In many ways, life has returned to normal since I resumed my regular rowing practice. The laundry basket is reassuringly full of lycra. My hands are once more attractively covered in callouses. You can’t get through the back door without tripping over wellies. And I’ve even got muscles where my normal, non-rowing friends don’t.
I’m not really sure why this is. Our outings aren’t longer than before. I’m back to pretty normal levels of fitness. And I haven’t aged that much in the intervening period.
Could it be that I’m trying harder? Or that my technique’s improving and I’m achieving more out of each stroke? Is it merely the passing of another year? Or have I got selective amnesia that has made me forget how knackering it always was?
Anyway, I’m too tired to figure it out right now. I’m off for another snooze, so wake me up if you have any answers. Zzzzzz…..