I’ve been feeling pretty RARRRR! about sport the last few days. First there was the awesomely fantastic This Girl Can campaign launched by Sport England, designed to encourage women to get involved in sport. If you haven’t seen it, check out their video (and even if you have seen it, it definitely bears a second (and third, fourth, fifth) viewing).
Isn’t it brilliant? It makes me want to get straight out there and get sweaty. Heck, it even makes me feel like going on the erg (especially if it’ll make me look like the girl on the rowing machine).
Then there’s the news about Kevin Jorgesen and Tommy Caldwell achieving the supposedly impossible and conquering the mighty El Capitan in Yosemite Park. For generations it was thought to be a ridiculous notion, but they damned well did it. Alive.
Finally, yesterday I stumbled upon an inspiring article from last year’s Guardian about the fabulous Helen Glover. She talks about how everyone on the Sporting Giants programme told her she’d never make it as she was too small (even at 5’9″). So she decided to prove them wrong.
“I thought: ‘Right, if I’m not taller than you I’ll be stronger than you, and if I’m not heavier than you then I’ll row better than you.’ It’s led to how I row now. I was pushed in that direction because of the way my training group was.”
Wow. Where most people would have crept away feeling diminished, Helen rose to the challenge, not just magnificently, but Olympically. For a vertically-challenged rower like me, that’s pretty stirring stuff.
All of which has got me raring to get out there and kick some riverside ass. There’s just one problem: I’m still not fit. My rib is not healed yet and I’m still exhausted. Taking all this adrenaline and pumping it to training at this point would set me back further than ever.
Instead I’m channelling my new-found determination into getting well. I’ll be posting over the next few weeks about the various things I’m using to help me get better, and Operation Healthy is full steam ahead.
I might just set aside a little bit of it for my coxing, too. Don’t say you haven’t been warned, river-lovers.
