I dropped my bag, sat down, set my feet, tightened the straps, and pulled the first warm-up strokes. Light at first. Arms only. Then back. Then legs, slow and deliberate, easing my body into rhythm even though my chest still felt tight.
Tyler pulled hard beside me. “You look like a ghost.”
“Dude, I just woke up.”
“Gotta keep you humble.”
Sam leaned forward on his recovery, squinting at me. “Nah. He’s got that look. Someone’s in his head.”
“Shut up,” I said. They were idiots, but the kind that grounded me.
The room filled with heat and sound. Sweat gathered at my temples. My legs loosened with each stroke, my shoulders unfurling.
Last week I muscled everything. Rowed angry. And Alex still beat me. By inches. Heat snapped through my chest. I pulled harder.
“Easy, killer,” Tyler said, laughing. “We’re warming up, not reenacting Thermopylae.”
I didn’t slow right away. But then I did. Let the flywheel settle. My breathing evened out. By the time I finished my sequence and stood, my legs felt steadier. My brain clearer. Not clean, but clearer.
Then Hale stepped in, the room shifted and settled.
“Morning,” he said, scanning us. “Before you head out, I want you to hear something.”
He rested a hand against the nearest locker. “Kingswell and Riverside look different on paper. They’ve got new ergs. State-of-the-art shells. And they probably hydrate with imported volcanic water from glass bottles.”
Laughter rippled through the room.
“But once you’re on the water, none of that matters.” Hale tapped his chest. “What matters is efficiency. Everyone at this level is strong. Everyone trains hard. The separator isn’t muscle. It’s movement. It’s how cleanly you convert power into run.”
He walked a few steps, hands behind his back.
“Look at the river today. Chop everywhere. Wind coming in crosswise. Conditions like that punish sloppy technique. But they reward crews who stay long and balanced. Who keep their blades low. Who work with the water.”
The room quieted.
“In choppy water, you don’t fight the river. You lift your hands just enough to clear the peaks, soften your knees so your bow doesn’t slap, time your catches between waves, not into them.”
He looked around. “Kingswell may have better toys. But they row the same water. They face the same chop.”
My chest tightened. Efficiency wasn’t my thing. It was Alex’s thing. But if I wanted to win, then... it needed to be my thing. I just hoped that when we got to the starting line, he’d be distracted by the video from last night.
Hale nodded once. “You’re ready. Go row like it.”
Later in the locker room, I was about to put my socks on when Remy appeared beside me before I could pull them on.
“What’s up, man? You ready for today?”
He shrugged. “I think Varsity will do great. Freshmen? They might surprise people.”
“You were whipping them into shape the other day. Their catches looked sharp.”
“Yeah, they’re getting there.” Remy crossed his arms. “The Freshmen don’t know who they are yet. Don’t know their teammates, don’t trust the calls.”
He paused.
“But once they settle into their seats and stop second-guessing? They’ll be dangerous.”
I nodded. “Makes sense.”
