Three weeks ago, when we bought the trailer, I was going to meet the previous owner to do the title transfer. The front tire on my Acura was totally flat. Huge tear in the sidewall. I think it might have been my fault, because I had left a steel lawn rake on the floor of the garage while I was gluing up the rack for it. That rake probably got the tire.
Two weeks ago, we took the trailer to Cincinnati for a "test run" while I announced the Nationals. Great trip, despite the pouring rain the whole weekend. If we had been camping, that first night would have seen us returning to my parent's house.
The trip back was the adventure as a tire blew out on the trailer just south of Columbus. Because our van has run-flat tires, we didn't have a jack, so we called a tow truck. $40 and an hour later, we were back on the road using the spare. We stopped at my Aunt's in Columbus for dinner, cleaning the trailer and a mental break. Got back on the road to Pittsburgh around 6. The other tire blew two and a half hours later, just west of Wheeling.
Now I was in trouble, because I no longer had a spare. After trying to get the trailer loaded on a flatbed (the angle got too steep) we left it there. I came back the next morning with two new tires, a 2.5 ton hydraulic jack and a lug wrench. The previous tires were put on by Sears and made by such a terrible company that Sears doesn't even use them anymore. Sears refunded the previous owner, because the tires were new in March. He passed that money on to us. So I was out another $100, after putting the right (more expensive) tires on.
This past weekend, we had gone up to Niagara Falls for our anniversary. Good trip, as you can read from the post. The ride back saw another tire adventure. This time, a run-flat on the van failed, over 100 miles from home. Run-flats are supposed to get you 100 miles from when they lose air pressure, but this was on the back wheel. I didn't think it would make it back to Pittsburgh, so I dropped Emily, Will and the trailer at a campground we knew near Moraine State Park. (The run-flats by Bridgestone have worn so quickly on Sienna minivans that Toyota added them to the warranty on the car and will refund your money if you had to replace them in the first 36000 miles. My first set only got to 21000. If this was a Corvette, I could understand. But this is a minivan.)
$200 this time. It appears that we need to budget a new tire per trip and an extra day. I love camping in the trailer. I don't mind the pack up process of leaving Pittsburgh. I'm starting to dread the trip home, because we seem to be 0 for 2 so far.....
Categories: Personal
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Saturday, June 17, 2006
Blogging by the campfire
Check it out: here we are. The second weekend with our new pop-up camper finds us now north of the border in Canada. These Jellystone campgrounds are highly rated for "family atmospheres" and we've got Will with us for our anniversary weekend.
More than the campground, the falls are the attraction. Emily had never been, and it had been years since I was here. With all the regattas up in this area over the last few years, I've never been able to break away and see the falls again. So, we planned our special weekend up here.
We rode the Maid of the Mist today. I wasn't sure what Will would say about a ride in a boat on such a swirling river, and he was very quiet and subdued for the first part of the ride. Once the spray really started getting us, he laughed and had a great time. I think the relief from the heat was his main pleasure out of the experience.
I'll be putting up a few shots of the pop-up once we get home. The connection here isn't very fast, but wireless at a campground seems to be a new idea. Nevermind that there are some class a motorhomes here with satellite dishes. One monster had a plasma TV set up outside. I'm assuming it is removed to the interior when that battleship is in motion.
Categories: Personal
More than the campground, the falls are the attraction. Emily had never been, and it had been years since I was here. With all the regattas up in this area over the last few years, I've never been able to break away and see the falls again. So, we planned our special weekend up here.
We rode the Maid of the Mist today. I wasn't sure what Will would say about a ride in a boat on such a swirling river, and he was very quiet and subdued for the first part of the ride. Once the spray really started getting us, he laughed and had a great time. I think the relief from the heat was his main pleasure out of the experience.
I'll be putting up a few shots of the pop-up once we get home. The connection here isn't very fast, but wireless at a campground seems to be a new idea. Nevermind that there are some class a motorhomes here with satellite dishes. One monster had a plasma TV set up outside. I'm assuming it is removed to the interior when that battleship is in motion.
