A Sign of Spring

Appearances to the contrary, weather forecasts notwithstanding, the first definitive herald of spring has already put in an appearance.

The River has thawed and the crews are on the water.

The expression "on the water" has little significance for any but the subspecies of athletes known as "crew jocks"--and their long-suffering roommates--but for these few, it means a return to a different way of life.

Back to the Water

A return, that is, to the sport in its proper setting. A return to rowing in boats, in water, an activity the Harvard and Radcliffe teams have not pursued since before Thanks giving.

The crews, novice and freshman, J.V. and Varsity, women and men, have rowed indoors for the past few months. They have run countless miles, pushed and lifted tons of weights, and rowed millions of strokes, all in preparation for the spring.

The running is familiar, and even the lifting is a ritual most other teams use for training But rowing indoors is a pastime known only to the crew jocks.

First among the horrors of indoor rowing are the ergometers, known to the aficionado as ergs. These, in two different configurations, measure an oarsman's strength by timing his effort against resistance. Teams use these mechanical nightmares throughout the year to gauge improvement and compare individual performances. They are an ongoing fact of crew, an unavoidable inconvenience.

Only in the winter, the teams take to the tanks. In the recesses of Newell Boat House, the sliding seats and oarlocks of an eight-man shell are duplicated not once but twice Oars extend into water contained in tanks on either side of the cement blocks that hold the oar locks and seats.

In the tanks, the teams simulate a water-borne row as best they can Indeed, many consider a tank more grueling than an outdoor practice. Tanks are shorter--25 or 40 minutes during the week, an hour "of power" on Saturdays--they are more intense, they take place indoors and they are by definition boring (an inherent charm of crew on the Charles is the scenery).

Crews confined to the tanks exude and exert as much or more sweat and effort as teams on the water, without the feeling of the world sweeping past or the excitement of knowing that the boat has never gone as fast. They suffer for the sake of a distant goal and follow a schedule that monopolizes more of the athletes time over the course of a year than perhaps any other sport.

But now all that is over, and the crews are back where they belong. The agony of the tanks has ended Barring unforeseen glacial activity, the Charles is water again instead of ice.