As my high school rowing team prepares for its opening spring regatta today, I can’t help but reflect on my time with the team and everything that came with it. Rowing, sometimes known as “crew”, was a major part of nearly half of my life. I am the youngest of four sisters, and in true little-sibling fashion, I followed in their footsteps. All three of them were rowers or coxswains before me, so joining the team almost felt inevitable.
When I first joined, I was already known as “the last Butler sister.” Because of that, I felt like I had a certain standard to live up to. My older sisters had built strong reputations on the team, and one of them had even been part of a novice state championship boat. My first practice felt familiar in some ways because my big sister was only a grade above me, and I had watched her go through her novice year the season before. I already knew many of the terms and had seen how practice worked.
However, watching the sport and actually doing it were two very different things. Once I got into the boat myself, the physical strength and endurance rowing required quickly became clear. Every stroke demanded coordination, power, and focus. I also carried a bit of nervousness with me, wondering if I could live up to the legacy my sisters had left behind. Unfortunately, my own novice season was cut short when the COVID-19 pandemic ended our season early. Because of that, I never got the chance to compete for a novice championship as she did.
During my time on the team, I experienced both rowing and coxing, which gave me two very different perspectives on the sport. In many ways, the two roles go hand in hand. Crew is just as much a mental sport as it is a physical one. When you are on the water, you are constantly thinking about your form, your timing, and how the boat is moving. At the same time, you also have to be aware of the environment around you. Wind direction, water conditions, turns in the river, and other boats all play a role in how you navigate a race or practice. It required constant awareness and quick decision-making.
Practices themselves were intense but rewarding. We practiced after school from 3:30 p.m. to 6:00 p.m. Monday through Friday, with early morning practices on Saturdays from 7 a.m. to 11 a.m. Race days were full-day events, often starting before sunrise and ending well into the evening. Outside of practices, we also had team bonding days after Saturday practices or on Sundays. Spring break practices were especially memorable, with two practices a day in the early morning and the afternoon. Those long hours built not only strength but also friendships that made the entire experience worthwhile.
One of my most memorable races that happened was at regionals, my junior year. I had been recovering from an injury, and two other rowers were also enduring injuries. Throughout the season, we had struggled to find consistency, and we were not considered one of the top boats. But during that race, something clicked. We found our rhythm and trusted each other completely. Stroke by stroke, we pushed forward and ended up placing second, even beating one of our rivals. It was one of those moments when all the hard work paid off.
During my senior year, I became a co-captain of the team. It was an honor, but it also came with its challenges. Another injury at the beginning of the fall season limited how much I could physically contribute during the fall and the winter. My fellow captains stepped up when I couldn’t always be there in the same way, and that experience taught me something important about leadership. Being a leader isn’t always about doing everything yourself –sometimes it’s about trusting your teammates and leaning on them when you need support.
Looking back now, rowing taught me discipline, teamwork, and mental toughness. But it also taught me something unexpected: calmness. The water isn’t always smooth. Some days it’s rough, windy, and unpredictable. In those moments, the best thing you can do is stay calm and steady. In many ways, that lesson has stuck with me these past three years away from the boat.