Categories: Personal
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Mentors, Part I: Todd
Before you can understand the impact Todd had on rowing in Cincinnati, you must first understand what the situation was when he was hired. The Cincinnati Rowing Club had masters and juniors, a modest fleet of various boats and was a feature piece of the Cincinnati bicentennial celebration in 1988. The entire riverfront was transformed, with a new "boathouse" at the end. This building had a Montgomery Inn Ribs King restaurant on the top two floors, with the entire basement becoming a training center for rowing. Tanks were installed, thirty ergs were purchased and a full set of Nautilus weight trainers were installed. In theory, one could launch a single from the boathouse, carrying the boat down three stories of stairs to launch off a concrete pad, but there was never rowing out of the building.
My first year was marked by positive experiences as a novice, a few medals, and some great stories. The infamous challenge to Brown University's varsity boat by Josh and our novice 8 happened that year, along with our disqualification for leaving our coxswain's 35 lbs of sand on shore at our head coach's instructions are fodder for later posts. I can't really remember how our varsity boat did that year, other than not being too blown away by their results.
Strange things began happening near the end of the spring. It turns out there were various financial schenagians by the staff, leading to the entire club going bankrupt that summer. The training center was ceded to the city parks and rec commission, along with all the equipment. A group of parents came together to form the Cincinnati Junior Rowing Club. We heard they had gotten together with a rowing booster in the city who had connections all over the east coast. He had hired a new coach, who would join us that fall.
I didn't row that fall. Surprised? I was a band geek. The previous year I had rowed from 3 to 5:30, when my mother would pick me up in the car with dinner and drive me to band practice from 6 to 9. Homework and sleep predictably suffered. I had to choose one that fall, and being a fifth year junior with girlfriend in the color guard, I chose band. Then, near the end of the fall, girlfriend and I broke up for the 675th and final time. I dropped her via a pay phone (remember those?) during lunch while she was home sick with mono. Just to put icing on the cake, I came down with mono exactly one month later, in late November. Laid up until the second week of December, I wasn't cleared to row until the first week of January.
By that time, the team was rowing out of rented, unheated warehouse space far on the north side of town. The city had taken over the training center and was in the middle of a huge renovation following massive flooding that winter. I joined the team halfway through the winter training. When Todd had first talked to them about training, he had said they would "pull hard, every day." That was scary for many, especially when they were told many erg workouts would be an hour long. They got very interested in the training methods after a very good result at a head race that fall. The guys were used to hours by the time I was started very slowly by Todd. 20 minutes, thirty minutes at a time for the first few weeks. His coaching style was different from what I had known. He didn't make a lot of comments through the piece, only once or twice. He just wanted us to put the work in.
Some things became very clear about Todd quickly. First, he had more experience in rowing than anybody we had ever known. He told us stories about wooden boats and days when Cornell was a good crew. (Sorry, couldn't resist.) He told us stories about the days he had coached the Groton School. Second, he really cared about us as people, not just as athletes. When Todd gave a talk about underage drinking, how it affected our training and how sneaking around with such an activity was dishonest and didn't belong in rowing, a group of high school seniors and juniors actually listened. And did what he asked: no booze once we went on the water. We didn't do this because we were scared of him, we did it because he respected us and talked about it like we were adults, not kids.
Third, it was obvious that Todd was and still is totally nuts. The guy hated losing, always wanted to win and loved a great joke. April 1st seems to be his favorite day of the year. He wasn't a coach, he was a grandfather, shepherding around a bunch of grandsons he had taught to pull really hard and win races by huge margins. And the margins were big, and getting bigger.
There were only 11 guys rowing in Cincinnati that spring. One raced a single for his private school. Two seniors with us weren't as serious as the rest and Todd put them in a double. Our 8 selection was mainly him trying out different lineups behind one of two strokes. By April, the boat was set. We won Midwest that year in the 8 and the 4 in such undramatic fashion that Todd seemed a little disappointed in our lack of enthusiasm. He told us we should stay rowing until late July and go to USRowing Nationals, where we won as well.
