High School Band Nerd Turned Rower: Is That Even Possible?

They say that making the transition from high school to college is a difficult one. It is a big leap from dependence to almost complete self–sufficiency, in every sense of the word. And this goes without saying that personally, I make everything difficult anyway. So it would be no surprise that I made the move to college especially challenging. But this entire move is actually rooted in my elementary school years.

When I was five years old, my dad signed me up for t-ball. I continued to play through softball for many years. In that time, I also played various other sports, including basketball, figure skating, horseback riding, golf and karate. With the exception of the eight years I played softball, I had fairly short stints in all of the other sports. Softball was my sport, and I liked to experience other athletic fields, simply for the love of being active.

This was a commonplace in my life until high school, when I decided to be very serious about my academic standing. School occupied a great deal of my time and I had recently taken up the clarinet. Naturally then, the other free time I had was devoted to the marching band. As a member of the marching band, I started to develop a particular state of mind: I was NOT athletic; that’s why I’m in the marching band, of course—I don’t do sports. In conjunction with the views of my friends, I quickly shed the idea of excelling at physical activities, despite my entire childhood.

This trend continued for my entire high school experience. But the summer after my senior year, as I prepared to start a life anew, my friend made a joke to me. We were casually kayaking along the Delaware River, when she said, “Wow, Ashley, look at all the work you’re doing! You should play sports in college!” I laughed, because at the time, it really was a typical joke. I practically walked the mile in high school. Every year. Those words stuck with me though. What if I tried joining a team? It had been a private thought I had all throughout high school anyway; I always missed being active. So I took her suggestion one step further and researched the club sports at Penn State. I looked through them again and again, but always came back to the same sport: crew.

This sounds ridiculous. My family laughed when I told them my ambitions. It should be known that they have and will always support me in whatever I decide to do, but it was just THAT out of character for me. And their initial reaction set me in my ways: I was going to accomplish this. I would be a member of the crew team. And I would be good.

Then I got to practice and had to overcome yet another set of doubts. The coaches and the other girls did not think I could do it. There are no official tryouts for crew, it is a “cut yourself” kind of sport. In essence, if you keep showing up, after two weeks, you’re on the team. So when I had the gaul to keep coming back for more, everyone was absolutely shocked. I kind of was too, but I just told myself that there was no quitting. Before I knew it, the two-week “trial” period was up and I was still attending practice. I was an official member of the crew team.

I am happy that I got through my first semester on the team, but all I did was get through. I was average. Every score, time, test, I came up almost exactly in the middle. That's all well and good, but I want more. I want to be in the best boat and I want that for the upcoming spring season. This is my first real in-season time on the team. I want to be the best high school band nerd, who through pure self-motivation, turned rower that this crew team has ever seen.

Before Winter Break, my coach pointed out to me that I am always pushing myself. It was never intentional on my part though. I just worked until I hit my outermost boundaries. Considering how that was a fairly limited experience for me prior to this year, I can see how to the outsider it looks like I am working myself. Unfortunately, that is just fallacy; I have always known that, and I have always ignored that. But I am done ignoring that. Yesterday I pushed myself so hard at practice that I got sick. I found my boundary, stayed there, and then pushed past it. And it felt great. So I broke through one boundary. I made serious progress in my training. But how many times can I break through and progress like that? I plan to find out this semester. I want a seat in that top boat. I can already feel the rhythm the other girls’ ores. I want to be there, in time with them on the water.