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
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Monday, June 11, 2007
Location of the Row for Rescue
You will find the Row for Rescue activities centered on the Kaufman Pavilion, which is slightly east of the Science Center on Rash Field in Baltimore's Inner Harbor. There are parking meters along Key Highway and behind the Visionary Art Museum.
Parking can also be found at:
402 Key Highway
Sunday, June 3, 2007
On the Water
Greetings, Gentle Reader,
As this title suggests, I got on the water this weekend, although the outing hardly meets the criteria of a "training" row. When you bring Peg, a cooler, and some Thai food, it's clear that "time and distance" are not the drivers.
But it was nice to get out to see how everything was working. The boat and mechanicals were fine, but the shoulder soreness this morning after only an eight mile-or-so jaunt suggest that there is still much to do to prepare the propulsive unit. I was also struck by the expanse of new dockage that has appeared in the Inner Harbor over the winter; the new piers are in, and while they promise to bring even more life into our vibrant home waters, they sure do restrict the traffic to an increasingly confined space. I plan to push off at 5AM on the 16th, and I'll have to use that time to rack up some miles before the weekend armada sallies forth.
Peg & I carried aboard our invitations to Vane Brothers' Saturday evening christening of their new tug and a 400+ foot oil barge. We had hoped to arrive by water, but by the time we passed Fort McHenry, the wind on the nose had stiffened and a nasty chop slowed us to less than 2 mph. Discretion...and our own copious supply of Merlot...won out, and we used the wind and waves to return to the Science Center at a liesurly pace. From a distance we were able to see the party we missed; much celebration and a fireboat's curtain of water hinted at the revelry up at Vane Brother's. Great folks...sorry we came up short!
Planning for the 16th proceeds apace, to the point where my row will quite probably be a sideshow of minor proportions. Our organizational meetings at Sally Anne's are evocative of the early scene in Rocky I. Remember, Gentle Reader, when Appollo Creed sits in his plush office with his business managers, talking about PR opportunites, drinking coffee and eating danish, while Rocky beats on the slab of meat in the warehouse? I sit at these meetings drinking coffee and nibbling on quiche, knowing that my opponents - the Harbor, the calendar, and my own aging frame - have no intention of waiting. At least I know I am in for a test; Appollo was clueless. So yes, if you are walking the Harbor you are likely to see a few more training rows before the 16th and my huffing bulk in the gym as well. I'll be ready.
To the gathering army of volunteers...thank you! This promises to be a fun day, and we'll do some good, too.
Woof!
Al
As this title suggests, I got on the water this weekend, although the outing hardly meets the criteria of a "training" row. When you bring Peg, a cooler, and some Thai food, it's clear that "time and distance" are not the drivers.
But it was nice to get out to see how everything was working. The boat and mechanicals were fine, but the shoulder soreness this morning after only an eight mile-or-so jaunt suggest that there is still much to do to prepare the propulsive unit. I was also struck by the expanse of new dockage that has appeared in the Inner Harbor over the winter; the new piers are in, and while they promise to bring even more life into our vibrant home waters, they sure do restrict the traffic to an increasingly confined space. I plan to push off at 5AM on the 16th, and I'll have to use that time to rack up some miles before the weekend armada sallies forth.
Peg & I carried aboard our invitations to Vane Brothers' Saturday evening christening of their new tug and a 400+ foot oil barge. We had hoped to arrive by water, but by the time we passed Fort McHenry, the wind on the nose had stiffened and a nasty chop slowed us to less than 2 mph. Discretion...and our own copious supply of Merlot...won out, and we used the wind and waves to return to the Science Center at a liesurly pace. From a distance we were able to see the party we missed; much celebration and a fireboat's curtain of water hinted at the revelry up at Vane Brother's. Great folks...sorry we came up short!
Planning for the 16th proceeds apace, to the point where my row will quite probably be a sideshow of minor proportions. Our organizational meetings at Sally Anne's are evocative of the early scene in Rocky I. Remember, Gentle Reader, when Appollo Creed sits in his plush office with his business managers, talking about PR opportunites, drinking coffee and eating danish, while Rocky beats on the slab of meat in the warehouse? I sit at these meetings drinking coffee and nibbling on quiche, knowing that my opponents - the Harbor, the calendar, and my own aging frame - have no intention of waiting. At least I know I am in for a test; Appollo was clueless. So yes, if you are walking the Harbor you are likely to see a few more training rows before the 16th and my huffing bulk in the gym as well. I'll be ready.