Think about that. 8 of the 11 boys rowing in Cincinnati, all in their second year, won USRowing Nationals. Even some of the jocks at my football-mad high school heard about it the next fall and congratulated me for being a national champion. What the heck had this man done?
He had been fanatical about his crew. He cared about us, just like a parent. He pushed, praised asked for more and never made you feel bad if you fell short. He chided, lectured and glared when we did something stupid that we should have known better. He joked with us. He quoted Shakespeare to us, taught us how to visualize a race and knew just how to taper his crew. He cried when we won.
I learned that I must be that lunatic about my crews. A coach must respect his athletes and truly care about what happens to them long after the last race is complete, or those athletes might never totally trust the coach. As everyone knows, trust is central to the sport of rowing, between the athlete and him/herself, between the members of the crew and between the boat and the coach.
Todd taught me to trust that athletes are resilient and can handle a workload most people don't think is possible. They thrive when presented with such a challenge. He watched us carefully, charted our distances and constantly asked us how we felt. His mental preparation was always great, something that I still need to work on as a coach. He demonstrated the benefits of experience and patience.
Many of my on-water workouts are from that period of my life. I can't for the life of me describe how he talked to us on the water or what he would say about technique. It was always about pulling hard and together. On the water, it was about making the boat set up and sing, waiting for his reaction from the launch.
Basically, we would have rowed over a dam if he had told us. Great coaches have that sort of relationship with their crews. His crews are never the biggest, usually don't row the "prettiest" and they don't act like a bunch of military school cadets. But where he goes, there is victory.
Categories: Coaching, Tribute, Rowing, Personal
My first year was marked by positive experiences as a novice, a few medals, and some great stories. The infamous challenge to Brown University's varsity boat by Josh and our novice 8 happened that year, along with our disqualification for leaving our coxswain's 35 lbs of sand on shore at our head coach's instructions are fodder for later posts. I can't really remember how our varsity boat did that year, other than not being too blown away by their results.
Strange things began happening near the end of the spring. It turns out there were various financial schenagians by the staff, leading to the entire club going bankrupt that summer. The training center was ceded to the city parks and rec commission, along with all the equipment. A group of parents came together to form the Cincinnati Junior Rowing Club. We heard they had gotten together with a rowing booster in the city who had connections all over the east coast. He had hired a new coach, who would join us that fall.
I didn't row that fall. Surprised? I was a band geek. The previous year I had rowed from 3 to 5:30, when my mother would pick me up in the car with dinner and drive me to band practice from 6 to 9. Homework and sleep predictably suffered. I had to choose one that fall, and being a fifth year junior with girlfriend in the color guard, I chose band. Then, near the end of the fall, girlfriend and I broke up for the 675th and final time. I dropped her via a pay phone (remember those?) during lunch while she was home sick with mono. Just to put icing on the cake, I came down with mono exactly one month later, in late November. Laid up until the second week of December, I wasn't cleared to row until the first week of January.
By that time, the team was rowing out of rented, unheated warehouse space far on the north side of town. The city had taken over the training center and was in the middle of a huge renovation following massive flooding that winter. I joined the team halfway through the winter training. When Todd had first talked to them about training, he had said they would "pull hard, every day." That was scary for many, especially when they were told many erg workouts would be an hour long. They got very interested in the training methods after a very good result at a head race that fall. The guys were used to hours by the time I was started very slowly by Todd. 20 minutes, thirty minutes at a time for the first few weeks. His coaching style was different from what I had known. He didn't make a lot of comments through the piece, only once or twice. He just wanted us to put the work in.
