VERDIGRIS
  • Blog Intro
  • Day by Day Blog
  • Website
  • Contact Jen
  • Sign up!
  • Blog Intro
  • Day by Day Blog
  • Website
  • Contact Jen
  • Sign up!

The sculler.

2/26/2012

7 Comments

 
Picture
I missed out on being a team player. I sculled my single rowing shell from childhood to adulthood. I started to row when I was young, the same age my kids are now. By the time I was in 8th grade, 5 am was my regular wake-up time as my older brothers and I would head down to the boathouse. While the sport has a solitary side, we found companionship at the rowing club.  We trained in a fiercely competitive environment where Olympians were bred early on. We stuck together to endure the difficult training sessions. I was one of the first women to be part of this club. I never had women around making it difficult to truly gauge my performance against other women.  My high pony-tail would be in stark contrast with the muscled men that lined their shells up next to me on the starting line. I would do my best to technically out row the stronger men. The men dictated the character of the place. With that, came grunge. There were no shiny exercise apparatus like we see in today’s gyms. Wooden planks acted as bench rows, scrap wood boxes were used for plyometrics and the place was cold and dank. It was here that I would learn to cuss despite my mother’s objections. I have spent most of my adult life, trying to reverse some of the less than lady-like habits learned from the rowing world. While my parents would have rather me stuck to tennis, I had different ambitions.  I wanted more than anything to make the Olympic team. We would head out to the cove and discover our limits as we would race head to head on the 2000 meter course. Sometimes it could be a very lonely experience to quietly execute 12,000 meter workouts of technique work. Each workout had some purpose in getting us one step closer to becoming an elite athlete. The days were always marked by the weather conditions. During the warm months, you would row as the sun glistened; oars making swirling patterns on the water as you cut through it. During the winter you would often feel the crunch of ice as you skimmed through it, breaking a path through its thin veil.  Dry skin would prevail during these months, causing cracks and bleeds on my knuckles as the left hand crossed over the right.  It was during the cold months that you would find your inner fortitude.  It was in the old boathouse that I would grow up so differently than my kids are doing today.  The challenges this sport brought were so much harder than anything school could throw at me. In some ways, I wish this upon my kids because my life's most teachable moments came from the heart of this challenging sport. I have few photos of the place I spent most of my young life. But the memories in my head sustain its every detail. Pictured is one of my best days as a rower winning the Canadian National Championship.  To get to this day, I would endure a million catches and finishes trying to find balance, speed and endurance.  I would row until a career ending injury changed everything. Interestingly enough, I was hit with an oar from a boat coming in the opposite direction. My back would never be the same as my broken boat began to sink.  Another boat came to fish my mangled shell out of the water and it would be here that I would meet my husband. In life, when one door closes, another opens. As my back floundered, he would help heal my broken spirit and together we built a new dream for the future. 


Picture
7 Comments
Michael
2/26/2012 10:52:19 am

I always knew you were really Canadian, eh

Reply
Jen Schulten
2/26/2012 07:32:14 pm

New Yorker, Canadian, didn't matter when you were on the starting line.

Reply
Jen Huddleston
2/26/2012 10:16:18 pm

Wow, Jen! I knew you had been a rower, but I didn't know how much of one you were! The way you go all-out for everything now, from designing your kids' bedrooms in the most brilliant way, to your obvious passion and skill for photography, reflects the solid character you built during adolescence. And what a great (though tragic!) story about meeting Chris!

Reply
Melissa Albin
2/26/2012 11:17:58 pm

What a remarkable story Jen! You are truly amazing.

Reply
Mary Ellen
2/27/2012 12:51:05 am

Love this story....and great photos, too.

Reply
pat scales link
2/27/2012 09:09:42 am

Ah, I remember it well. Maybe the rowing ended, but certainly not your lust for life.

Reply
Liz McCoy
3/6/2012 02:12:16 am

Wow! What a story! Bet your kids love to hear this one!!

Reply



Leave a Reply.

    Archives

    April 2020
    January 2019
    July 2018
    June 2015
    January 2015
    December 2014
    October 2014
    July 2014
    June 2014
    May 2014
    April 2014
    March 2014
    February 2014
    January 2014
    December 2013
    November 2013
    October 2013
    September 2013
    August 2013
    July 2013
    June 2013
    May 2013
    April 2013
    March 2013
    February 2013
    January 2013
    December 2012
    November 2012
    October 2012
    September 2012
    August 2012
    July 2012
    June 2012
    May 2012
    April 2012
    March 2012
    February 2012
    January 2012
    December 2011
    November 2011
    October 2011
    September 2011
    August 2011
    July 2011
    June 2011
    May 2011
    April 2011
    March 2011
    February 2011

    RSS Feed