The Rower That Time Forgot

This morning:

Row 8 rounds of two minutes on, one minute off.

I forgot to take my notebook, so I’m not sure of the meters on my splits. The lowest was 456 (round 1) and the highest was 475 (not round 1.)

I had to break down and join the YMCA again. The affiliate that opened in my town has, sadly, closed up shop. There are three gyms in town: the YMCA, a powerlifting gym, and a globo-gym. After careful consideration I decided on the Y because they have a decent weight room, a full size indoor track, a full size indoor basketball court, and best of all – a Concept 2 rower.

Back in my pre-CrossFit days I used to go there a lot. Mostly I ran or walked or tried to figure out how to insert and extract myself from the inscrutable Nautilus machines. I also distinctly remember there being two rather nice C2 rowers there, whose delights I occasionally partook in. This was back before I knew anything at all about rowing, and when I was scared of the end of the weight room where the barbells resided.

Fast forward to five years on, I emailed the staff at the Y and asked a few pertinent questions like:

• do you still have the rowers?
• can I do Olympic weightlifting?
• do you have med balls, plyo boxes and giant tractor tires?

It turns out they did still have one rower, but none of the other goodies. Happily, I am allowed to bring my own equipment in as long as I’m not worried about some one swiping it. I’m also allowed to do Olympic weightlifting as long as I “don’t bash into a person.” I’m not sure what they think I am going to be doing. I’m not sure they are sure what Olympic weightlifting even is.

I’ll bear crawl across that bridge when I get to it.

In the meantime, I eagerly headed to the Y this morning to reunite with my long lost friend the rower. It is, as I remembered, a genuine Concept 2 rower. It is also the Rower That Time Forgot. This baby is ancient. I guess you could say it has character. No matter, it works, even though the chain feels like it’s being pulled through a chamber filled with gravel and there is a bit of duck tape here and there. Happily, the monitor was relatively receptive to being programmed and I put in my intervals and took off. There was some adjustment required, as the poor rower was stuck in a corner of the track and so close to the wall that the back of my head touched at the end of every pull. I thought about cutting a hole in the wall so my head could just stick through, but I didn’t want to be banned on my first day. I payed for a whole year, after all. So I just moved it a little. Compromises.

My cold is still hanging on a bit, so I decided to start taking ZMA again as that seems to clear my sinuses out for some reason. ZMA has a reputation of inducing some really vivid, far out dreams. I’ve never had a problem with it as my dreams are pretty far out on a normal night. Last night, however, I made the mistake of watching the final episode ever of the great British crime show “Wire In The Blood.” Right as I was popping the ZMA I thought to myself, “Self, I hope we don’t have serial killer dreams all night.” Too late. I did, indeed have serial killer dreams all night. I alternated between being the serial killer, and being Tony Hill, Carol Jordan and Alex Fielding. Lovely. On the bright side, I can breath this morning and I didn’t find any obvious blood stains in my vicinity, so I think I’m in the clear.

If you’re looking for a great show, I highly recommend Wire In The Blood. You can rent all six seasons on Netflix. Not for kids though, especially not for kids right before you send them to bed with a belly full of ZMA.

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3 thoughts on “The Rower That Time Forgot

    • I haven’t ventured into the weight room yet, though I too remember it being filled either with machines that served no clear purpose or large sweaty men grunting loudly while they used the only barbell in the room.

      Yep, Steve closed up, unfortunately. I did score some bumpers and a bar off him though. So I can lift at home whenever I want.

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