Monday night, November 9, 2009
Night had rolled in quickly and we rallied around the dock gate at Johnny’s Restaurant eager to get out on the water. A quick count of heads indicated that we had enough paddlers for a full boat. Shannon silently bailed the boat farthest out as the rest of us chatted and talked about the weekend paddles. By the time I finished my yapping she was finished. I felt like I hadn’t helped my teammate but I was determined to make it up to her with some competitive paddling. The night was calm. The water was glassy and the crazy skies had stilled. It was warmer than the night before. Certainly warmer than Saturday. A few of us ached from Saturday’s drill but we were here. Attentive. Scott, our teammate and new coach, presented us with the stroke-and-return drill that Dorothy had shared with him: On the return, twist the T-handle outward like you’re looking down a gun barrel. Simple. It was an effective example. We all seemed to understand. It was dark as we left our mooring and paddled out. Karen had returned for tonight’s practice and steered us out into the still waterway. We paddled in-time. Scott kept count and stealthily paddled us through a few hundred meter runs. It was a great workout. Most of the time I seemed to be following well. The rest of the time I flubbed my transistions and failed to reach…it…out. I ust improve. The 30/30s were spot-on and our voices echoed through the marina as we counted. We were a team. We are a competitive bunch.
Before I knew it we were headed back to the dock. Our strong, tough practice was coming to an end. But not before Scott ordered a quick run around the base of the old bridge. I paddled hard and stole a glance upward to see what was happening in the dimly lit and musty bridgetender’s shack The lights were on. We thought that it was abandoned. Then I heard the spirited sounds of the crew singing “Row, row, row your boat.” After which came, “Puff, the Magic Dragon.”
It was a definitely fun and aerobic night.