You walk across the quad to eat supper, and then you see them - the boats, neatly packed the day before. You remember that in the next twenty-four hours you have a race and your appetite vanishes. Nerves. Everyone gets them, but in rowing all your months of training is for that one race, that one chance. The result is that feeling in the bottom of your stomach, the sweaty palms, the dead legs and the insomnia...
The next day is even worse; it is six o'clock in the morning and all night the only things you have been dreaming about are whether you will catch a crab, crash or worse. Previous races rush through your head; a blur of lycra-clad rowers wandering around, school packed lunches and finally the painful command of "Take the rate up Monkton!" Stumbling onto the minibus, you begin to wonder whether all your preparation was worth it. The hours of repacking your kit bag in case it rains (as it often does) and cramming it with spare socks, bananas and blister plasters seems a bit pointless now that you can only shout at your crewmates like a madman.
You are told to visualise your race plan - the last thing you want to do considering that is the only thing you have been doing for the last five hours or so. "Remember, lengthen at the 500 metre mark..." you try desperately to listen attentively but the words fly over your head. Experts say that preventing negative thought, and encouraging positive talk and rational thinking all control anxiety. Pinsent said that nerves are like a "battle going on in your head"; they are hated but necessary for those good results. Nerves cannot be controlled by thinking that the next 2000 metres are not going to hurt, instead by thinking realistically and forgetting the battle raging in your head.
Paddling up to the start, it hits you - D-day has arrived and it's your chance to win. The nerves change, adrenalin begins to pump through your veins and the moments of trying to calm yourself with relaxing music and stretches fade. Some say that nerves are meant to prepare us for the unexpected - maybe a crew creeping up on you or a swan looking for a fight, but we like to think that they might lead to an unexpected win.
When aligning your boat with the stake boats you envy the small boys lying at your stern. They know that they will not have to endure the terrifying race ahead and you, the gibbering wreck, are all too aware of this. "Are you ready Monkton?" Are we ever ready? In the racing start the plague of nerves is lifted, your fear now lies hidden behind your rhythm, your technique and your power. Determination fills the hole that the nerves left; 1500 metres to go, 1000, 750, 500 and then the finish is at your finger tips. You thank your race plan, your cox, your coach, and the months of training. You have won the battle and you forget you were ever nervous. The nerves have gone away...until next time.
Isabel Coates