: Dragonboat Experience
James invited, nay, persuaded me to join the Saturday training of paddlers (not rowers, yes, i learned my lesson after much discussion on technicalities).
This could be exciting, once i overcome a few challenges:
When we got to the Harbor Square, some people were already there waiting. After brief introductions (being a newbie feels odd, especially when you’re my age), we immediately got to the warm-ups, running, stretching and everything else one has to do to agitate any waking limb.
After that, positions were called, and I was asked to be the 9th stroke(?) for the bigger boat. “I got in.” I whispered to James.
I was happy, for a few minutes, and that was wayyy before I realized what I really got my self into.
Honestly, my idea of rowing is a bit romanticized. I pictured myself holding a paper umbrella and an old oriental abaniko, with my dream date doing the rowing for me. So the thought of stretching my arms for a boat ride, seemed pretty alien for me.
The group got on the boat, and reviewed the proper way of paddling (okay, fine, they reviewed, and I was taught), the starting position (torso in 30º rotation, lateral arm holding the paddle-neck in full elbow extension and 60º shoulder flexion, the medial arm holding the paddle-handle in 90º elbow flexion and 100º shoulder flexion, with the fist at the level of the forehead), then the rest of the paddling motion. Sounded easy enough. I thought.
We began with the first set, a promising 1000 meters. I admit I have no concept of distance (a precious trait for long-distance relationships, but a slightly unfavorable one for dragonboat-ing); halfway through the set I finally realized why we needed to warm-up and do the stretching. There was this split second, a tiny microsecond when I wished I worked-out more, and smoked less. Too late, I’m already in terrible gasping condition.
The rowing got faster and faster, and I thought I wasn’t going to make it. Apparently, I wasn’t making it, because I kept on hitting the paddle of the guy in front of me (Roy!), that or my oar kept on getting stuck in the water.
I was kind of cheating when I wasn’t moving my body, but this was not left unnoticed. “yves, galaw mo pa katawan mo. Twist!” Said the leader. Okay, I couldn’t argue with that, I couldn’t tell them I’m just tall, or that I’m trying but I’m in terrible pain. I just wanted the set to be over. I didn’t even care that inside my mouth, I was tasting Manila Bay water.
Good thing James was not on the same boat, I would’ve strangled him.
After the first set, the group took a break. We were told about our faults, and how to improve them. My name being one of the most frequently-mentioned. Allow me to take a second to say this, “I wished for less attention!” Whoa, that was hard to spit out.
We started the second set, and the same thoughts came to mind. The second time we took a break, I realized it wasn’t the last set. Fudge. The option of jumping off the boat and swimming back to the shore was genuinely tempting, but the possibility of acute infection and subsequent septic shock made the idea a bit less enticing and a lot more revolting.
There was a moment when I spotted a motor boat moving the opposite direction. And I thought, poor us, we have to paddle manually, and that guy was there sitting conveniently, and he only has to drive his motor boat.
After four brief but grueling sets, I was pretty sure I lost my right arm, the whole right side of my body felt numb, and I was certain I was going to faint. But that didn’t happen, thank goodness.
We went back to the shore (harbor square), and I saw James. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hug him or stab him to death. “Masaya ba?” He asked. I just laughed.
After the numbing exhaustion, my body adjusted, with the appropriate physiologic response, I sensed parts of my body were in horrible pain. Muscles I only knew existed in Gray’s Anatomy, I would’ve identified them one by one, but my medical knowledge is so out of shape that I pointed my Trapezius muscle as part of my lower back. Sorry naman.
Okay, so maybe Freud, or the Marquis de Sade, or Nietzsche was right. The a priori principle that pain affirms existence seemed too familiar. Without pain or struggle, we’d probably meet inevitable atrophy. Yes, what does not kill me, makes me more vain.
Beyond the pain, I have to say, well, in retrospect, it was so much fun. The people were very warm, and everybody was very supportive. Hmmm… I could make this one a regular thing.
James invited, nay, persuaded me to join the Saturday training of paddlers (not rowers, yes, i learned my lesson after much discussion on technicalities).
