My 8:22 minutes in hell
11.2.2019
Translation: Eva Francis
Pictures: Thomas Kunz
I'm at the Swiss Rowing Indoors in Zug, rowing like there's no tomorrow. It's hell. After about eight minutes, it’s over and I’m left feeling completely drained. In that moment, my hormones get the better of me and I float home on cloud nine. This is the story of a man on a mad mission.
It's 7:30 a.m. and my alarm clock has done its job of waking me up. Long before the madness begins. Why? I’m nervous and didn’t sleep well. It's Saturday, 26 January 2019. Today’s the day of truth: the day of the Swiss Rowing Indoors – or simply SRI – in Zug. Indoor rowing? Yep, that’s a thing. A bunch of people in a sports hall, giving it their all on an indoor rowing machine, trying to come first in a 2,000 m race.
Where it all began
Last year in November, I was asked to write about Concept2’s indoor rowing machines. Apparently, almost every gym is equipped with Concept2 ergometers. «Write about» isn’t exactly what I call specific instructions. So I started thinking about what to write – a project where I end up taking part in the Swiss Rowing Indoors.
First off, I want to know how fast I can row. So I hop onto one of those machines that I usually completely ignore when I’m at the gym. I need nine minutes to complete two kilometers. So far, so good. To put this into perspective: last year's best time in the men’s category was 5:52 minutes. To be honest, I’d rather not make a fool of myself by lagging far behind everyone else. What to do? Exactly: I need to train.
Jonathan Perraudin from Belvoir rowing club is going to coach me. He has kindly put together a training plan for me, which I’m going to stick to in the weeks before the race. And he invites me to join him for a rowing session on Lake Zurich. How it went? See for yourself:
Masochist or what?
I will be entering the SRI race in the «Men’s over 50 masters» category. Masters. Yeah, right. I can’t help laughing. But my laughter quickly turns into cold sweat when I look at the list of participants. Most of them are members of a rowing club; the rest are part of the CrossFit scene. And then there’s a handful of amateurs like myself. Looks like I’ll be competing against guys who spend most of their time either rowing or doing CrossFit. What that really means becomes clear to me the second I step into the changing rooms. I'm surrounded by hulks. Why the hell am I doing this to myself? It’s Saturday, I could be at home, sipping coffee and watching ski racing on the telly. But then I remember why: because I’m into silly challenges. And I’m a bit of a masochist. Time to warm up. Here we go!
173
Five, four, three, two, one – welcome to hell! As a beginner, this is what rowing feels like: during the first few strokes, you’re thinking: «I could keep going all day long». This delusion lasts about ten seconds. That’s how long it takes to realise you were royally wrong. My Polar sports watch couldn’t agree more: it shows my heart rate going through the roof. It rockets from 120 to 170 beats per minute within a few seconds and stays up in the red zone during the entire race. My maximum heart rate? 173.
The last 500 metres are especially tough. My heart’s pumping and I can’t feel my body anymore. I had no clue that feeling nothing could be so painful. I have another 400 metres to go when the speaker announces the fastest rowers have almost reached the finish line. Lucky bastards. 300 metres to go; some have finished the race. 200 metres to go; I feel like bursting into a flood of tears. 100 metres to go; everyone else has reached the finish line. And then it's over.
08:22.2
I finish the race in 08:22.2 minutes in seventh place. And yes, there were only seven participants in the «Over 50» category. No one else was up for taking part. I totally get why. I missed my goal of completing the 2,000 metres in under eight minutes quite clearly. Still, I'm satisfied. I've never been so fast before and I improved by almost 40 seconds from when I started rowing. That’s not too bad. Time to catch my breath.
After my category’s race has ended, I stay in the sports hall and watch the other races. No matter who’s on the ergometer – men, women, old or young – after the race, everyone has the same look of exhaustion on their face. Once the event is over, I head home. I’m tired but happy. And then this wonderful feeling sets in. I’m pretty sure that’s one of the reasons I love doing sports: when you’re done, a relaxed and blissful mood overcomes you. To me, that’s (almost) the best feeling in the world.
Patrick Bardelli
Senior Editor
Patrick.Bardelli@digitecgalaxus.chFrom radio journalist to product tester and storyteller, jogger to gravel bike novice and fitness enthusiast with barbells and dumbbells. I'm excited to see where the journey'll take me next.
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