The muddy river water pools around my feet, which are thrust beneath the seat in front of me. My left hip is hugging the gunnel's edge, while the right one is slightly rotated away from the middle, allowing greater reach with my paddle. Sweat continues down my face, under my chin and quickly disappears inside the life preserver hugging my chest. The temperature inside the vest must be ten degrees hotter than the air temperature, which is hovering around 83 degrees. Above me, an American Eagle glides gracefully through the air -- unlike the 595 pound boat which I find myself in. Around us, the Black River is a choppy assortment of waves and debris aided by a gusty July wind.
Our steersman yells, "Attention madam! Paddles ready!"
I ask myself one last time, am I ready? How did I find myself in this boat again? What sounded like a good idea last year has become reality along with the aching muscles and sore back. Mentally I am focused on the water lapping against the side of the boat. It is a brownish-green liquid about to be slice and pulled behind by my wooden paddle. Physically, I am stiff despite the ten minute warm-up consisting of squats and arm circles. It will only get worse.
The air horn to my right blasts the silence as 20 paddles plunge simultaneously into the water.
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During that time, I have turned another year older, scratched my cornea twice, broken my thumb and volunteered to be a part of the Big Blue Dragon Boat Race held in La Crosse on the fifth day of July. Some more painful than others, but valuable lessons -- each and every one.
Unlike my last race in Dubuque, Iowa, my understanding of the sport of dragon boat racing is much better. Our crew of doctors, therapists and nurses are now familiar to me. Friendly faces which were smiling with the satisfaction of participating are now replaced with a determined visage inoculated with knowledge from a winter camp held in Florida.
The Engine Room, not to be confused with the Timing Box or Terminators, is now etched permanently in my mind as a place where your paddle digs deep and pulls with power for practically the entire race. I joked with my wife that they hired me for my muscle, not my mind (and then she tells me they must not think much of my muscle either, because they're not paying me anything).
The Engine Room is located in the middle of the boat in rows 4, 5, 6 and 7. My row companion is a big man who likes to remind me that there is always more to give. When you think you've paddled as hard as you can, there is always another attempt where you will be asked to give "just a little more." John -- who broke a paddle in the Dubuque race -- is also the only one of us who can get us to laugh by doing a bluegrass boogie dance best left to the imagination.
The night before the race I dreamt that I was rowing so hard that one of my arms fell off -- much like the movie "Monte Python and the Holy Grail." Lori, who is one of our lead strokers, turns around and says, "Don't stop paddling! Use your other arm!" My dream continues, of course, until I've lost both arms and legs. For passionate strokers like Lori, the Engine Room is ALL about effort.
The Timing Box is the first 3 rows and includes our lead strokers. This is an area where some of our most determined rowers set the pace for the entire boat. Our practices stressed the importance of three things -- all under the influence of those people in the Timing Box -- timing, endurance and focus.
The success of our boat starts with the timing set by our two lead strokers. It is critical to get a good start. If not, you will find yourself half a boat length behind the leader before you can finish your initial push. For this year's first two races we went with a wet start, which meant we buried the paddle up to our hands. When we found ourselves falling behind, we switched to a dry start, which gave us a better jump on the competition and resulted in a reduction of almost 2 seconds.
Endurance is equally important for the middle of the race, and one we seemed to excel at. In every race we gained on the lead boat the longer we paddled. With each race going 300 meters, your Timing Box must set the pace to a level that can be maintained for most of the race. It's not until the final 50 meters that the word goes out to push harder. This is where close races are lost or won. Nothing gets left in the boat as we grunt, gasp and snort our way to the finish line.
Terminators are in the last three rows of the dragon boat. These rowers must have strong front end grips to keep the pressure on the fast water passing by. As you can imagine, water towards the back of the boat is very fast -- all of it coming your way from the paddlers in the Timing Box and Engine Room. It is very easy to paddle in the last few rows, so it is very important that this group apply steady pressure to their paddles throughout the race.
Assisting in this process is the steersman who is in communication with the drummer (at the front of the boat). Throughout the race, communication and understanding of the number of starting strokes, power strokes and finish strokes is key to a winning time. The boat's length of forty feet may not seem like much, but when a terminator's paddle needs to enter the water at exactly the same time as the lead paddle, focus is the key.
In utter exhaustion, I hang my head as river water runs down my left arm and legs. Despite my heavy breathing, I can hear our steersman yell "Hold water!"
As our boat slows to the rush of bubbles and swirling water, I glance over to my left to see the other dragon boats slow to a stop. The sound of paddles resting on wood accompanies shouts of congratulations and joy. "We did it," I mumble to those around me. "We finished second!"
Unknown to us, we had finished with a time of 1:17:59. That was less than two seconds faster than Hanson's Heroes, who had dogged us all day. First place would go to The Ultimate Salon and Spa with a time of 1:12:80 which blew away the competition in the Corporate Mixed Division.
Our boat gently rocks as the waves push against its side. Bright blue, yellow and red boat houses line the edges of the Black River. Many of them are crowded with spectators anxious for the final race of the day. They shout words of encouragement and wave their arms, hoping to get our attention.
Our steersman turns the boat out of the warm breeze blowing from the South and tells us to gently paddle up river. The change is dramatic. Without the wind blowing against us, I feel like the boat is gliding on top on the water. Almost like the Big Blue dragon had somehow drifted below us to carry the boat to its starting buoy.
I hear someone say that they are glad we have placed second, but now it means we will have to race again -- back to back. The boating committee had decided it would be fun to have a regatta championship race where the top two finishers from the Corporate Division and the Community Division would face off in a final winner-take-all race. The trouble with that idea is that the two winners from the Corporate Division will be at a disadvantage having just finished a race.
Nonetheless, I am thrilled -- as are all of us on the boat -- because it means one more race. One more opportunity "to get our bitch on." One more chance at victory.
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Each participating team choses a unique shirt and name, indicating where they work (Vendi the Red), where they are from (Cashton Fitness Crew), a cause (Healing Dragons) or something funny (Dragon Bottom). Paddlers wear everything from pink tutus and green wigs to someone wearing a German dirndl dress or a beautiful Asian headdress and gown.
Craziest of them all, however, are the sweeps, or steersmen, who spend the day maintaining boat balance and communicating commands. His or her understanding of the boat's environment and water conditions can make the difference between winning and losing. Some of my favorite sweeps use humor through what they wear or what they say. It is pretty easy to tell which ones have been in the sun too long -- they're usually the crazy ones wearing the florescent wig with a coconut bra and grass skirt.
Of course, the greatest spectacle comes in the boats themselves, with their large drums and colorful dragon heads and tail sections. Opening ceremonies include the "awakening of the dragon" where the festival VIP is invited to dot the eyes on a dragon boat head with a brush dipped in red paint in order to reanimate the creature's bold spirit for hearty racing.
This year's Big Blue Dragon Boat Race in La Crosse has reanimated my own passion for the sport, which remains one of the more difficult things I have done. It allows me to participate at a highly competitive level, yet spend time with a group of people who are equally at ease listening to Rob Zombie and AC/DC as they are eating dinner at a classy restaurant in downtown Dubuque.
While we didn't win this year's race, we did finish third out of fifty-two boats. Pretty good for a group that only practiced a few times in the weeks leading up to the race. Many of those who paddled with me will participate in other dragon boat races, including one to be held in Florida. For these warriors, dragon boat racing is more than a once-a-year event. It's an opportunity to challenge themselves with a passage in life to be enjoyed again and again.
"We are Mayo Heartland Express,
with different heart beats within the chest.
Twenty paddles and drummer become one stroke,
that's how we move this damn dragon boat!"