This could be exciting, once i overcome a few challenges:
And so I did participate in the i-promise-it’s-fun endeavor. Woke up after James sent a wake-up text, checking if I’m awake, and still going. We met at Ministop Pedro Gil, where I realized that some parts of my body are still unwilling to move, perhaps rebelling against the concept of a 5:00am call time. Couldn’t honestly blame them.
1. "i actually need to paddle? pang-aura lang talaga ang mga muskels ko!"
2. "endurance? does emotional endurance count?"
3. "but it's manila bay water!"
4. "5:00 am? but i'm just at the peak of my REM, i think the plot of my ongoing dream wouldn't have been laid out yet."
6. "what do you mean i can't pose while paddling?"
When we got to the Harbor Square, some people were already there waiting. After brief introductions (being a newbie feels odd, especially when you’re my age), we immediately got to the warm-ups, running, stretching and everything else one has to do to agitate any waking limb.
After that, positions were called, and I was asked to be the 9th stroke(?) for the bigger boat. “I got in.” I whispered to James.
I was happy, for a few minutes, and that was wayyy before I realized what I really got my self into.
Honestly, my idea of rowing is a bit romanticized. I pictured myself holding a paper umbrella and an old oriental abaniko, with my dream date doing the rowing for me. So the thought of stretching my arms for a boat ride, seemed pretty alien for me.
The group got on the boat, and reviewed the proper way of paddling (okay, fine, they reviewed, and I was taught), the starting position (torso in 30º rotation, lateral arm holding the paddle-neck in full elbow extension and 60º shoulder flexion, the medial arm holding the paddle-handle in 90º elbow flexion and 100º shoulder flexion, with the fist at the level of the forehead), then the rest of the paddling motion. Sounded easy enough. I thought.
We began with the first set, a promising 1000 meters. I admit I have no concept of distance (a precious trait for long-distance relationships, but a slightly unfavorable one for dragonboat-ing); halfway through the set I finally realized why we needed to warm-up and do the stretching. There was this split second, a tiny microsecond when I wished I worked-out more, and smoked less. Too late, I’m already in terrible gasping condition.
The rowing got faster and faster, and I thought I wasn’t going to make it. Apparently, I wasn’t making it, because I kept on hitting the paddle of the guy in front of me (Roy!), that or my oar kept on getting stuck in the water.
I was kind of cheating when I wasn’t moving my body, but this was not left unnoticed. “yves, galaw mo pa katawan mo. Twist!” Said the leader. Okay, I couldn’t argue with that, I couldn’t tell them I’m just tall, or that I’m trying but I’m in terrible pain. I just wanted the set to be over. I didn’t even care that inside my mouth, I was tasting Manila Bay water.
Good thing James was not on the same boat, I would’ve strangled him.
After the first set, the group took a break. We were told about our faults, and how to improve them. My name being one of the most frequently-mentioned. Allow me to take a second to say this, “I wished for less attention!” Whoa, that was hard to spit out.
We started the second set, and the same thoughts came to mind. The second time we took a break, I realized it wasn’t the last set. Fudge. The option of jumping off the boat and swimming back to the shore was genuinely tempting, but the possibility of acute infection and subsequent septic shock made the idea a bit less enticing and a lot more revolting.
There was a moment when I spotted a motor boat moving the opposite direction. And I thought, poor us, we have to paddle manually, and that guy was there sitting conveniently, and he only has to drive his motor boat.
After four brief but grueling sets, I was pretty sure I lost my right arm, the whole right side of my body felt numb, and I was certain I was going to faint. But that didn’t happen, thank goodness.
We went back to the shore (harbor square), and I saw James. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hug him or stab him to death. “Masaya ba?” He asked. I just laughed.
After the numbing exhaustion, my body adjusted, with the appropriate physiologic response, I sensed parts of my body were in horrible pain. Muscles I only knew existed in Gray’s Anatomy, I would’ve identified them one by one, but my medical knowledge is so out of shape that I pointed my Trapezius muscle as part of my lower back. Sorry naman.
Okay, so maybe Freud, or the Marquis de Sade, or Nietzsche was right. The a priori principle that pain affirms existence seemed too familiar. Without pain or struggle, we’d probably meet inevitable atrophy. Yes, what does not kill me, makes me more vain.
Beyond the pain, I have to say, well, in retrospect, it was so much fun. The people were very warm, and everybody was very supportive. Hmmm… I could make this one a regular thing.