The Day After

Greetings, Gentle Reader,

I don't know if anyone is still reading...but it's The Day After, and I feel an obligation to check in to say thank you!

If I were to report to you simply as an oarsman about how he did in his quest to cover 75 miles in a day, this would be a dismal report indeed. With Peg's help I put in at the Science Center at 4:45 am...enjoyed six hours of blissful calm until the Harbor came to life on a perfect Saturday...and then had to face the mid-day music (cacophony?) of choppy waves, squirrely wind, dense traffic, and oppressive heat. Or...should I confess to the additional - and more relevant - fact that this lump of clay was simply not up to a 75 mile day?

The stats are that I fit in a 41.6 mile day before calling it quits at 3pm, knocked back 5 big bottles of Gatorade and a Royal Farms roast beef wrap along the way, and today I am only nursing some blisters and a tad of posterior discomfort. But the GOOD news is that everyone ashore seemed to have a great time; some wonderful pups were adopted by equally wonderful people, many came to be more aware of the fabulous work done by Sally Anne Jennings and Recycled Love, our many sponsors were able to spread the word of their support of pets and caregivers and, after all, this is what the day was supposed to be about. The bean counters are still tallying the sums raised over the course of the day, but the net of it is that some money was raised, vital information was shared, and I'd call that a good day indeed!

I seemed to have missed a good day ashore; each time I rowed by, I'd be greeted by a chorus of cheers which did much to buoy my spirits. Neighborly passers-by shared beverages and thumbs-ups, and from 5am-7am I adopted a wing man named Brian who rowed with me in his elegant boat out to Vane Brothers and back before sunrise. The morning hours were sublime - flat calm, a silent city-scape, and as the hours went by I could sense the city coming alive.

I must say that there is a big psychological difference between rowing for distance, as I did yesterday, and rowing to a specific destination, as I did last summer during The Big Row. The "destination" presents the prospect of an "arrival" and the enormous advantage of varied scenery along the way. Racking up 41 miles in a waterway two miles in length doesn't carry quite the motivational quality or variety that a true destination does, but there is really only one answer as to why I lagged on my distance: fatigue. I looked at my Big Row logbook from last summer, curious to recall my first day's distance. The answer? 50 miles. Yet I well remember being aided that day by the push of the Hudson River, a strong and perfectly oriented tailwind in the afternoon, and the euphoria of being "off" at last on a major journey. Those virtues had to be good for an extra 10 miles. Oh, and I remember some quarter-sized blisters and the posterior discomfort at the end of that day, too!

This is not to say that doing donuts in the Inner Harbor is not without its own particular delights. Rowing past Domino sugar is an olfactory treat...as is the stretch in front of Fells Point. The folks lounging along Tide Point are Big and Enthusiastic Wavers; it's always hard to wave back when you're rowing because you have to stop your cadence as you lift a hand from an oar, but I hope they found me friendly enough. The Water Taxis, once they seemed to sense that I would be a permanent fixture in their day, were also a cordial and courteous lot. Gliding past the various marina docks is like attending a private boat show. I envy those who can call the water their home, at least on a day like Saturday. I suspect that if I were to glide past on a blustery February afternoon, my envy might wane a bit.

All in all, my day confirmed that we live in a pretty special place, blessed with natural beauty and great people.

To all of you who volunteered, came by to play, or encouraged me from afar, thank you. We did some good this weekend, for creatures and for the people who love them, and that makes for a pretty nice weekend. We'll have to do it again sometime...or at least something like it. The Proverbial Suggestion Box is open!

Latah!!

Mr. Frei