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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
