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Sunday, April 30, 2006
Gotta Start....
It's Sunday night, Gentle Reader...and tomorrow is May 1. It's time I started to get into training.
Sure, up to now I've talked a good game, but the truth is that by the time I get home after my day with my students, I'm pretty bushed. I almost always find something less intense than training to see my way to bedtime; grading papers, rearranging the sock drawer, reading, waiting for Brian's next snow report from Mamouth... May 5th marks three months until the launch and, frankly, I've been tempted to buy into the notion that some supporters have offered - that I will get in shape 'on the way' to Baltimore. Now. I'm a glass-is-half-full kind of guy, but even I can see the fallacy of this notion. It's akin to training for a Tyson fight thinking that if you make it to the third round, you'll find your rhythm.
Mike wouldn't wait that long, nor will my itinerary. So "starting tomorrow...."
My students and I are currently reading "The Merchant of Venice," and I am reminded of Portia's lament to her maidservant, Nerissa, as she says, "If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels would be churches, and poor mens' cottages princes' palaces." Of course, the eighth grade translation is, "Easier said than done." I know I have to start; it's just hard getting started.
On a more upbeat note, tonight I took delivery of the "I'm Pulling With Mr. Frei" buttons, and tomorrow begins the distribution to those who have already pledged. Be patient, Generous Donors. To use another MOV quote (this time Jessica to her fiance, Lorenzo), "It will be worth the pains." The buttons, pictured elsewhere on this site, show a silhouette of yours truly against an ethereal backdrop under the "I'm Pulling for Mr. Frei" copy, which is rendered in a pudgy typeface evocative of my present physical condition. Nonetheless, for a few pennies per mile, you're in. If you'd like to confirm your pledge and can't see another means of doing so on the site, just email me at alfrei@earthlink.net and I'll log you into my "book."
Today I drove over the Severn River bridge on my way to/from Annapolis. While the Severn is south of my intended route (unless I'm feeling saucy on August 25 or so, and want to keep going), I'm struck by how I now look at bodies of water with the question, "How's the water for rowing?" As I slowed on the bridge, I saw that it was perfect: a gentle northerly breeze, a very moderate chop, brilliant sunshine. It was so nice, in fact, that I only returned from my reverie when jarred by the horn, flashing lights, and massive grill of the Lincoln Navigator seemingly in the back seat of my Mini. Sheesh. It's not like I was on a cell phone or something, or practicing the mandolin. But that's another story.
For another time.
Tomorrow, I train. Honest.
Sure, up to now I've talked a good game, but the truth is that by the time I get home after my day with my students, I'm pretty bushed. I almost always find something less intense than training to see my way to bedtime; grading papers, rearranging the sock drawer, reading, waiting for Brian's next snow report from Mamouth... May 5th marks three months until the launch and, frankly, I've been tempted to buy into the notion that some supporters have offered - that I will get in shape 'on the way' to Baltimore. Now. I'm a glass-is-half-full kind of guy, but even I can see the fallacy of this notion. It's akin to training for a Tyson fight thinking that if you make it to the third round, you'll find your rhythm.
Mike wouldn't wait that long, nor will my itinerary. So "starting tomorrow...."
My students and I are currently reading "The Merchant of Venice," and I am reminded of Portia's lament to her maidservant, Nerissa, as she says, "If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels would be churches, and poor mens' cottages princes' palaces." Of course, the eighth grade translation is, "Easier said than done." I know I have to start; it's just hard getting started.
On a more upbeat note, tonight I took delivery of the "I'm Pulling With Mr. Frei" buttons, and tomorrow begins the distribution to those who have already pledged. Be patient, Generous Donors. To use another MOV quote (this time Jessica to her fiance, Lorenzo), "It will be worth the pains." The buttons, pictured elsewhere on this site, show a silhouette of yours truly against an ethereal backdrop under the "I'm Pulling for Mr. Frei" copy, which is rendered in a pudgy typeface evocative of my present physical condition. Nonetheless, for a few pennies per mile, you're in. If you'd like to confirm your pledge and can't see another means of doing so on the site, just email me at alfrei@earthlink.net and I'll log you into my "book."
