I wasn't planning on getting on the rowing machine today. But, after basketball practice, I felt like I still had some cardio energy to use up so, I went to the gym thinking I was going to handcycle as my legs are shot from all the physical therapy this morning. Yet I saw the rowing machine first, and couldn't stop the pull within one minute I was back in position. I wouldn't classify my relationship with the rowing machine as a love-hate one, just somewhat complicated. I think my relationship with rowing in Israel and the old memories it brings up is one I have yet to fully process. But, I felt the urge to row instead of using a handcycle. I decided to sit and try and go with the flow of my body.
The numbers flash on the screen with my first pull, but for the first time, they dont start millions of calculations in my brain. Numbers mean a lot in rowing, especially competitively. They are one of the main measuring tools used to check how you are raising your skill and power, as the race is who can race the fastest to the finish line. The type of number differs between stroke rate, Five-hundred-meter average, power levels, and more but, it's all numbers on a screen. Numbers used to mean everything to me. I would constantly compare my times with others. In the early days, it was against another teammate whom I was competing for a spot on the international team. During that time, it was also with the numbers on the scale, but that's for another post. Then in Florida, regardless of how much my coaches tried to help me make it just about my personal growth, I could rattle off last year's world championship times, and the standing world records for my divisions at any moment's notice. Towards the end of my stay in Florida, Coach Katie's words about rowing for myself, making personal goals and achieving them, while enjoying the process started to permeate my brain. But, they stayed in my Florida rowing box and never made it to the Israel rowing box in my mind.
Today, the numbers still sat on the screen in front of my face. But, for once, if not the first time since Florida, they were that just numbers on the screen. I didn't try to speed up to get back to a pace I did when training four years ago, and didn't get upset when the numbers went up and down. The numbers were there, yet I listened to my body and enjoyed every pull and alternating types of pulls and just giving myself space to enjoy the rowing movement. Not letting myself fall into the need to hit a certain distance, or taking dreams so far in one practice, like trying to row a 5k and in my mind going all the way to international competitions. It was so different as many a time I've tried to come back to row on the machine that I miss so much. I miss rowing a lot, the power, and the release of the monotonous movement, the water, the breathing technique it requires me to use. Rowing takes me to a different place in my head. When I've tried to come back in the past, I would go to the box in my mind of competition with my old self, and where I used to be when I rowed all the time, this time I was able to stay in the moment and just row.
The first time I rowed it was on a rowing machine, my mom and I came to meet the rowing coach, he pulled the rowing machine out and set it up so I could see the water. He showed me how the rowing motion, and then I was just supposed to try it for a few minutes. Two minutes in and I'm hooked and say I don't ever want to get off. Twenty-five minutes later, and the coach is like you should probably stop, you will be sore tomorrow even if it doesn't hurt now. There is something about the monotonous movement that calms me, my deep inner self. Maybe it's like swinging on a swing, the back and forth is so balancing outside and inside. Many moments and interactions happened after that moment, both good, bad, and ugly. But, the rowing machine and I always had this first version of inner calm, that I found when rowing before politics, nasty comments, and after internalizing it all, had poisoned rowing in Israel for me.
Five years later, and maybe I'm healing. Because when I get on the machine and row, it's not about proving to someone that I am better than someone else, that my body doesn't contradict my results. It is about me loving the monotony of the row and the body that is giving me internal calm. And with that, loving my body enough to listen to it. Even though I wanted to keep rowing till tomorrow, I listened to my body when it's tired, honoring it, and loving it. Throughout the row and all the passing time, I have removed many of the old hurtful voices that used to show up in my head, when I would try to come back and row.
This moment tonight is a lightening moment. One that I feel like I'm finally taking some trash out of my brain. Especially since my next thought wasn't, I need to compete in 5k indoor races around the world. Rather it was just this rowing movement feels amazing, feels like a mental home, so I'm going to do it healthily for me and no one else. Row,release,breathe,repeat.
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