“You don’t look much like a rower”, said a friend, helpfully, on learning that my new sport – and burning passion du jour – was rowing.
“I thought you were a cox”, said another.
It’s true, I confess, that I don’t look like a rower. A measly 5’4″ (on a good day) and a weedy 8 stone 3 (OK, more after Christmas and holidays), I’m not going to be powering my way into a national crew any time soon.
And yet… and yet… My physique might not be typical and my technique still leaves a bit to be desired. But rowing is the only sport that I’ve ever actually liked. It’s the only sport that’s ever reduced me to tears of frustration and disappointment and the only one I’ve ever stuck at for more than a few months.
So no, I don’t look like a rower, but I do think like one. And no.
I. Am. Not. A. Cox.