Today I drove over the Severn River bridge on my way to/from Annapolis. While the Severn is south of my intended route (unless I'm feeling saucy on August 25 or so, and want to keep going), I'm struck by how I now look at bodies of water with the question, "How's the water for rowing?" As I slowed on the bridge, I saw that it was perfect: a gentle northerly breeze, a very moderate chop, brilliant sunshine. It was so nice, in fact, that I only returned from my reverie when jarred by the horn, flashing lights, and massive grill of the Lincoln Navigator seemingly in the back seat of my Mini. Sheesh. It's not like I was on a cell phone or something, or practicing the mandolin. But that's another story.
For another time.
Tomorrow, I train. Honest.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Charts & Maps
Greetings, Gentle Reader.
To paraphrase MC Hammer, "It's Blog-entry Time."
Yes, as you can see, the "I'm Pulling With Mr. Frei" buttons are in. Good news indeed...yet perhaps not as exciting as the fact that without much of a push (or buttons of gratitude), generous donors have already pledged enough for a $2,015 donation to the Boys' Latin Financial Aid bucket - provided, of course, that I make it to Baltimore. Thank you, one and all! You will be receiving your natty buttons in a couple of weeks. Can tote bags be far behind?
It occurs to me that even though raising money was truly an afterthought in the conception of this trip, I nevertheless could have "The Big One" right off the Troy dock, ride the eddies of the Hudson, and hit Ellis Island 155 miles - if many days - later, thereby raising funds posthumously. Cool.
This was a momentous week for planning. I set out to procure charts adequate for the task of strategizing the trip. The Lil' Magellan in me had thought that if I just kept the ocean to my right and land to my left after I hit New York City (remember, I'm rowing, facing backwards), all would be well; I would then simply have to stay vigilant after two weeks or so to the approching Charm City skyline, then, badda bing badda boom, champagne.
Not so. My initial planning has been done using a Best Western Road Atlas and a ruler...fine for rough distances and dreaming, not helpful for reality checks. An initial perusal of my new nautical charts reveals two particularly challenging stretches. First, after getting past NY Harbor, there's a 30 mile-or-so unprotected stretch of Jersey Shore to contend with before I can get "inside" on the Intercoastal Waterway. With calm, or pushed by a gentle NE breeze, it might be a cakewalk. Any other conditions will present challenges that will likely compel me to wait it out. In Jersey.
The other daunting body of water looks to be the Delaware Bay; it took up the whole kitchen table, so imagine how big it will look in real life. I've got a 70 mile up-current pull from Cape May to the Chesapeake Canal. The weather will be a real driver on this leg as well, and a delay will camp me out amid Jersey's storied chemical plants, a bucolic nuclear facility, and a paucity of options. Hey, it's for the kids.
Yet by the time I get to the Delaware Bay, my guess is that the callouses will be cauterized, my posterior anesthetized, my brain deep fried...and the pull of being so close to home will be strong.
So I've rolled the charts up for now, or at least until my workout regimen gives me more cause for confidence. Laying them all out at once is a sobering vision, and I may well be psychologically better off if I approach this thing, for now, as a series of delightful, sun-drenched day-trips.
Right.
Thanks to those of you who have pledged. Your pins will be on the way soon (as soon as I can get to Kathy's, in Virginia, to pick them up). To those of you who are signing on late and wonder what the sam hill this is about, scroll down to the first blog and catch up.
Ketchup. Yes. It's dinner time.
Latah!
Mr. Frei
To paraphrase MC Hammer, "It's Blog-entry Time."
Yes, as you can see, the "I'm Pulling With Mr. Frei" buttons are in. Good news indeed...yet perhaps not as exciting as the fact that without much of a push (or buttons of gratitude), generous donors have already pledged enough for a $2,015 donation to the Boys' Latin Financial Aid bucket - provided, of course, that I make it to Baltimore. Thank you, one and all! You will be receiving your natty buttons in a couple of weeks. Can tote bags be far behind?