Some things became very clear about Todd quickly. First, he had more experience in rowing than anybody we had ever known. He told us stories about wooden boats and days when Cornell was a good crew. (Sorry, couldn't resist.) He told us stories about the days he had coached the Groton School. Second, he really cared about us as people, not just as athletes. When Todd gave a talk about underage drinking, how it affected our training and how sneaking around with such an activity was dishonest and didn't belong in rowing, a group of high school seniors and juniors actually listened. And did what he asked: no booze once we went on the water. We didn't do this because we were scared of him, we did it because he respected us and talked about it like we were adults, not kids.
Third, it was obvious that Todd was and still is totally nuts. The guy hated losing, always wanted to win and loved a great joke. April 1st seems to be his favorite day of the year. He wasn't a coach, he was a grandfather, shepherding around a bunch of grandsons he had taught to pull really hard and win races by huge margins. And the margins were big, and getting bigger.
There were only 11 guys rowing in Cincinnati that spring. One raced a single for his private school. Two seniors with us weren't as serious as the rest and Todd put them in a double. Our 8 selection was mainly him trying out different lineups behind one of two strokes. By April, the boat was set. We won Midwest that year in the 8 and the 4 in such undramatic fashion that Todd seemed a little disappointed in our lack of enthusiasm. He told us we should stay rowing until late July and go to USRowing Nationals, where we won as well.
Think about that. 8 of the 11 boys rowing in Cincinnati, all in their second year, won USRowing Nationals. Even some of the jocks at my football-mad high school heard about it the next fall and congratulated me for being a national champion. What the heck had this man done?
He had been fanatical about his crew. He cared about us, just like a parent. He pushed, praised asked for more and never made you feel bad if you fell short. He chided, lectured and glared when we did something stupid that we should have known better. He joked with us. He quoted Shakespeare to us, taught us how to visualize a race and knew just how to taper his crew. He cried when we won.
I learned that I must be that lunatic about my crews. A coach must respect his athletes and truly care about what happens to them long after the last race is complete, or those athletes might never totally trust the coach. As everyone knows, trust is central to the sport of rowing, between the athlete and him/herself, between the members of the crew and between the boat and the coach.
Todd taught me to trust that athletes are resilient and can handle a workload most people don't think is possible. They thrive when presented with such a challenge. He watched us carefully, charted our distances and constantly asked us how we felt. His mental preparation was always great, something that I still need to work on as a coach. He demonstrated the benefits of experience and patience.
Many of my on-water workouts are from that period of my life. I can't for the life of me describe how he talked to us on the water or what he would say about technique. It was always about pulling hard and together. On the water, it was about making the boat set up and sing, waiting for his reaction from the launch.
Basically, we would have rowed over a dam if he had told us. Great coaches have that sort of relationship with their crews. His crews are never the biggest, usually don't row the "prettiest" and they don't act like a bunch of military school cadets. But where he goes, there is victory.
Categories: Coaching, Tribute, Rowing, Personal
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
USRowing Youth Nationals
The west coast has it going on. Look at the results, particularly the finals of the 8s. In the open events, west coast programs had 4 of 6 lanes. Unlike other regattas, you can't blame that on the draw, because there were reps. Those were the fastest 6 boats, and the west coast won.
In rowing, time on the water usually results in more boat speed. The simple fact is that west coast clubs can row close to year around if they so choose. They get more water time than the rest of the country. In the past, this advantage was negated by better coaching and athletes in the Midwest and east. Even these advantages have disappeared as the coaching on the coast has gotten much better.
Want to know why I think this? Watch the last 250m of any of those races. West coast crews have a sprint, every time. They can lift the rating and the boat speed higher over base than the rest of the country. When a final came down to a sprint, the safe bet was the west coast crew. Great sprints come from boats that have rowed together for a long time.
This doesn't mean that the Midwest and east are no longer competitive. The lightweight 8s, the quad and 4s saw more representation from the rest of the country. But the boat that values water time and teamwork the most, the open 8, saw domination from the coast.
Hit the results again and look at the final picture of the men's quad. .01 second. Half a bowball. Frankly, that's within the margin of error down at the start. Those two boats broke away from the field very quickly and never got more than a few seats apart all the way down the course. Great race. That is the 4th year in a row for Malvern.
