I Learned to Row (kinda)

I guess rowing has always been in my life one way or another. I grew up sailing, often spending hours stealing away in our dinghy, rowing around New England harbors. And our daughter, well she sure got the bug…national champion sculler in high school, collegiate rower, and two-time national team rower. And my company, 7-Seat, it’s a nod to the 7 seat in an 8-person shell, the seat tasked with connecting strategy set by the coxswain and stroke seat to execution by the rest of the crew.

So it was only a matter of time before I’d connect the dots and actually get in a rowing shell myself and learn how to row. I mean how hard could it be?

In Silicon Valley, perhaps surprisingly, we have a few clubs to choose from. So I signed up for a Learn to Sweep program at Los Gatos Rowing Club (LGRC) and a Learn to Scull program at Bair Island Aquatic Center (BIAC). Actually, my wife signed both of us up for the programs, so credit and thanks to her. But that's another story! Both LGRC and BIAC are top-notch clubs with scenery reflecting the beauty of the valley from the Santa Cruz Mountains to the wetlands of the San Francisco Bay.

But never mind the scenery, when you’re in the boat, you’re all in. Apparently you don’t have a choice. For starters, there are a lot of moving parts, and instructions barked out by the coxswain: "hands on", "hold water", "way enough!". And your body? Sit up straight, relax your shoulders, light grip pressure, arms, body, legs, legs, body, arms. Simple. If only. The boat is wobbling, my oars are everywhere, and I’m tense like a knot. But wait, in all the slides leadership would flash up at town halls and all-hands, rowing looked so sleek and elegant. 

In sculling, you hold both oars…and in the learn to row program I was alone in a single. It was all me, all the time. In sweep rowing, each rower handles only one oar. So whether it’s a 2-, 4-, or 8-person boat, it’s teamwork from the start.

Being in a single shell demands total concentration. Well, it sure did for me! Any slight movement of the hands or body and the boat tips, I mean really tips, like the first time you get going on a bike, wobbling all around. My mind goes blank. I’m not thinking about the latest Claude or ChatGPT model, or SaaS-pocalypse, or the fate of humanity, just “don’t fall in the water!” Oh, and if that’s not enough, you're doing all of this while facing backward. You can steal a glance over your shoulder every few strokes and pick a point behind you, but the rest is about trusting yourself.

Me trying to keep it together. Neighboring Stanford boathouse in the background.

Now a graduate of the 5-session Learn to Scull program, I’m starting (starting) to get the hang of it. But it’s not easy. It requires focus, balance, patience, and of course a big dose of humility. Kind of like one’s career. Focus to get the job done, balance so it doesn’t overtake your life, patience to get to your destination, and humility because careers invariably hit rough waters. 

Being in an 8-person shell is a totally different experience. Your individual moves, while they do affect the boat, are not nearly as magnified as they are in a single shell. So that part is easier, but in return you now have this massive requirement to team with the other 7 rowers in the boat.

Don’t get me wrong, the boat is still wobbly, especially with an 8-pack of novices, but getting dunked isn’t the top concern. Instead it’s staying connected and in sync with the person in front of you (or in your head if you’re in the stroke seat). Way harder to do than it appears. And of course the whole time, you’re facing backward. But in this case, the coxswain does the steering, not you. So now you need to trust someone else’s vision, not yours. (sound familiar?)

I won’t share my GPA, but I did graduate from the Learn to Sweep program. I rowed in the 6 seat mostly, part of the engine room, staring at the back of my company's namesake the whole time. I have a lot to learn still…focus, balance, patience, humility once again…but my interest is piqued. So much so that I opted into the Novice Program free trial. I’m in the funnel, ha!

Days 1 and 2 were this past week. Both days, same routine. Alarm at 4am, face slapped, coffee downed, geared up by 4:50, at the boathouse at 5:20, erging at 5:30. And yep, on the water in the dark, save a little moonlight. Got to sleep in for Day 3, up at 4:30am on Saturday!

Moonset, 6:02am

I have to say, the experience is surreal. The water is glassy still, the valley blanketed with mist, lights twinkling, as if all of Silicon Valley is in sleep mode. The feeling is liberating. Disconnected and connected at the same time. Disconnected from the phone, from the headlines, from AI. Connected only to the sounds of oars and oarlocks, of blades slicing through the water.

I will most likely be one of the 'leads' that actually converts from free trial to paying customer, and for good reason. Not because I want to get up at 4am 3 days a week…although it’s not that bad…but because of the centering effect. The experience of being transported out of a largely digital routine and into a fully immersive physical and human experience.

By the time you get off the water, the sun is up, phone is buzzing with a barrage of headlines, and the valley is bustling once again. The boats and oars have been washed down and put away. The trip is over.

Looking forward again out the windshield, staring at brake lights on the drive home, I ask: Did that happen? What did I just do? Where did I go? I’m not exactly sure. But it makes me want to return to find out.