I had at least seven hours of glorious sleep and as we were starting slightly later than usual didn't have to get up til 7.45. From the moment I got out of bed I was focused and resolved that today I was going to get things right.
A very useful session in the tank (a kind of indoor boat surrounded by a pool of murky, dirty water) helped explain to me one of the things that I had not fully grasped: the first part of the stroke is more of a squeeze, followed by acceleration in the second part. It was also made clear that if I could keep my blade in the water longer then this would help the boat stay balanced.
Before the outing the BBC people wanted to mike me up, so they could hear what I am saying in the boat. They have done this a couple of times before and I have found it distracting as I feel bound to give a commentary and the wires get in the way and it generally stops me focusing. I told the sound guy that I didn't want to be miked up today; this was too important an outing for me and I needed nothing to divert my attention from the job in hand. I added that I wouldn't be saying anything anyway. The sound man tried to persuade me, but I told him that I was not willing to be miked up. He seemed a bit grumpy about this. He then came up to me and asked if I would be wearing a hat as he could put a mike in that. I told him that I wasn't going to wear a mike. I don't think I was being unreasonable or arsey about this; everyone in our crew has bent over backwards to accommodate the filming process and we have done much more for the BBC than we were contractually obliged to do. But ths grumpy sound man was angered by my stand. "We're trying to make a TV show here," he protested. He had got this wrong. He was trying to make a TV show. I was trying to learn to row. His TV show was about people learning to row, so you might argue that if his prescence starts to interfere with the learning process then it is him who is in the wrong. He looked at me with a sneer and sarcastically commented, "Do you think you're some kind of athelete now?" He was lucky I didn't push him into the tank that he was rather temptingly standing directly in front of. Instead I told him not to be sarcastic to me. The fact is that I know I'm not any kind of athelete and that's why I need to concentrate so hard on the job in hand. The incident made me rather cross and I was feeling slightly shaken, but nothing was going to stop me focusing on the job in hand. I felt I had let everyone down yesterday and I wanted to get this right for them. Strange things were happening to my psyche. It's like I've fallen in love with eight people and will do anything for them and I'm not even doing it because I want to have sex with them - well maybe Anna Botting, but none of the others. Definitely not Toby Young. And anyone who says that I want to be a good rower, solely to impress Toby Young so that he will go to bed with me is lying. Nor do I want to bathe him like he is my baby.
I guess that everyone was going through something similar, because when we got on to the water we were rowing better than we ever had before. Our socks were turd free and we were heading away from Leicester. The others cheered and whooped with excitement, but I was still too determined to be good and didn't want to drop my concentration. But it felt good. Really good. Like all the pain and effort of the week had been worthwhile.
Today we were going to do another practise race, but this time against a crew of eighteen year old girls. And it is a testament to my commitment to rowing that at no point (until later) did I think, "Nice, a load of 18 year old girls in lycra. I better look at them with a sort of leering and unpleasant face." Maybe I should have. It might have put them off.
Toby shouted at us, "Yesterday we were beaten by some teenage boys, we don't want to get beaten by a load of girls!" This got him some tuts and groans from people in both boats. He had possibly forgotten that there were a load of girls in the boat with him. But once again his heart was in the right place and you have to remember that he grew up in the kingdom of the dwarves where they have a very different idea of politeness and ethics. He has done well to assimilate himself this much into human society.
The first race was going to be around a minute and a half and really just a practice for setting off, which is difficult and strenuous. We were given a slight start, which might have given us some idea that this bunch of girls were probably going to be pretty good.
We set off at a pace and things were going brilliantly. It was exhilarating and exciting and I could feel that my strokes were helping to power the boat. Then I was momentarily distracted by something and the boat seemed to hit a bump and suddenly my blade had come out of its rigger. I had somehow neglected to ensure that the gate was securely screwed up and my oar was now dragging along the side of the boat, getting in Toby's way. He had coincidentally just fallen off his seat, so after an amazing start we were in quite some disarray.
I didn't know what to do in this situation, as no-one had talked to us about it, but I realised at the very least I had to get the blade out of Toby's way. I think Anna behind me might have suggested just letting go of it and then sitting back (actually forward to keep out of her way)to enjoy the ride. But I wondered if I'd be able to get the blade back into its rigger and then maybe carry on rowing. It was quite an effort just to pull the oar level and even without my mighty power the boat was still whizzing along. As I tried to reach over and lift up the gate it crossed my mind that there might be a danger of me losing a finger if things went wrong.
It was hard enough just getting the blade back into the gate - the boat was bouncing and I was being jostled around - so I considered it very unlikely that I'd be able to do the screw back up and for a few seconds just rested by blade on the water in the hope that this would help with balance. But as I had to hold the screw down to keep the oar in its place I thought I might as well have a go at doing it up. On the eighth or ninth attempt I managed it and screwed it up as tight as I could in the circumstances and I was back in the race.
I was so determined to make up for my mistake that I rowed hard and long without even thinking about what I was doing. All my frustration went into the strokes and it felt like we were going faster than ever. Obviously we lost the race, but there were so many positive things that came out of this brief jaunt that it didn't really matter.
The next race was slightly longer and this time all screws were as tight as could be and we rowed even better. Again we got a little bit of a start and we managed to hold the girls off until right at the very end, when Jonathan steered us a little bit too close and our blades clashed with theirs and they were more experienced about getting out of this and managed to overtake us just as the race came to an end.
But it didn't matter that we'd lost (and despite Toby's attempt to psyche them out, this crew is one of the best for their age in the country) because we had finally become a team ourselves and had improved beyond all measure since Monday morning.
The atmosphere couldn't have been any different that yesterday's, although I felt tears welling up in my eyes again, but this time out of pride rather than frustration. I think we were all much better, but I think I knew that it was my own personal improvement that had really made the difference (just as Martin had said on Wednesday).
Anna congratulated me. I said, "That is my apology for yesterday." My apology was accepted.
As we held the boat up by the boathouse Martin smiled at me from the shore and said, "You're my hero today, Richard." Having experienced his displeasure yesterday, to receive his encouragement today was fantastic. "You're my hero too, Martin," I replied. And he is. He is an amazing and inspirational man. We all just want to please him and repay him for all the effort he has put in on our behalf. I am glad he took this so seriously, because if we'd all just thought of it as a joke it would have been embarrassing and offensive to all the proper rowers who have given up their time for us.
The afternoon passed happily. We were made to do some pretty tricky things (a 17 km row and practising starting from a stake boat, for example), but we kept up the concentration and commitment. Wheelie had had to go off somewhere, so we had a temporary replacement proper rower called Dan. He couldn't believe how proficient we were and said we were the best novice crew that he'd ever rowed with. I don't know how many novice crews he has rowed with, but it was a great feeling to have genuinely impressed him.
For the first time I actually genuinely thought we had a chance of beating Cambridge. They'd been down on the river today too (having been on a lake for the rest of the week and thus never having experienced the choppy conditions of the tideway) and one of the fellas who had seen both crews rowing said that we looked better on the water and possibly more importantly were taking it more seriously. I think the team spirit that has gone into overdrive over the last day or so might be the deciding factor that helps us through. Win or lose, come to think of it.
It was weird going home at the end of all this. It's been one of the most intense weeks of my life and I have surprised myself with my mental and physical reserves. There's a big part of me that wants the race to be the last time I ever row (so that I can have the incentive that the last couple of hundred strokes will be my last ever, so I'd better make them good ones), but I am beginning to wonder if I will give it up entirely.
I wish the race was sooner than Wednesday. I can hardly bear the suspense.