It occurs to me that even though raising money was truly an afterthought in the conception of this trip, I nevertheless could have "The Big One" right off the Troy dock, ride the eddies of the Hudson, and hit Ellis Island 155 miles - if many days - later, thereby raising funds posthumously. Cool.
This was a momentous week for planning. I set out to procure charts adequate for the task of strategizing the trip. The Lil' Magellan in me had thought that if I just kept the ocean to my right and land to my left after I hit New York City (remember, I'm rowing, facing backwards), all would be well; I would then simply have to stay vigilant after two weeks or so to the approching Charm City skyline, then, badda bing badda boom, champagne.
Not so. My initial planning has been done using a Best Western Road Atlas and a ruler...fine for rough distances and dreaming, not helpful for reality checks. An initial perusal of my new nautical charts reveals two particularly challenging stretches. First, after getting past NY Harbor, there's a 30 mile-or-so unprotected stretch of Jersey Shore to contend with before I can get "inside" on the Intercoastal Waterway. With calm, or pushed by a gentle NE breeze, it might be a cakewalk. Any other conditions will present challenges that will likely compel me to wait it out. In Jersey.
The other daunting body of water looks to be the Delaware Bay; it took up the whole kitchen table, so imagine how big it will look in real life. I've got a 70 mile up-current pull from Cape May to the Chesapeake Canal. The weather will be a real driver on this leg as well, and a delay will camp me out amid Jersey's storied chemical plants, a bucolic nuclear facility, and a paucity of options. Hey, it's for the kids.
Yet by the time I get to the Delaware Bay, my guess is that the callouses will be cauterized, my posterior anesthetized, my brain deep fried...and the pull of being so close to home will be strong.
So I've rolled the charts up for now, or at least until my workout regimen gives me more cause for confidence. Laying them all out at once is a sobering vision, and I may well be psychologically better off if I approach this thing, for now, as a series of delightful, sun-drenched day-trips.
Right.
Thanks to those of you who have pledged. Your pins will be on the way soon (as soon as I can get to Kathy's, in Virginia, to pick them up). To those of you who are signing on late and wonder what the sam hill this is about, scroll down to the first blog and catch up.
Ketchup. Yes. It's dinner time.
Latah!
Mr. Frei
Saturday, April 22, 2006
The buttons are in!
Monday, April 17, 2006
It Begins
Greetings, Gentle Reader,
When I hit "send" on my first blog, the image of Rocky knocking back his blended raw eggs on his first frigid morning of training might have subliminally flashed through my head. Nevertheless, 'it' has begun, and the day after my birthday I'll have to start something...to somewhere.
But first, Gentle Reader, an apology.
My Techno-Maven, Kathy, the most kind and capable lady who created - and yes, who frigging controls - my site, has put up some links to greater, more ambitious rows. It immediately got me to thinking, what's with this blog title, "The Big Row," anyway? A bit pretentious, I think...and so, I fear, might you.
I mean, next to the voyages of these intrepid women, my row is like a walk down to the 7-11 for a Yoo Hoo (a practice, incidentally, that will have to stop soon. After all, Rockey drank eggs, not nutritious Yoo Hoo). So please understand, no hubris here. This blog title is only appropriate when one considers the marginal capabilities of the oarsman; for me, this is indeed a big row, and I do not mean to pillory, usurp, or malign the more prodigious efforts of others. (I also cannot find the spell check function in this electronic puzzle, so let me apologize in advance for my gaffes.)
I just finished reading "Rowing to Latitude' by Jill Fredston. Jill, a (much younger) Dartmouth grad, writes of her and her husband's adventures while rowing the coastlines of virtually every land mass north of 50* latitude. To continue my lame simile, her adventures make my "big row" look like calling out for pizza. For example, I angst about wind...she worried about bear attacks. I'll try to avoid river and harbor traffic...she dodged icebergs and orcas. So enough said about the "big" in my trip. My only defense for Kathy's endearing girlish enthusiasm is that if you pulled any other slightly overweight former-bakery-executive-food-guy-now-8th-grade-English-teacher off the street and compelled him to do this, he'll likely tell you, "Why, that's a big row." That's all I'm saying. Sheeesh.
(Kathy, let's keep the blog title. We might inspire others who also sorely need the exercise.)
