Last weekend’s trip to Boston was amazing! The Head of the Charles regatta, which has a 60-year history and many thousands of athletes, is MUCH bigger and more competitive than anywhere else I have rowed. To be honest, I felt kind of apprehensive when my husband organized the trip, but everything went well. People lined the bridges cheering for the athletes, and some of our online friends gave us a cowbell and kazoo decorated with a rowing motif so that we could make some noise too.

Photo of a cowbell and kazoo on a table.

My husband’s single race was on Friday morning, when the middle-aged and older rowers compete. He got into a collision with another boat under a bridge and lost some time because of it, so he didn’t do as well as he would have liked; but I have to give him credit for being brave enough to go out there in a single, which I’ll freely admit I was not.

Although it rained much of the day on Saturday, we went out to cheer for our friends and our coaches anyway. I had to change my shoes after they got wet, but that was okay because my husband ordered some nice waterproof boots for me after we got home.

In our quad race on Sunday, my husband was in bow and steered well through the narrow Boston bridges. It was very exciting to be on the course with big crowds cheering for us! Even though we weren’t anywhere near the frontrunners, it was a lot of fun anyway. My husband is already talking about going back next year to row our double.

I had a lot of indecision this morning about what kind of image to put on my digital art display. When I looked out the window, the sky was mostly cloudy with occasional glimpses of sun. It wasn’t quite cold enough for snow. The winter landscapes I browsed through didn’t work, and I couldn’t find any early spring scenes that looked right either. Ocean views didn’t suit my mood. I was getting frustrated with myself for being so picky.

Looking for scenery that would invite me into a virtual adventure, I finally clicked on a photo showing a mountain path and storm clouds. With spring flowers dotting the slopes, it didn’t match the real-life season, but something about it drew me in anyway.

Stony trail on a mountainside with dark clouds and spring flowers.

(Image credit: Gabe Farnsworth)

“It may be an adventure for some, but it is an ordinary day for others.”

Making her way along the trail with the aid of a walking stick, the archetypal Crone came into view. She wore a dark cloak on this cool spring morning, with a long homespun dress swishing around her ankles, and a headscarf that covered all but a few wisps of her iron-gray hair. I might have taken her for a medieval peasant, but for the elaborately carved runes on her walking stick, which brought to mind tales of the powerful witch Baba Yaga in her enchanted forest.

“People tend to see dithering as a character flaw,” she went on, “and adventuring as a way to gain focus and mental energy. I would put it more in terms of what choices are open to us, though. When our lives are simple, with few decision points, there isn’t much to dither about or to imagine as an adventure within reach. The days all feel much the same.”

Somewhere to my left, a bell tinkled. I turned my head and saw a herd of shaggy goats grazing on the slope. A ragged boy glanced up toward me, without much curiosity, and went back to watching his goats.

“I’m well-heeled today,” the Crone said, lifting a foot to display a sturdy shoe under the hem of her long dress, “and so I’m ready for adventures. Once upon a time, a well-heeled person meant someone who was wealthy. When shoes were made by hand, most folks couldn’t afford to replace them when the heel started wearing down. You can’t get far on an adventure if your shoes are about to fall apart.”

I gave that some thought. “Being indecisive and going on adventures both reflect having some amount of privilege, then.”

“Yes, and there’s no reason to judge yourself harshly for it. If you didn’t own an art display, then you wouldn’t have spent time deliberating over what image to choose, and maybe you’d have gotten some household tasks done instead. But then, you wouldn’t have written about me.”

I’ve had a quiet, cozy Christmas day, and right now I am enjoying a cup of hot tea as night falls over the snowy landscape outside my window. I imagine there will be more adventures in the year to come, but there is no rush. Just being here with my family, in this moment of grace, is enough for now.

Word-art with an eagle that says, "Merry Christmas."

I’m sharing this image because it reminded me of a real encounter with a bald eagle on the river, a few years ago. Right next to my husband’s single scull, an eagle swooped down, talons wide. It was quite a startling sight while rowing! The eagle had spotted a fish, which it grabbed neatly out of the water.

Wishing a very merry Christmas and an adventurous New Year to all!

My daughter, who lives in Cleveland’s snow belt, is currently working in Hawaii as a travel nurse and enjoying the warmth and the beaches. As an unexpected adventure, she also got to see the eruption of Mauna Loa up close, and she sent me some photos on Monday. Here’s one of them:

Photo of erupting Mauna Loa volcano at night.

She is a neonatal intensive care nurse, and a few years ago, she worked at Cleveland Metro. Then she discovered that travel nursing paid more, plus the costs of travel and housing. Adventure and more money, what’s not to like about that? And of course, as more nurses made the same discovery, hospitals lost more staff and relied even more heavily on temps from the travel nurse agencies, digging themselves into a hole that I can’t see them getting out of any time soon.

Somewhat related to the hospitals’ woes, I’ve noticed a few alarmist articles in the news recently about the Federal Reserve’s string of interest rate hikes, aimed at cooling off the economy to get inflation under control. Doomsayers warn of recession and job cuts. I think that’s overblown, and as supply chains improve, I expect the economy will do much better. I don’t foresee many jobs being lost other than in the construction and finance industries, where raising interest rates effectively put a stop to housing speculation.

