Hands clenched, arms outspread in front, vertical shins with chest to knees. Inhaling turned into burning sensation in my throat and all the while I could hear cheering coming from all directions. With one final push of my already exhausted legs and pull through of my weak arms, a beep was heard. The sound of crying bled through the speakers of the boat as we sat there motionless for a moment. For two of us in the boat, this indicated the end of an era.
It started out in year 9 when a girl stood up and told the year level of a new sport being offered to the school. A soon as we were able, girls rushed to the notice board to scribble their names into one of the 10 spots given to those who wanted to row. From there, the 8 girls that didn’t drop out at the thought of being on the river for a 7:30 start on a Saturday morning, became part of the inaugural rowing crews. As well as learning about this new sport, it allowed me to make new friends and each session would result in coming off the river laughing about a new thing we had encountered, such as a breaking of an oar, running into the boat of one of the boy school or yelling abuse at the speedboat that splashed water into out boat.
Now, three years on, our team of 10 has turned into a team of 46 girls and knowing that I helped the beginning of something that’s going to continue to grow, and not being apart of it, is a weird sensation. For the remaining eight girls who stuck through all three years, as much as it is a relief knowing that they won’t have to wake up at 5am ever again, or go to frustrating fitness sessions with Nevil, I know that they’re going to miss the sport…and I'm going to miss my figure.
source: redbubble.com