmed now.

“It’s fine. Just dig deeper to lift this lady,” coach instructs, grasping the back of her chair up front, as she is nearly knocked from her perch by a rogue wave.

We continue.

But it is hopeless. We can all see that “lifting this lady” is an impossible task in these conditions. Collectively our eyes look wistfully to the shore. And calculating…that we might be just that little bit too far out, and are at risk of inundation.

Finally, we hear coach’s golden words to our sweep. “Ok Splash, I think I’ll call it. Turn us around and take us in.”

We abort.

Enthusiastically we push through the wind, rain, waves and gloom. The shoreline sands like a beacon beckoning us to safety.

No one speaks, but the unsaid words are about the water that has now crept up to our knees. A few stop paddling and grab the bailers to heave ho with ferocity.

We make it.

As we empty ourselves from the vessel, we see how low she is sitting in the water. It was a close call.

However, she was not done yet.

In our haste to get back on land, we had neglected to tie off the boat. A lone cry alerted us as a crew that our lady was heading back out for a solo voyage!

Adrift, the dragon boat had been gripped by the current and was indeed floating away.

A handful of us ran and were able to grab her – just!

Waist deep in water, I note that the lake and rain are now indistinguishable from each other.

Another close call.

We bail and bail until our lady is empty. Quickly and efficiently we ensconce the boat back to its berth on land.

…And then we start on ourselves.

As always, here’s a terrible joke to end with… (sorry, it’s a doozy!)

Q. Where is the safest place on a sinking ship?
A. The galley! Because "everything but the kitchen sinks."

Author’s Note: While we didn’t sink this time, we certainly did last year. Here is a little video I put together afterwards, to “capture” the experience… 🙊😂

As One

this is a journey
we make individually

yet put together
we form a complex machine

lessons in
discipline
teamwork
humility

an enterprise
worth undertaking

not for glory
but to be the best
we can be
when laid bare
against ourselves

one encourages the other

as the finish line approaches
we know with certainty
we have done all we can

and done it as one

so this has to be enough
…until next time

By Sarah ©2023

Tapering Off

Linda’s prompt for this week’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “tape.“

My first thought on this is, “How apt,” as I look down at my taped fingers and hand, right in front of me.

Getting older is not much fun. Things start to wear out and literally, these days, I am sometimes taping myself together to get through the activities I love to do.

Take today for example – ACT Dragon Boat Championships, Day 1. Now, I’ll be the first to admit that the dragon boat stroke is quite possibly, the least efficient method of paddling a boat. It is not only hard on the body but hard on the mind, especially as I am carrying a few ‘niggles.’ It really is mind over matter!

Some of these niggles are old, some are new, and some require me to strap or tape various joints and limbs…just to make it to the start line.

Of course, I exaggerate. But 2km racing in particular, can be wearing!

As I looked around the crew at the start of today, I noted that I am not alone (our racing category “Senior A” means over 40, so I suppose, this may have something to do with it).

When my eyes did a quick inventory, I saw that we were afloat with an array of colourful tape, straps and compression bandages holding us together.

But hey! We still came first, so at least that’s something. Right?!

Senior A Womens 10s, 2km race win

Yet unfortunately, this phenomenon is not just limited to dragon boating.

When I play djembe I also have injuries that I need to nurse and look after. For example, did you know that wearing a harness and an 8kg drum can hurt your knees? And your neck? And that I have to tape my fingers to stop them from bruising? I have even once split the skin on my palms from hours of prolonged playing!

And then there’s the gym with boxing and aerobics. Taped ankle, taped hands… you get the idea!

In fact, I think the only thing I haven’t needed tape for is my mouth!

But then again…maybe? I do…

🙊😆

As always, here’s a terrible joke to end with…

Q. Why is tape so antisocial?
A. Because it sticks to itself.

p.s. In case you’re wondering, that’s me in the second seat (^video above). And while this taped up thing is a total bummer, there are still many “silver linings” that come from persisting in being active… here’s but one:

Let’s Go

The temptation is always,
to stay in bed where it is warm.

Yet there is an urge, a beckoning;
from deep within the water.

‘Though darkness tries its best to dissuade,
this spirit cannot be conquered.

By Sarah ©2023

Written for Ronovan Writes, “Sijo Wednesday Poetry” with the challenge theme of “temptation.”

One Won

Commanding
and direct.
Keeping us
all in check.
We know the
job to do.
We move as one,
this crew.
Successful
in our quest.
These jejune words
work best.
Easy.

100m Sprint, Invictus Women’s 10

By Sarah ©2023

Wordless Wednesday

Warrior Women

I gripped my hands tightly around the wooden blade, sucking in deep breaths, to fill my lungs with the oxygen I knew would be required for the battle ahead.

“We’ve trained hard for this! We have this,” I told myself.

Adrenalin began pumping as I waited for the signal. I glanced at the girl next to me who was also breathing heavily. She gave me a quick wink.

Suddenly, I heard the calls we’d been waiting for…

“Down and ready.”
“Are you ready?”
“Attention.”

Paddles sliced the water as the siren blared.

We were warrior women, in our dragonboat.

By Sarah ©2018

Author’s Note: Dedicated to all my friends at Bravehearts On The Murray Dragonboat Club. I was privileged to paddle with this club from 2010 – 2013. More than just warriors on the water, they are a competitive dragon boat club, with a rich history, providing friendship and support for those who have had a cancer diagnosis.

Also, a victory video from when I paddled with the Cowboys in Melbourne (yes, I’m in it)…

Carrot Ranch, May 31: Flash Fiction

May 31, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about warrior women. It can be myth or everyday mothers and wives. Go where the prompt leads.