Georgia is a nice state. It is certainly warmer than our
lovely State College, Pennsylvania. But best of all, the southern hospitality
is more than enough to make you feel like you’re home with your own mother
doting on you.
Combine those features with a vast, beautiful lake that was
utilized for the 1996 Summer Olympics and you have all of the reasons why Penn
State Crew chose Lake Lanier in Gainesville, Georgia for spring training. We
departed last Friday and after 14 hours (about 12 for driving and another 2 for
stops/eating) we arrived at the lake. We jumped immediately off the bus and
into our spandex for the first practice—no time was wasted.
We trained long and hard, but despite the three practice a
day schedule, I was happy. Water underneath my oar, oar in my hand and my butt
in that seat along that slide, I remembered why I was still apart of the team.
There’s a genuine rush I get rowing in a boat. It’s inexplicable and it means
so much to me.
So I was eager. While I complained in the moment that the
plan for the third (and sometimes fourth) practice was addressed, I loved every
second of my time on the water. Break began rough, but over the course of the
week I worked harder than I have ever worked in my life. The goal of the week:
make the lineup of the better boat. You see, the novice women will be racing
two boats this semester. One boat will seat eight girls and for all intents and
purposes, we’ll call this the “A” boat because it will be the better athletes.
The other boat will seat four girls, which we will call the “B” boat of girls
who are not as adequate in the sport at this point.
As the underdog, getting into the “A” boat was a bigger
challenge for me than for some of the other girls. But I did it. I remember the
very second our coach said, “Alright, I think we have our lineup.” I was seated
in the eight. I couldn’t stop smiling and my coach said to the entire team,
“Damnit, Ash. By the skin of your teeth, you did it. You did it. You’ve made me
proud, underdog.”
I had a million thoughts at that moment: I need to call my
mom, I need to tell my dad, I can’t believe I did it, I’m in this boat, we’re
going to win medals, I can show my medal to anyone who laughed or doubted me.
And in the back of my mind, I thought: I’m going to need some Advil for my
arm—it still hurts.
I ignored the pain in my lower right forearm and took Advil
for the next few practices, since we didn’t have much time left in the week.
Everything worked out fine. Spring break came to a close, we packed our bags
and were back in State College on Sunday morning. But when I woke up later that
morning, my arm was heavy. I couldn’t pick things up without serious pain. It
looked pretty swollen. As all of these symptoms continued, I got past the
thought that I could just be making this up in my head—I knew something was
obviously wrong.
After having my arm checked yesterday, I was told that I was
not allowed to experience that inexplicable feeling of pride, athleticism,
appreciation for my sport, and love for my team for at least the next six
weeks. My season is gone, before it could really even start.
I worked my right forearm too hard, which created tearing in
the tendon. Treatment administered: a lot of Advil, a beautiful black arm brace,
and physical therapy for the next two months. Absolutely no rowing. When I heard
those words, I started crying on the spot and didn’t stop for the rest of the
day. I had worked so hard for so long. I made the “A” boat; I did it. And now I
had someone telling me I could not follow through.
I am still getting over the initial shock of my season
ending prematurely. But as I informed my teammates of my injury, I also told
them that I would still attend every practice, every race, and every other
event to support them all. I’m not missing a thing.
Will it be hard when I’m watching my boat race (and
hopefully win a medal or two)? Of course. But this experience had made me
realize that I am not just an athlete, I am a teammate. And so I got up for
practice this morning to meet at the normal 6:15 time. I did cardio while they
worked on the ergs. I will get up tomorrow to meet them at 4:45 a.m., too. And I
will be present each day thereafter to do all I can to make sure that they do
the best they can as rowers. I may not be in the boat, physically speaking, but
I will be there in spirit…and to greet them when they get off the water.
I'm sorry about your arm but your outlook on the situation is brilliant. Your ability to positively spin this negative situation is something to admire!
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