Day 41

OK, here's Part Two of my thoughts on mental training. The second phase is "the day to day," phase, which started for me some time in the third week, when the initial shock had subsided and it was time to get to work on rowing across the ocean. Here's a little on how I've been doing it. You'll have to read my book for the full analysis...

The hardest part is getting out of the cabin in the morning, when I still have 10 or so hours of rowing ahead of me. Luckily, I think that years of rowing, especially the last 24 months that were done primarily by myself, have conditioned my body to at least easily get moving in the direction of the boathouse, rowing machine, gym, etc...which is the biggest challenge of all. Once I arrive at the place where I'll be training, I'm always be able to convince myself that, since I've come this far, I might as well get my rowing piece, lift, run, etc...over with so I can go home and not be a quitter. So, it's generally the same unconscious movement that pulls me out of the cabin and onto the rowing seat every morning and afternoon.

OK, I'm in the seat, gloves on, socks on, ready to go. I have to turn the boat stern to the waves or I'll get soaked in a minute or two, so no messing around. Once I've turned the boat around and pointed west (or whatever direction the wind will take me), the rowing has basically begun, whether I know it or not.

I realized early on that ocean rowing, unlike flat-water rowing, is really a defensive sport. I don't ever go out there to show the ocean who's boss; instead I take every oncoming wave individually with two goals: 1) Don't let the boat capsize or take the wave broadside and get soaked, 2) Use the power of each wave to my advantage to move to boat as far as possible. That's it. My rowing out here is more about protecting myself and not missing any opportunity to gain distance from every wave than it is about actually rowing the boat across the ocean.

Does that make sense? It might be like a boxer that blocks every one of his opponent's punches until the opponent finally falls down, rather than throwing punches in an effort to knock the opponent down directly. It's the ultimate war of attrition.

So that's the mindset, but in order to stay focused I have to see progress and hit milestones constantly. I do this by setting dozens of goals during every shift, each with its own reward of some kind. The GPS screen that I'm looking at shows my position down to .001 nautical miles, so that's an easy way to measure my performance. Any time I want to snack, change the song on my ipod, take a break to stretch, go to the bathroom, etc...I won't do it until I've reached a certain easily attainable goal that I'v set arbitrarily. Bigger rewards for bigger milestones, which means for example that I only end shifts at whole numbers of miles rowed. Things like that...by earning lots of tiny victories all the time, the days go pretty quickly and before I really know it I've rowed all day.

Hope all this makes sense! Note to self -- write shorter posts...

Thanks to all who have supported this expedition and important research at Yale Cancer Center with a donation to Row for Hope. If you haven't donated, or if you would consider donating again, it would be much appreciated. To donate online use the link in the upper right-hand corner of this page or visit www.rowforhope.com.

Paul