Now that we live in a world of persistent labor shortages, interest rates don’t have nearly the impact on unemployment that they had a few decades ago, when large numbers of workers in the baby boom cohort struggled to find jobs that could easily be sent overseas. We’re never going to see an economy like that again. Employers are realizing that they need to hold onto talent, as I am sure the Fed’s policymakers are aware. Workers also know that their skills are in more demand than in past years.

Of course, the rate hikes are in part intended to make consumers get uneasy and spend more cautiously. Monetary policy has as much to do with mind games as with economic facts. But overall, I’m not worried. Higher borrowing costs are not going to cause short-staffed employers to lay off workers that they desperately need. Workers likely won’t be deterred from job-hopping in search of adventure and better pay, either. We’ll see what happens, but I expect it won’t be anything dramatic.

My husband and I went to Chicago over the weekend for a half-marathon row. Although we’ve done half-marathon road races before, this was our first time rowing that distance. With younger and faster competition, we were mainly just sightseeing rather than contending, but rowing through downtown Chicago was a sight well worth seeing. Here’s a photo that I found online, taken a few years ago:

Chicago Marathon and Half-Marathon

(Photo credit: vxla)

I lost count of the bridges we rowed under—there were so many. At first the weather was pleasantly cool, but then a rainstorm blew in, and we still had a long way to go. The boat had a lot of water sloshing around in it by the time we got back to the dock. Other than a few blisters on my hands and a sore rear end from sitting in the boat for so long, I was no worse for the wear. After changing into dry clothes and getting coffee and a bagel, I felt pretty good.

We could’ve done without the adventures of Chicago traffic on the way home, though. There was one tollbooth that took almost half an hour to get through because some drivers didn’t feel like waiting in four clearly marked lanes, so instead they formed five lanes and jockeyed for position while rolling down windows and yelling at each other. We noticed a car with the license plate “PRVRBS29,” which definitely suited the circumstances.

Because of the tollbooth delay, we got stuck driving in the rainstorm most of the way home, rather than being out in front of it. That was okay, though, because we got ahead of the storm enough so that we had time to stop at our club’s boathouse, take the boat off the SUV’s roof, and wash it and put it away before the rain caught up with us again, just before we got back to our house.

My husband and I went on a day trip to London, Ontario, last week. We both enjoy sculling, and my husband’s boat needed a small repair, so we decided to take the boat back to the Fluidesign factory where it was made. The owner and his son kindly offered to give us a tour of the facility.

Exterior of Fluidesign factory in London, Ontario

The boats start out as thin sheets of carbon fiber, of various types, which look very much like cloth. They are unrolled and cut to the appropriate size for each particular boat.

Rolls of carbon fiber for making boats.

Then they are put into a mold with resin and baked in a very large oven to harden them. The oven had three boats in it when we looked.

Factory oven for carbon fiber boats.

After the shells are hard, they are finished in another area. The company moved to this building not long ago; it’s larger than the previous facility and has plenty of space to move boats around and work on them. It was fascinating to see how the shells are made. They’re almost entirely hollow, which is why they are light and easy to carry, but they’re also strong. My husband expects to get his boat back on Friday, which will be the next scheduled delivery to Ohio.

Factory floor with boats stacked up on racks.

We enjoyed the road trip too. Canada is a beautiful country, and its drivers are careful and courteous. We saw wind turbines everywhere along the highway, which was in very good repair. London’s neighborhoods looked welcoming and friendly, with many blocks of well-kept houses with lovely flower gardens on tiny lots. Now we’re thinking that it would be fun to go back to London sometime to row in a regatta!

August 7, 2018 · 4 comments · Categories: Musings · Tags: ,

Last night I dreamed that I was a trucker (in real life, I’ve never driven a truck) and I had a white goat named Wilhelmina, who rode in the passenger seat of the cab, happily looking out the window and watching the world go by. I took her for a walk at a truck stop like a dog.

White goat standing on grass.

(Creative Commons image via flickr)

I’ve never owned a goat in real life either, but I’ll guess that the meaning of this dream had to do with being adventurous—getting out and seeing more of the world. Long-haul truckers drive to new places every day. Dogs and other pets that enjoy riding in vehicles are always excited about the adventure.

Why a goat rather than a dog? Maybe just to put more emphasis on the idea of doing something unusual. I’m not sure where the name Wilhelmina came from, as I’ve never known anyone by that name. It sounds like a German queen, though, so it does add to the travel motif. Anyway, this dream gave me a bit of fun trying to figure it all out!

When my husband and I have been sculling in our double this summer, we’ve been rowing briskly and then picking up the pace as we practice sprinting to the finish. That may seem like a very basic thing to do, but in past years I never could quite manage it. We learned to row only five years ago, taught by volunteer instructors at the club, and we had no proper coaching until we attended a rowing camp last summer.

