"No matter how well you know the course, no matter how well you may have done in a given race in the past, you never know for certain what lies ahead on the day you stand at the starting line waiting to test yourself once again.  If you did know, it would not be a test, and there would be no reason for being there."  -Dan Baglione
 

"The self-destructive way to do it is to convince yourself that 'there's just one more to go' and pull out at about a 1:30.  If, and only if, you can convince your body that it's only got one stroke left, you can really empty the tank (and, immediately afterwards, your stomach)."
 

The window of X Factor opportunity opens up in the closing seconds of a race--you might be sprinting at the time or just hanging one, trying to get across the finish line. With a supreme act of will, you can prolong your effort, essentially fighting off the inevitable lactic acid shutdown. You'll have little time for contemplating the options: either wholeheartedly go for it, or back off. You must train your X Factor to unequivocally respond the way you want--go for it. Once the window is closed, it's closed forever."  -Brad Alan Lewis
 

I watched them carefully, as always, searching for a sign of mental weakness.  But there was none.  Every man was coping well with the hardship, each one of them locked into his task.  But it is one thing to practice, and quite another to race.  And the trouble is, you never know who, on the day, will find it within his soul to give more than he has ever given before.  It takes a kind of madness to compete like that because of the willpower and the ego and his loyalty.  And while some men have it, others have yet to find it. And a coach can only use his best judgment as to who those men will be."  -Dan Topolski
 

"We can't have a perfect world, but hopefully there is at least a balance between times when you say to yourself, "This sucks," and times when you say, "This Rocks!"  I guess as rowers we should have a bit of an edge on other people.  We erg 10 and 12k on the side to get ahead, row in cold, rain, sleet, barge wakes, snow; and then to top it all off, when we go up and over heads, a torrent of water comes pouring down on our heads.  But then for 20 minutes on a brisk fall day or 6 minutes on an equally brisk spring day we push to the max, feeling on the verge of dying, then we cross the line first, and the pain, the cold, wetness, blisters, and even the frost on our brows doesn't matter, as it is all swept away in a wave of victorious jubilation and most importantly, satisfaction.  As in rowing, academics and many aspects of life are hard work, and I think I'd pull a 15k over writing a paper or physics problem set any day.  But when academic work gets hectic, WE REMEMBER the hundreds of thousands of meters we've dug out of lakes and ergs with our bare and often frostbitten hands, and we know beyond the shadow of any doubt that there is nothing that can truly resist our power.  I say this not just to remind you, but also to write it out for myself so that I never forget.  And when I'm racing this Sunday, I will remember every subfreezing degree, 12k, wake, and frickin’ legs-only-make-my-back-hurt workout that is fueling the burning desire to destroy boats that would resist me.  With that, I now begin my physics homework, which is presenting considerable resistance... but it's still futile.”
-Vesty Black, Class of 2005

"There are none in this world who can understand the glory of crew except those who have done it. There is something unimaginable in the sport of rowing - it cannot be described, it cannot be taught, it must be explored through experience. There is something about gliding quietly across the water at five in the morning that subconsciously satisfies the very depths of the soul. Peace is found during morning practice, shared only with eight other teammates, the rising sun, and the silence. There is something about the repetition of the stroke; catch, pull through, release - that exposes the mind to a higher level of placidity found nowhere else.

There is something about pushing yourself farther than you can go, until you feel ready to collapse, and then pulling that last five hundred harder than any before. There is something cleansing to the being in all the sweat and tears and blood that pour out over the course of a season. Nowhere else can such a rollercoaster of emotions be felt; adrenaline at the start, exhilaration during the sprint, fear at the necessity of another PR, sadness at the loss of oarsmen, frustration at every obstacle that rears itself. In no other sport is such a chaotic control present. Quick hands, quick body, slow slide; all eight oars in at perfect time.

In no other sport is the word TEAM so meaningful as in crew. Together in a shell, eight oars and eight sliding seats act as bindings - stroke to seven, seven to six, six to five... all the way to the bow. One rower's demon haunts the entire boat; perfection in one oarsman means nothing. A set boat and solid row is achieved solely when eight minds think identically, eight bodies melt together to form one machine.

One mistake can cost a race; one stray thought from the goal can cause a dream to die. Yet somehow, the end is always reached, the destination is always found, only to become a challenge again the next day. Never are you the best; never are you the worst. We are all floating somewhere in the middle, fighting to take the number one slot at any given time.

You see, it's not about winning or losing. It's about competition with yourself - going out there to do your very best, to give it your all, to have nothing left. It's about supporting your teammates, pulling for them when you have all but lost faith in yourself. Crew is a sport that demands all of these things. It is not a sport of fame; it is not a sport of popularity. Rowing is above all that. Rowing is a sport of purity and strength, constantly made better by you and I."