I did start training more earnestly last week. The fitness center around the corner has equipment which seems to pretty well stimulate the muscles I'll be destroying during my trip. Sadly, the devices are usually manned by statuesque young people who operate them effortlessly, hour after hour. I'll start going late, and I promise I'll walk by the 7-11 with resolve.
From here on out, I'll try weekly entries unless something REALLY big happens. For those of you that have signed on for an immediate kick-back on these entries, let me know if they're worthwhile.
And to those of you who have already pledged, my heartfelt thanks!!! Your "I'm Pulling With Mr. Frei" buttons should be here in 10 days; try to contain yourselves until then.
Yer fren'
Mr. Frei
When I hit "send" on my first blog, the image of Rocky knocking back his blended raw eggs on his first frigid morning of training might have subliminally flashed through my head. Nevertheless, 'it' has begun, and the day after my birthday I'll have to start something...to somewhere.
But first, Gentle Reader, an apology.
My Techno-Maven, Kathy, the most kind and capable lady who created - and yes, who frigging controls - my site, has put up some links to greater, more ambitious rows. It immediately got me to thinking, what's with this blog title, "The Big Row," anyway? A bit pretentious, I think...and so, I fear, might you.
I mean, next to the voyages of these intrepid women, my row is like a walk down to the 7-11 for a Yoo Hoo (a practice, incidentally, that will have to stop soon. After all, Rockey drank eggs, not nutritious Yoo Hoo). So please understand, no hubris here. This blog title is only appropriate when one considers the marginal capabilities of the oarsman; for me, this is indeed a big row, and I do not mean to pillory, usurp, or malign the more prodigious efforts of others. (I also cannot find the spell check function in this electronic puzzle, so let me apologize in advance for my gaffes.)
I just finished reading "Rowing to Latitude' by Jill Fredston. Jill, a (much younger) Dartmouth grad, writes of her and her husband's adventures while rowing the coastlines of virtually every land mass north of 50* latitude. To continue my lame simile, her adventures make my "big row" look like calling out for pizza. For example, I angst about wind...she worried about bear attacks. I'll try to avoid river and harbor traffic...she dodged icebergs and orcas. So enough said about the "big" in my trip. My only defense for Kathy's endearing girlish enthusiasm is that if you pulled any other slightly overweight former-bakery-executive-food-guy-now-8th-grade-English-teacher off the street and compelled him to do this, he'll likely tell you, "Why, that's a big row." That's all I'm saying. Sheeesh.
(Kathy, let's keep the blog title. We might inspire others who also sorely need the exercise.)
I did start training more earnestly last week. The fitness center around the corner has equipment which seems to pretty well stimulate the muscles I'll be destroying during my trip. Sadly, the devices are usually manned by statuesque young people who operate them effortlessly, hour after hour. I'll start going late, and I promise I'll walk by the 7-11 with resolve.
From here on out, I'll try weekly entries unless something REALLY big happens. For those of you that have signed on for an immediate kick-back on these entries, let me know if they're worthwhile.
And to those of you who have already pledged, my heartfelt thanks!!! Your "I'm Pulling With Mr. Frei" buttons should be here in 10 days; try to contain yourselves until then.
Yer fren'
Mr. Frei
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Here's The Plan
Greetings, Gentle Reader,
This is my first attempt at entering and engaging my own Blog site. Or, just "Blog"? To paraphrase Blanche in A Streetcar Named Desire, "I have always relied on the kindness of strangers" and the kindness, in this case, is offered by Kathy, who has set me up in cyber-space in a fashion beyond my understanding. To coin another classic, I once attended a wedding where the best man's toast was a succinct, "I hope it works out." It didn't...but I have confidence in Kathy's cyber accumen. So bear with me while I get my electronic bearings.
Yes, Gentle Reader, I'm going for a long row. 450 miles, more or less, to be exact. The why and how of it will, I suspect, reveal themselves as I engage in this journal. And yes, I hope to raise some money in doing it, even though that's not the reason for this escapade, but more on that later.
No, wait.
Let's get the money thing behind us right now, shall we?