There were a lot of great races. The women's open 8 saw Pocock training center lead just about the whole way, but every other boat in the race was in second place at one point in time. It was lunatic. The open men's event saw St. Joe's Prep make a courageous bid for the gold, coming back from 6 seats down to 2 seats up with about 400m to go. But they had exhausted their energy, and St. Ignatius' sprint was too much.
A little note on the weather. East Fork has two prevailing winds. The winter and spring see a wind from the northeast, which is a headwind on the course, slightly from the beach. The summer and fall see 180 degrees opposite, resulting in a tailwind. That course saw Harvard in 1994 pull something near 5:15 for a 2k. Yes, that was a tailwind. The tailwind is fair, pushing all lanes equally. The head wind isn't as fair, because there is a point on the lane 6-7 side of the course that gives about 700m of protection from the wind. You could tell during the racing, as the middle lanes would move out on the field, only to be attacked from those lanes in the middle of the race. I usually have to fall back when announcing from that side so as not to wake those boats. This year, those boats were usually a factor for a medal.
I'm not saying the course is screwed up. That's part of rowing, and there really isn't a better centrally-located racecourse in the country. It's just something to know about the next time anyone reading this is in Cincinnati.
Don't think this is a "real" championship? The numbers were up again this year, with semis in most events. I've always supported this race, because I believe there should be a true national championship in high school rowing. Just getting there is something to be proud of, and people who don't know anything about the sport sit up and take notice at "Yeah, my team came in 8th in the nation last year." That means something.
Ok, I've blabbered on enough about all this, and it's late. Up this post goes, with more to come of the story of the 30 hour return trip, pop up camper stories and the beauty of lightweight rowing.
Categories: Regattas, Rowing, Coaching
In rowing, time on the water usually results in more boat speed. The simple fact is that west coast clubs can row close to year around if they so choose. They get more water time than the rest of the country. In the past, this advantage was negated by better coaching and athletes in the Midwest and east. Even these advantages have disappeared as the coaching on the coast has gotten much better.
Want to know why I think this? Watch the last 250m of any of those races. West coast crews have a sprint, every time. They can lift the rating and the boat speed higher over base than the rest of the country. When a final came down to a sprint, the safe bet was the west coast crew. Great sprints come from boats that have rowed together for a long time.
This doesn't mean that the Midwest and east are no longer competitive. The lightweight 8s, the quad and 4s saw more representation from the rest of the country. But the boat that values water time and teamwork the most, the open 8, saw domination from the coast.
Hit the results again and look at the final picture of the men's quad. .01 second. Half a bowball. Frankly, that's within the margin of error down at the start. Those two boats broke away from the field very quickly and never got more than a few seats apart all the way down the course. Great race. That is the 4th year in a row for Malvern.
There were a lot of great races. The women's open 8 saw Pocock training center lead just about the whole way, but every other boat in the race was in second place at one point in time. It was lunatic. The open men's event saw St. Joe's Prep make a courageous bid for the gold, coming back from 6 seats down to 2 seats up with about 400m to go. But they had exhausted their energy, and St. Ignatius' sprint was too much.
A little note on the weather. East Fork has two prevailing winds. The winter and spring see a wind from the northeast, which is a headwind on the course, slightly from the beach. The summer and fall see 180 degrees opposite, resulting in a tailwind. That course saw Harvard in 1994 pull something near 5:15 for a 2k. Yes, that was a tailwind. The tailwind is fair, pushing all lanes equally. The head wind isn't as fair, because there is a point on the lane 6-7 side of the course that gives about 700m of protection from the wind. You could tell during the racing, as the middle lanes would move out on the field, only to be attacked from those lanes in the middle of the race. I usually have to fall back when announcing from that side so as not to wake those boats. This year, those boats were usually a factor for a medal.
I'm not saying the course is screwed up. That's part of rowing, and there really isn't a better centrally-located racecourse in the country. It's just something to know about the next time anyone reading this is in Cincinnati.
