Girl on the River fails to crack a smile
My relationship with the ergometer is what the tabloids would describe as stormy. There have been tears. There has been shouting. There have been protracted periods of separation followed by grudging reunions.
Throughout all of this, as with any difficult relationship, my friends have patiently supported me as I wail, complain, obsess and generally navel-gaze.
All this is about to change, though. Down at the club this weekend, when forced back on to the rowing machine by a fast-flowing river, I went through my usual routine of self-deprecation, complaining, fussing, whining about my split and making unladylike noises. As always, my shipmates listened patiently and quietly got on with their own workout. But afterwards I realised just how very dull I had become. I was boring myself with all this moaning, for goodness’ sake, so it must have been mind-numbing for everyone else.
So I have made a resolution. I am changing my ways. Given that the ergo is a fact of life for every rower, I have resolved to roll my sleeves up and get on with it. My split may be feeble, but I will no longer be mentioning it every two minutes. I may not quite learn to love indoor rowing, but I do promise to be less hysterical about it. I shall spend more time on the machine and less time talking about it.
And if it goes really well and we end up renewing our vows, you’re all invited.