Here's how it goes: I'll be asking for pledges...pennies (or dollars, if you're feeling particularly flush) per mile. Tumble the numbers and you will find that a penny a mile adds up to $4.50 in the event that I make it all the way. Two pennies, $9.00, three, $13.50...you get the idea.
And where will these derriere-killing proceeds go? Boys' Latin, where I teach and learn, faces the challenge - as do so many independent schools - of running out of financial aid resources before it runs out of committed, qualified, and needy candidates. The kids I teach are terrific, and financial aid is the magic that places and retains many of them in my classroom. I want to keep them there and, through attempting this journey, foster in them an interest in giving to others...others that they do not yet know, or may never know. So...the long and short of it is that I can think of no better cause to motivate me to row that extra mile than to help these fine fellows persue the best education that they can find and afford. That's the deal, OK? I row, you help a great kid that you may never know...but in helping him, we all are helped. Cosmic.
And...( commercial pause) all pledges will be acknowleged by your receipt of a coveted and stylish, "I'm Pulling With Mr. Frei" button. Peg and Kathy have been working on it...we're stamping metal and headed to the presses next week, and my only concern is the haunting image on the button which has me rowing - ominously? prophetically? hopefully? - to what appears to be the proverbial "Better Place." Pledge, receive the button, and you be the judge.
Making this row has been a burr under my saddle for some time now. Born in Troy, working in Baltimore...sort of a "Birthplace to Workplace" thing, even though that doesn't really sing, it's a trip that screams to be made. My vessel of choice is my Adirondack Guideboat. It's a sweetheart: stable under load, easy to sustain a 4 knot pace, a natural tent when inverted, you can read about it on the attached link that Kathy has set up. More on the boat and planned modfications later.
Without question, I'm the weak link in the plan. I'll be 55 plus a day when I depart, and I'll need to be in a state of fitness materially better than that manifested by the too-sedentary lump which faces the screen this evening. A painful future topic for the Journal, perhaps. While I've begun to address "tuning the engine," at this moment it's feeling more like a major overhaul will be in the works. It's like when the mechanic looks at you and says, "We may have to keep it here overnight." Sigh.
Yes, more on physical preparation in a future journal entries. It won't be pretty, but I promise not to include pictures...unless you pledge the big bucks, or bark like a dog.
Strangely, or perhaps delusionally, the mental prep seems to be going well. I'm not a huge believer in the "paint a positive mental image and it will happen" school of thought...if, indeed, that is "thought" at all. Yet in my mind's eye I've already rowed each leg of this trip many times, with boyish enthusiasm and a plucky spirit that bodes well for success. I don't think that at this point I'm naively enthusiastic; my longest single-day row to-date is a 58 mile day, a day which, I confess, left my posterior in a state of paralysis. A calculus of distance and time suggests that I'll have to string fifteen 30-mile days together to finish this trip in about two weeks. That's fifteen days, day after day, with no hot showers, no deep fat, no hot fudge. Nonetheless, with proper prep and training, patience, a recognition that I will most likely have some 15 mile days when the wind and/or current are on the nose and maybe some 40 + mile days when everything is jake, a dollop of luck and a bucket of Absorbine Junior, it just might be possible.
Plus, the kids. It will help some kids, remember? That'll be good for a few extra pulls each evening.
So...soon we (Kathy) will be setting up the site so that should you wish to pledge, you can. Or, you can always write to me c/o The Boys' Latin School, 822 West Lake Ave., Baltimore, MD 21210...and I'll take it from there. As I understand it, there is already a way for you to offer words of encouragement, caution, or counsel on the site..and I would love to hear from you, whoever you are.
I hope you will pop on the site periodically to see what's going on in my head. Above all, I expect this trip to be as cerebral as it will be physical, and that's the point of the journal...and maybe even the catalyst for the trip itself. After all, rowing 450 miles gives one a chance for...um...how you say....quiet time? Yes. Quiet contemplation.
So to Peg & Kathy, thanks for your help... and for your grace in keeping what must be "You're nuts!!" out of earshot.
More next week.
Love, and row....
Al
Saturday, April 08, 2006
Getting Ready