To the gathering army of volunteers...thank you! This promises to be a fun day, and we'll do some good, too.
Woof!
Al
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Dog Days a 'Comin
Greetings, Gentle Reader,
Less than a month to go, and this is only the third entry?? Sheeesh. I'd better do a better job as a rower on the 16th than I'm doing as a blogger. I could tell you that the final two weeks of school make a teacher's life pretty full, but then I could also tell you that my Hollywood script has needed revision and the trips to and from LA have tied me up. You pick.
Happily, in my electronic absence, the Creature People's machinery continues to turn, and the plans for June 16th are coming together nicely. The Pavillion at Rash Field is secured, a wide array of pet-oriented interests are going to be there, and a perfect sunny day has been ordered up.
To paraphrase Bonnie Raitt, it will be something to bark about.
Among the "creature people" is one Tom Ingegno, an acupuncture practitioner who will be talking about (and, I suspect, demonstrating) the curative effect of his craft on pets...and yes, me. He has been kind enough to offer his services to better prepare me for my ordeal, and I plan to take him up on the offer. It will be a new experience; my son is a certified massage therapist, and I have seen him work his magic on creatures as well. At this point in my preparation, I'll take every laying on of hands I can get if the experience promises a bit more endurance. Tom, I'll be calling you soon. 75 miles will be a killer, I think; there is simply no other way to do it than to get on the water and row, and there is far too much dust on the boat right now. My high school football coach used to say, "Seniors play with pain," and I guess I will, too, now that I am a bit more senior than I was in 1969.
What has been truly motivational, however, has been the buzz among the pets themselves. We have two Recycled Love creatures in residence, Corey and Luke. Corey, a Bichon, has been with us since 1999. How a Bichon can find it's way to death's door is beyond me, but he was, and Peg, courtesy of Sally Anne Jennings, rescued a little gem. Luke has been with us since Thanksgiving. His story would take a couple bottles of saucy Merlot and a full evening to recount, but let's just say that on the sociability scale, Corey is Dom DeLuise and Luke is...well...Don Rickles with an edge. He has a...how you say....an attitude?....which, as Nerissa says in The Merchant of Venice, "makes for an unquiet house." They were talking quietly in the kitchen the other night after dinner, and while I hate an eavesdropper, I took a few notes with the thought that you'd like to hear how the clients of Row for Rescue are responding to this initiative:
Corey: Yo, Luke.
Luke: What, Corey, what.
Corey: Yo, Luke. Wassup?
Luke: "Wasssup"? "Wassup"?? Stop it, Corey. Just stop. You are a Bichon. That's
B-I-C-H-O-N. You are a little fluffy white dog. You do not say "Wassup" with cred. It
just makes you look bad.
Corey: Yo, Luke.
Luke: Stop.
Corey: Yo, Luke.
Luke:
Corey: Yo, Luke. Heard about Row for Rescue? It's on the DL right now, but it's comin'. It'll be a
freight-train o' fun , fer sure. Big time. The wheels are turnin'.
Ed note: Happily, at this point their sparkling banter finally turns to the topic at hand.
Luke: Row for Rescue? Whadd'ya talking about?
Corey: Roots, man. It's about roots and family and taking care of those who cannot take care of
themselves and finding love through giving back.
Luke: Holy Mailman, Corey, back off on the Iams, will ya? What are you talking about?
Corey: Do you remember where you came from?
Luke: I came in from the living room for dinner.
Corey: You are tediously literal, man. Tediously. I mean, where did you come from? Before
that?
Luke: I was upstairs sleeping. I came down hoping to take a pee before dinner.
Corey: OK, OK, but before that?
Luke: What's with the Twenty Questions? I was in the bedroom, if you must know, alternately
chewing on my binkey-boo and cleansing myself.
Corey: I'm tellin' ya, you gotta go easy on that binkey-boo, Luke. And there's far too much
"cleansing" going on up there. It's wiggin' me out. But what about before that, Luke?
Ed note: Some opine that dogs have no sense of the passage of time...that, to them, an hour is a minute and long-term memory is so comingled with the present that their capacity for nostalgia and cosmic reflection is, in human terms, underdeveloped. It is not my place to confirm or refute this hypothsis. I will only tell you that Corey and Luke have profoundly differet sensibilities about the time, and for the sake of brevity I will fast-forward three hours, through Corey's patient yet relentless interrogation, and pick up the dialogue from there....