Don't think this is a "real" championship? The numbers were up again this year, with semis in most events. I've always supported this race, because I believe there should be a true national championship in high school rowing. Just getting there is something to be proud of, and people who don't know anything about the sport sit up and take notice at "Yeah, my team came in 8th in the nation last year." That means something.
Ok, I've blabbered on enough about all this, and it's late. Up this post goes, with more to come of the story of the 30 hour return trip, pop up camper stories and the beauty of lightweight rowing.
Categories: Regattas, Rowing, Coaching
Friday, June 02, 2006
Mentors, Preface
Few people have as great an impact upon a young person's life as a coach. Years after games have been forgotten, graduations have passed and younger siblings have passed through, coaches are remembered. Sometimes for better, sometimes for worse, coaches are remembered. Bad decisions, compliments in passing, off the cuff comments a coach couldn't recall for any amount of money become pivotal moments in the athlete's life.
I can remember some moments trying to play little league baseball. While trying to teach the team to bunt, my coach hit me with a practice pitch. Later on, when practicing fielding, he sent a grounder far off to my right. When I cut it off and made the throw to first, he said "Hey, nice range out there." I actually enjoyed that practice and the next game. Anyone who has seen me swing futilely at a wiffleball can attest I am terrible at anything resembling baseball. But I'll always remember one day when a coach complimented me.
Rowing coaches have such an impact. We're with our athletes through eight months, through long ergs, long trips and long rows. The sheer volume of time makes throwaway comments far more likely to create a lasting memory than any slightly scripted pre-race pep talk. The times I think to myself "I've got to talk to the team about this" are far more likely to pass out of their minds than stay with them.
I've been thinking about my coaches the last few days. I'll be writing about the impacts they've had on my life and coaching style for this week. The first "chapter" that addresses my high school coach has been very long in writing. I've been working on some sort of tribute to Todd for nearly a year, and have never been happy with what I've written. I suppose the time has come to just put something out there and see how everyone responds. I won't send him the link for awhile, because he never really liked being singled out. Heck, we always had to drag him up whenever we had pictures taken.
Why write about this? One part is to give everyone some insight into what I'm thinking most days and why I say some of the things I do. Also, these coaches deserve some kind of recognition, because they are all very talented men. Finally, I'm expressing the hope that I've had and have half the influence on my athletes that these men have had on me.
Categories: Coaching, Tribute, Rowing, Personal
I can remember some moments trying to play little league baseball. While trying to teach the team to bunt, my coach hit me with a practice pitch. Later on, when practicing fielding, he sent a grounder far off to my right. When I cut it off and made the throw to first, he said "Hey, nice range out there." I actually enjoyed that practice and the next game. Anyone who has seen me swing futilely at a wiffleball can attest I am terrible at anything resembling baseball. But I'll always remember one day when a coach complimented me.
Rowing coaches have such an impact. We're with our athletes through eight months, through long ergs, long trips and long rows. The sheer volume of time makes throwaway comments far more likely to create a lasting memory than any slightly scripted pre-race pep talk. The times I think to myself "I've got to talk to the team about this" are far more likely to pass out of their minds than stay with them.
I've been thinking about my coaches the last few days. I'll be writing about the impacts they've had on my life and coaching style for this week. The first "chapter" that addresses my high school coach has been very long in writing. I've been working on some sort of tribute to Todd for nearly a year, and have never been happy with what I've written. I suppose the time has come to just put something out there and see how everyone responds. I won't send him the link for awhile, because he never really liked being singled out. Heck, we always had to drag him up whenever we had pictures taken.
Why write about this? One part is to give everyone some insight into what I'm thinking most days and why I say some of the things I do. Also, these coaches deserve some kind of recognition, because they are all very talented men. Finally, I'm expressing the hope that I've had and have half the influence on my athletes that these men have had on me.
Categories: Coaching, Tribute, Rowing, Personal
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