Rower's Revenge

Though it has taken me until this year to define myself as an athlete, the truth is that I already had over eight years of racing experience under my belt as a coxswain. 


The coxswain, for those of you unfamiliar with the sport of rowing, is the person who sits in the stern of the boat, screaming and steering. He or she is the on-board coach during a rowing team's practices and races. Though I was initially recruited for the position because I was, as my mother likes to remind me, "small and loud," I soon learned that it also required a delicate balance between proving to my teammates that I was worthy of their respect and forcing them to push themselves when it mattered. Even the best coxswains, who get to know what motivates each individual rower, have upset this balance at one time or another, and I'm sure every rower out there can vividly remember a dozen instances where they would have gladly murdered the tiny person dragging behind them, barking orders. [If we're Facebook friends, you can check out the video above, where at about 0:50, I am doing just that.]

One of the most beloved rowing traditions is that a winning team gets to throw their coxswain into the (often ice-cold) water. Even when a team is victorious, there's still a little spite left over for the coxswain.

Keep in mind, this is Maine. In April.

My teams, both in high school and college, taught me what it meant to race. I saw the commitment it took to achieve the results they wanted. I knew what it meant to empty the tanks and leave it all on the river. I felt the hair stand up on the back of my neck when the racing was so tight that the leader changed with every stroke through the water. I watched them go back into the gym after a blowing defeat with a new kind of determination set in their faces. After all these years of bracing against the foot plates, pressing in vain on an imaginary gas pedal, I finally have the opportunity to run my own race. We'll see which one is worse for my knees.

The thing that strikes me most about the difference between a rowing race and a road race, however, is how easy it is to feel alone when I am running. In the boat, each person has to work as part of a unit, and there is a single race plan that everyone carries out together. Out on the pavement, I find traces of the coxswain in me, who tells me to find a rhythm, hold my head up, and breathe, but there's no captain to shout encouragement from the middle of the boat, no audible growl ripping through throats as everyone commits to making the same move, no satisfaction to come from the sounds of eight oars moving in perfect unison. It turns out, when I'm my own coxswain, it's tougher to be a hard ass.

It was this realization that led me to think of my latest fundraising opportunity. I call it Rower's Revenge.

In exchange for a donation to my marathon, I will be allowing my former rowers to get back at me for the miscalculated finishes (YES, we all remember that time at Bowdoin), the incessant reminders to move your hands up and get your catches in, or the cruelly timed voice in your ear that "you can do better" during an erg test.

For a $35 donation, you may design a cross-training or core workout (up to 75 minutes), or speed workout (up to 6 miles) that I will complete during my 5-month training period. I have only been through one Deck of Cards in my life, but I have a feeling that's about to change.

For a $75 donation, you may design a workout based on the parameters above, and I will travel up to 200 miles so that you can cox me through it.

This opportunity is not just open to my former rowers, however; other rowers, coaches, and sadistic friends are also welcome to participate.

Make your donation at http://www.crowdrise.com/TeamBottomLine/fundraiser/michelleeaston, and I will be in touch via e-mail to get the details of your workout and, if necessary, coordinate a mutually agreed-upon date that fits into my training and travel schedules.

Let's get to it! I have 26.2 miles to crush and $7,500 to raise.