Luke: So what you're saying is that on the 16th, kind-hearted people from around the city will
be gathering at Rash Field to celebrate our continued existence and the salvation of so
many like us? And, in doing so, they will in effect be celebrating their own humanity?
Corey: That's wassup.
Luke: Stop it, Corey. Just stop it.
Gentle Reader, this transcript is just the tip of the iceberg. Similar canine conversations are taking place all across Charm City.
Stay tuned for more.
Less than a month to go, and this is only the third entry?? Sheeesh. I'd better do a better job as a rower on the 16th than I'm doing as a blogger. I could tell you that the final two weeks of school make a teacher's life pretty full, but then I could also tell you that my Hollywood script has needed revision and the trips to and from LA have tied me up. You pick.
Happily, in my electronic absence, the Creature People's machinery continues to turn, and the plans for June 16th are coming together nicely. The Pavillion at Rash Field is secured, a wide array of pet-oriented interests are going to be there, and a perfect sunny day has been ordered up.
To paraphrase Bonnie Raitt, it will be something to bark about.
Among the "creature people" is one Tom Ingegno, an acupuncture practitioner who will be talking about (and, I suspect, demonstrating) the curative effect of his craft on pets...and yes, me. He has been kind enough to offer his services to better prepare me for my ordeal, and I plan to take him up on the offer. It will be a new experience; my son is a certified massage therapist, and I have seen him work his magic on creatures as well. At this point in my preparation, I'll take every laying on of hands I can get if the experience promises a bit more endurance. Tom, I'll be calling you soon. 75 miles will be a killer, I think; there is simply no other way to do it than to get on the water and row, and there is far too much dust on the boat right now. My high school football coach used to say, "Seniors play with pain," and I guess I will, too, now that I am a bit more senior than I was in 1969.
What has been truly motivational, however, has been the buzz among the pets themselves. We have two Recycled Love creatures in residence, Corey and Luke. Corey, a Bichon, has been with us since 1999. How a Bichon can find it's way to death's door is beyond me, but he was, and Peg, courtesy of Sally Anne Jennings, rescued a little gem. Luke has been with us since Thanksgiving. His story would take a couple bottles of saucy Merlot and a full evening to recount, but let's just say that on the sociability scale, Corey is Dom DeLuise and Luke is...well...Don Rickles with an edge. He has a...how you say....an attitude?....which, as Nerissa says in The Merchant of Venice, "makes for an unquiet house." They were talking quietly in the kitchen the other night after dinner, and while I hate an eavesdropper, I took a few notes with the thought that you'd like to hear how the clients of Row for Rescue are responding to this initiative:
Corey: Yo, Luke.
Luke: What, Corey, what.
Corey: Yo, Luke. Wassup?
Luke: "Wasssup"? "Wassup"?? Stop it, Corey. Just stop. You are a Bichon. That's
B-I-C-H-O-N. You are a little fluffy white dog. You do not say "Wassup" with cred. It
just makes you look bad.
Corey: Yo, Luke.
Luke: Stop.
Corey: Yo, Luke.
Luke:
Corey: Yo, Luke. Heard about Row for Rescue? It's on the DL right now, but it's comin'. It'll be a
freight-train o' fun , fer sure. Big time. The wheels are turnin'.
Ed note: Happily, at this point their sparkling banter finally turns to the topic at hand.
Luke: Row for Rescue? Whadd'ya talking about?
Corey: Roots, man. It's about roots and family and taking care of those who cannot take care of
themselves and finding love through giving back.
Luke: Holy Mailman, Corey, back off on the Iams, will ya? What are you talking about?
Corey: Do you remember where you came from?
Luke: I came in from the living room for dinner.
Corey: You are tediously literal, man. Tediously. I mean, where did you come from? Before
that?
Luke: I was upstairs sleeping. I came down hoping to take a pee before dinner.
Corey: OK, OK, but before that?
Luke: What's with the Twenty Questions? I was in the bedroom, if you must know, alternately
chewing on my binkey-boo and cleansing myself.
Corey: I'm tellin' ya, you gotta go easy on that binkey-boo, Luke. And there's far too much
"cleansing" going on up there. It's wiggin' me out. But what about before that, Luke?
