It's a bittersweet night for the Hanover Training Center. After a long summer of love, laughter, and crushing 11 minute anaerobic threshold pieces, our time in New Hampshire is coming to an end. We fly out to Slovenia Friday. Tonight will be our last in this charming New England town. It's kind of sad.
You might think that the nine of us have seen little of this place aside from a stretch of the Connecticut river and the beds in which we spend almost all of our free time sleeping. You might think that every day here is painfully, painfully boring. You might think that some of us are absolutely dying to get the hell out of here. You might even think I'm complaining right now on this very blog. But nothing could be further from the truth. Because this town has embraced us. And we've embraced it in return.
From the waitresses at Lou's Diner to the waitresses at Everything But Anchovies pizzeria to the waitresses at the Dirt Cowboy cafe, we've seen a fascinating cross section of genuine, warm-hearted people. We've also met some people that didn't bring us food but really none come to mind right now. Really, I think Lou's Diner owes the HTC squad a little something. The amount of money we've given that place in the last couple months could put Lou's kid through college. I think we deserve a plaque or a free omelet or something.
Each of us has also built a special relationship with the people that made this all possible - our host families. Because they also give us food. And because without them, we'd all be sleeping at the boathouse like hobos and assistant coaches do. Or sleeping in our cars, like I do when I drink too much to drive.
So for those reasons, we've been very lucky to have such wonderful hosts. And between eating at their dinner tables and sleeping in their guest beds, we've become part of these families. We got to know about their daily lives, their kids, their connection with rowing, where they keep the extra toilet paper. You know, personal stuff. Honestly, you do start to feel some kind of bond. But tonight we break bread together for the last time. It's going to be hard. Like breaking up with a girl you were dating purely out of convenience. Fortunately this time when I say it's because I'm leaving the country, it'll be the truth.
But as hard as it is to say goodbye to New Hampshire, the HTC can't wait to say hello to Bled. This is what we've been living for. The big show. We've been busting our asses all year to prepare for the world championships. And now game time is just a couple weeks away. As the camp's progressed we've speculated about our speed and our chances at winning. And we could safely give ourselves great odds because back then we had so much more time to prepare. And we could go out for practice and just be content to try to improve a little. But now that comfortable time for speculating and preparing and trying to do better is over. It's time to get the job done. The pressure is on, big time.
We'll be in Slovenia in a couple days. Yes, we're fast. But are we fast enough? How fast it that? Who the hell knows? It makes me nervous. Until the grand final, we'll have a handful of race pressure pieces to pull. From here on out we just have to make sure we crush every one. We can't settle for pulling "a pretty good piece considering the conditions". Hearing that phrase is never satisfying.
Part of this reality check, at least for me, comes from the fact that entries were released today. And looking at the opposing lineups, these crews will be seriously fast. So the question is, "why should I expect to be able to beat these guys?" And also maybe, "Why should I expect to win the world championship?". The only way to answer those questions is by posting super fast times during our last weeks of practice.
Every single row is important now. Like midgets at a urinal, we're going to have to stay on our toes.
But before we take off, I just want to say thanks for the memories, Hanover. We'll never forget you. We'll call you when we get back, we swear.
Matt
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