LaPlante 1

Jenna LaPlante Writing 2296 Professor Kearney Wednesday February 16 2011 What do you mean youre not playing volleyball? Its 4:00 a.m. on Wednesday morning as I wake up to my alarm blaring in my ear. Tight quads, a sore back and an appetite bigger than my brothers, reminded me why I was choosing to get up at this ridiculous hour it was time for practice. I tip-toe down my stairs so not to wake up my housemates; I look at the fridge and read my meal plan (which, is costing me twice as much to buy as last year). Two carbs, one protein, a fruit and a glass of milk or Gatorade. Its now 4:30 as I bundle up, stick a set of keys through my knuckles because who knows what type of people are walking around the neighbourhood at this time and briskly walk to our campus meeting spot. I jump in the car with my teammates, some of whom are still sleeping, and we drive to the lake where we will spend the next three hours practicing. Looking back on those early morning routines, I eventually felt like it was worth it when I ran into my old volleyball coach during the Christmas break. Our conversation went something like this: Coach: How does your cousin like Calgary? Me: He likes it, but its weird to see him out of a Leafs jersey. Coach: And its great that your brother is playing university hockey after his years in the OHL. Me: Yeah, hes doing well. Coach: And I heard your youngest brother is getting quite a few hockey scholarship offers? Me: Yup. Coach: So hows volleyball going at Western? Me: Im actually not playing volleyball.... Im... Coach : What do you mean youre not playing volleyball? You trained so hard for so many years. All your brothers are continuing to play what they love. What happened? Me: I broke my ankle before training camp, coach, but its not a big deal cause... Coach: I cant believe youre not playing volleyball! Its always been this way. I am constantly being compared to my other family members. I just wanted to yell at him COACH! Im on the Western Rowing team and we won our OUA Championships. Yeah, its not the NHL, the OHL or volleyball for that matter, but I love it and I

LaPlante 2

wouldnt trade it to play any other sport. But I kept it to myself, because the judgement, comparisons, and disappointment no longer mattered anymore. Admittedly, rowing wasnt always my favourite activity. Dont get me wrong, I now enjoy it more than anything, but I can think of at least two university sports I would have preferred to be playing instead. Yet, when you break your ankle before training camp, you have to turn to the next best thing. Not only am I not playing the sport I spent seven years of my life training for, Im not even involved in a sport that I had known anything about until this year. Prior to tryouts, my entire encyclopaedia of rowing knowledge consisted of a few key terms such as water and boat and the understanding that there are two, four or eight girls in the boat. The opportunity basically arose because it was probably the only sport that accepts people who walk on with little or no experience. Girls like me had gone through the tryouts where our ability to learn quickly and bring intensity, coupled with our level of endurance, were tested and admired, despite our lack of rowing knowledge. Once I made the team, it only seemed logical that rowing at 5:00 a.m. and 4:30 p.m., six days a week for three straight months would result in success; but, winning didnt come easy. It was our final regatta of the year and one of my most painful, vivid and exciting university memories. The first time trial brought a crisis; although we dominated in the race, I felt as though my back was being crushed, a pain I had been feeling for weeks now. I couldnt even lean forward to unstrap my shoes. But I hid the pain well because we only travelled with our 8 girls, so dropping out would have cost us the race. Up until the moment the crews gathered at the boathouse, I was not sure I would row in the finals. I had been withholding any display of pain from my coaches because I wanted to be in this race. This proved to be foolish, because it is now four months later, I am still in that pain because of two slipped discs in my spine, Im not training and Im waiting on the news about surgery. But the consequences didnt matter to me at the time, because it had always been my dream to compete at the university level, and I was finally getting my chance. It was an hour before the race and I decided I would suck it up and go for it. Attention. GO! the official yelled, signalling the start of the final race at the Ontario University Championships. Three quarters, half, three-quarters, full, my coxswain yelled her commands at us. My back tightened, shooting a pain down my right leg. Put your weight into it ladies, she yelled

LaPlante 3

again. At this point there was nothing I could do but forget the pain and push through the hardest seven minutes and twenty-three-point-six seconds of my life. The excitement built as we passed the 1000 meter mark, half way done the race. But the race turned into a nightmare when the winds began to blow. Complicating matters further, we felt the rain begin to fall. My hands started to slip from the oar and everyone began to shift in their seat. The boat rocked left and my coxswain yelled for us to keep balanced. The boat rocked right and she yelled for us to push ourselves. The wind waked the shells without mercy, forcing every crew to alter their game plan. Every girl in that boat felt the same surge of emotion when we hit the 1500 meter mark. Only 500 meters left and we were neck in neck with the Queens crew. This was our time to shine. We had practiced our finishes at least a hundred times in practice, but never in weather this bad. We picked up the pace, pushing through our legs. Catching our breath and keeping our eyes in the boat, we pushed harder than ever to take the lead. At this point, pain or not, there was nothing to lose and everyone gave it their all for the last 100 meters. We heard the horn go off, signalling our win. And though it was considered unsportsmanlike, our entire team let out a huge cheer and sent high-fives down the boat, a move that did of course render a scolding before a congratulations from our coaches and officials. I stepped out of the boat, slouching over from pain, to see my brothers, family and friends cheering on our team as we quickly cleared the dock. It was at that moment that I had realized that it wasnt about recognition from old coaches, my parents or fellow athletes; it was about the pride and satisfaction that comes from trying something new. I had never felt such a rush of exhilaration as I did in those last 500 meters, and those long seven minutes taught me to stop dwelling on the past. Now, rather than dreading the question, I look forward to the next time someone asks, What do you mean youre not playing volleyball?