So when we started going to regattas in our second year of rowing, my idea of sprinting was pretty simple—row as fast as I could and try to keep that up for the whole course (Masters sprints are 1 km). By the time we got near the finish, I didn’t have anywhere near enough energy to go faster.

Then we went to rowing camp last year, where we learned how to set up our boat properly and sit farther toward the stern to get more powerful strokes. And this year, when we attended the camp again, I learned how to pause for just a fraction of a second after dropping the oars into the water, so as to make sure they are fully in the water and not waste my energy. That also helps us to stay better synchronized.

Although it seemed counterintuitive at first, now the boat goes faster even though I’m taking fewer strokes and using less energy. There’s a general life lesson in there, I’d say. When we take a moment to slow down and make sure we are properly situated, that can result in getting things done more quickly and effectively.

When I was looking online for a sculling photo to illustrate this post, I came across one that was taken with the Royal Dutch Mint in the background:

Sculler in front of the Royal Dutch Mint.

(Creative Commons image via flickr)

So far my husband and I haven’t done a lot of traveling to regattas—we go down to Tennessee a few times a year, but that’s usually as far from home as we get. It would be fun to have a rowing adventure in Europe someday, though!

I’ve been getting outdoors almost every day in the warm weather, rowing and bicycling. Although that’s fun and good for fitness, both my blog and my yard are starting to feel kind of neglected. I keep meaning to sit down and write a post or a story, but then I wander off and do something else instead. My flower garden is full of thistles that grew back after I weeded last month, when I meant to put down fresh mulch but never got around to it. Thistles can be pretty in nature when they’re blooming in a field, but I would like them much better if they would stay there.

Thistles blooming in a field.

(photo credit: publicdomainpictures.net)

If anyone happens to find my responsible grown-up self, please let me know. I’m really not sure what became of her. After all those blog posts I wrote about imaginary conversations with my younger selves, I’m beginning to wonder if I turned loose an inner child who just wants to go out and play all the time.

While it’s probably about time I lightened up a little on those self-imposed To-Do list entries, I haven’t yet gotten comfortable with the empty places where they used to be. I feel as if I might wake up one morning, with only a vague memory of strange thumping noises in a dream, and discover a mindspace like a half-empty attic where a gleeful Younger-Me has tossed dusty old boxes and furniture out the window to make room for a hopscotch grid on the floorboards, decorated in all the colors of the sidewalk chalk bucket.

I started writing this post last weekend when my rowing club went to the US Rowing Masters National Championship regatta, which was in Oak Ridge, Tennessee this year. The club has only one member who rows fast enough to win medals in such a competitive event, but the rest of us had fun anyway. My husband volunteered to tow the boat trailer with his SUV. Going through the mountains with it was an adventure; but he is a good driver, and all went well.

We have rowed at Oak Ridge before in smaller events. It is a beautiful course and very well maintained. The only problem I have is that being outdoors for a long time in the hot, humid Southern air gets to me after a while. So, while my husband watched some races on Saturday in the heat, I sat in a lounge chair by the hotel pool and stayed comfortable in the air conditioning.

Hotel pool and my tanned legs on a lounge chair.

Masters athletic events are interesting because they are such an attitude adjustment with regard to society’s views about aging. Little old ladies in rowing shorts and tank tops were walking around with 30-foot boats on their shoulders. The boats are made of carbon fiber, so they’re not all that heavy; but rowers do need to be reasonably fit.

While I sat by the pool daydreaming, I thought about what the world might be like in a future where older people could expect to stay fit and healthy. By that I don’t mean some amazing new scientific discovery to prevent aging, but just incremental advances on where we are now: better nutrition, exercise, and medical care, along with a shift in cultural expectations so that older people wouldn’t assume poor health was normal and would take better care of themselves accordingly.

Like all of us, I have my share of aging myths that grow like thorny weeds in the subconscious, whispering that every little ache or twinge is a symptom of decline. In today’s culture it may not be possible to root them all out entirely, given how pervasive they are. Still, as with any garden, a thriving mix of tall flowers and thick shrubs can overshadow the pesky weeds enough to keep them tiny and insignificant.

So—what healthy ideas could I plant in my subconscious to crowd out negative views of aging? After giving that question some thought, I decided to visualize what I’ll be doing in 2083. I picked that year because it will be a full century from when my husband and I met in college. Because some people really do live that long in the here and now, it wouldn’t require major advances in longevity science.

I wasn’t composing a bucket list or anything that I really planned to do; it was just a few random, stream-of-consciousness imaginary adventures. Because I already had rowing on my mind, I first pictured myself traveling to Australia with my husband to row a new boat with the latest 2080s technology at a regatta in Sydney. Then I thought, well, this is far enough in the future that maybe we’re booking a vacation at a hotel in a colony on Mars. Or traveling to California in a flying RV. Or working on interesting projects that involve very cool futuristic technology, getting paid lots of money to work part-time hours because of the future economy’s labor shortage.

As I see it, there’s no downside to imagining myself fit, healthy, and adventurous many decades from now. Maybe it won’t happen, and instead I will have been in the grave for a long time by then; but if it turns out that my imaginary adventures were too farfetched, I don’t suppose my ghost will care.