Towing the Line

There is something quite unique about the atmosphere of a start line. All the months of training, suffering, hard work and sacrifice condense into a single knot in the pit of your stomach.

It can affect people in different ways. Some aren’t affected by it in any way. They’ve trained heard and are there to do a job. But for others, it will slide them into the pit of despair that is pre-race nerves, a place I have often frequented.  I used to get horrifically nervous at races. If fact, I’d go so far as to say often if someone had said I didn’t have to race I’d have been relieved. Sounds silly thinking about it now, but I much MUCH prefer the rigours and routine of hard training than it’s eventually purpose, race day.

It must be said that at this point the two sports of rowing and running can be poles apart. The raw feeling of a start line at a sprint regatta is horrible, truly horrible. Waiting for the umpire to say “Attention…”  (I bet every rower who read that felt that feeling right there). Your sole purpose in life for the next couple of minutes is to crush the opposition. All thoughts of “just having a good row” disappear and will only re-appear in the post-race analysis. Mindful Animalism is probably the best way to describe it. The fact that one must usually win a number of races on the same day, only adds to the tension. The stakes are raised every time. A couple of rounds of wins and a final still amounts to a loss, acutely so at Novice Level. I truly feel sorry for those crews who enter the massive regattas and have 5 or so rounds to a win. Of course, if you know you can crush all in your path then your psyche maybe different. But it’s a feeling that never got any easier. What did get me through was the fact there were usually 3 or 7 other guys sat behind me feeling exactly the same (Peterborough Final anyone?). The quiet contemplation and stillness that makes up a rowing start line often belies a torrent of emotion and thought going on beneath the still faces of the rowers.

Blatent excuse you use this video again – It’s us. Winning. Yay!

The atmosphere at a running start line could not be more different, most of the time. In order to diffuse the nerves of the collected throngs, it is often quite a jovial, almost carnival, atmosphere. People joking about Pies on the Start Line, needing a wee within 300m of the start and listening to the (usually god-awful) tannoy waiting for the countdown to the start. I suppose, once the honk’s been honked, you’re on your own. The result you get out will be down to the effort you’ve put in before race day and no-one can run that race for you.

However, a different sort of madness can affect the feckless runner. All of a sudden, that PB seems an easy target and a couple of minutes are mentally knocked off. The runner darts out of the traps like a man possessed, only to regret it a couple of miles later. Alternatively, that slight niggle in a left knee can mentally turn into a leg about to explode in pain.

It’s a lot harder to keep your cool at times like this. In both if not all sports, it is those who succeed in shutting it all out and concentrating on the task at hand that will reap the spoils of the battle about to commence.

Attention….Go!