Sophie’s Choice – When Work and Rowing Collide

There’s something I kept from you for the whole of the summer. I’m sorry about this – it’s not like me to be economical with the actualité – but I was embarking on a big and scary challenge and I just didn’t want to jinx myself.

Because here’s the thing. Back at the beginning of July, our club decided to enter the Great Ouse Marathon in Ely – a 22km upstream race that would have been by far the longest distance I’d ever rowed.

I knew this was going to be a challenge for me. Although I train regularly and work hard at it, my stamina is always a little bit suspect, having – as many of you know – suffered from M.E. in my thirties. I’m mostly OK, but am prone to overtraining and every now and then my body just says no. Marathon training was going to take me to a whole new level. So I resolved to start the training, keep it quiet, and see how it went.

The first challenge was making peace with my old enemy the rowing machine. The training involved long sessions, both on the erg and the water, that got longer by the week, and because I’d just swapped sides (I’m officially bisweptual now – sorry, bowsiders) my blisters were fearsome.

The fatigue was pretty fearsome, too. “You’re tired all the time,” remarked my son, as I yawned my way through a post-rowing meal at our local curry house.

But by the end of August I was fitter and stronger than I’d ever been in my life. Yes, I was tired, but I was no longer even remotely freaked out by the prospect of an hour on the erg. And, best of all, after a few trial sessions with different line-ups, I was picked for the two seat in the Monmouth women’s eight, alongside some pretty hot rowers. I was overjoyed.

And then the blow came. I had been due to leave immediately after the marathon for a press trip to Slovenia – a trip I’d worked long and hard to arrange, for a newspaper and a magazine I’d been wanting to write for for years. The very day after the crew was announced, as I rejoiced in my selection, a bomb landed in my inbox. The dates of my trip had changed. We’d be leaving the day before the marathon.

So I had to choose. Either I went on the trip and abandoned my seat in the boat – unthinkable. Or I abandoned a fabulous trip – and two paid commissions – that were going to take my career forward – unthinkable.

It was like choosing between my children. But there it was – I had to choose. After an unbearable couple of days spent writhing and groaning and hoping that somehow a couple of extra days would materialise out of nowhere, I reluctantly chose the work option, having established that there was someone who could take my place in the boat (and – strictly between you and me – would do a finer job of it than I ever could).

So I still haven’t put myself to the marathon test. The Monmouth girls – both the eight and the four – did themselves proud by smashing a couple of records. There’s still some unfinished business – although the eight broke the record for their age, they were rowing as IM3 for reasons unknown, and the four beat the IM3 record but were rowing as a C crew – so we will just have to go back to sort that out another year.

As for Slovenia, it was pretty amazing (and also a little surreal). I visited the incredibly beautiful Lake Bled, where the European and World Rowing Championships have been held. I held a frame of live bees in my bare hands, was offered donkey for dinner, was serenaded with a beekeepers’ hymn on a wind-up music box, drank liqueur at breakfast on one day and sulphurous spa water the next.

Did I make the right choice? I guess I’ll never know. But one thing’s for certain. There’s a marathon still there on my bucket list.