Ed note: Some opine that dogs have no sense of the passage of time...that, to them, an hour is a minute and long-term memory is so comingled with the present that their capacity for nostalgia and cosmic reflection is, in human terms, underdeveloped. It is not my place to confirm or refute this hypothsis. I will only tell you that Corey and Luke have profoundly differet sensibilities about the time, and for the sake of brevity I will fast-forward three hours, through Corey's patient yet relentless interrogation, and pick up the dialogue from there....
Luke: So what you're saying is that on the 16th, kind-hearted people from around the city will
be gathering at Rash Field to celebrate our continued existence and the salvation of so
many like us? And, in doing so, they will in effect be celebrating their own humanity?
Corey: That's wassup.
Luke: Stop it, Corey. Just stop it.
Gentle Reader, this transcript is just the tip of the iceberg. Similar canine conversations are taking place all across Charm City.
Stay tuned for more.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Serious Training Begins
Al can begin his training outside the gym, since he has now retrieved the guideboat from it's winter abode in balmy Virginia.
Saturday, April 28, 2007
The Machinery is Turning...
Greetings, Gentle Reader.
I'm just back from the gym, trying to square away the back problem and reawaken muscles that have been dormant since August 17. The back is coming together nicely; the muscles, such as they are, are sound sleepers. This will take some doing.
Say what you will about last year's Big Row...it was done on a shoestring. Peg ran logistics (onion rings in Jersey City, and some TLC in The Garden State), Kathy ran Communications (and shared the onion rings)...and I rowed. Oh...and you pledged.
Gentle Reader, last Wednesday night I learned what happens when The Creature Rescue Community mobilizes to make something happen. In an informal gathering intended to plan the day (Jue 16) by the water, ideas flowed as freely as the Merlot and within an hour, "A Happening"...one destined to be viewed from space...materialized. These Creature People, as I shall call them today, are folks of boundless enthusiasm and enormous creativity. Indeed, as I listened to the ideas flow, I pictured a delightful day at the Inner Harbor where my rowing may well be an afterthought. That's OK, I assured them; if I row past the Pavillion and am met by hundreds of people with their backs to me, I'll know that the day is a success and that at least someone is having a great time. Among the events planned....
We'll experience Flyball , otherwise known as "drag racing for dogs." More on this later - I think Kathy will create a link - but the brochure I saw promises dogs careening through a closed course at breakneck speeds in friendly competition, tongues flapping in the breeze, smiles from ear-to-ear...not unlike the 7th and 8th graders I coach in lacrosse.
We'll have a pet psychic - a "pet communicator," I think it is called (again, more details to come)- able, I suspect, to divine your pet's past and contemplative thoughts. Peg and I are anticipating learning more about our recently-adopted Luke's checkered past. As Ricky used to say to Lucy, he's "got some 'splainin' to do."
There will be pet-oriented displays, consessions, victuals and costumes for the creatures, free coffee (for those of you sporting your natty "Row for Rescue" mugs), as well as information on Recycled Love and the good work they do.
All-in-all, the day promises to be a veritable love-fest for (and of) man and beast, taking place at Rash Field and the Hoffman Pavillion, right along the Inner Harbor. It sounds like fun, even though I'll be seeing it only every 45 minutes or so as I row past.
As I listened to the creative, dedicated Creature People bring together a plan for June 16, I quiety contemplated (between my own Merlots and Sally's cheesy-poofy hors-d'ouvre thing-ies) my own role in the day's events. 75 miles in a day is 13 miles further than my "personal best" in my guideboat. THAT day last August was a killer...up half of the Delaware River (mosty crosswind) and through most of the C&D Canal to a blissful collapse on a dock at midnight. Whatever bullishness I feel about 75 miles on 6/16 assumes that the Inner Harbor route will most likely be calmer, Yoo Hoo will be readily at hand, the pups and Creature People (and maybe you?) will be cheering me on, and (hopefully) I can anticipate better lodgings than a dock at the end of the day's trial.
To that end, I'll be on the water for the first time next weekend. As coaches extraordinaire Bob and Bean Tarrant have told me, "The only way to really get ready for a challenge such as this is to row," and row I will. The big worry is the hands. I had 13 days to administer Secret Sauce and illicit balms to my hands during The Big Row; 6/16 is a one-shot outing, and I'd not like to be rowing with my forearms by Hour 8. In the coming weeks if you see a guy walking the streets of Federal Hill massaging a stick, don't be alarmed: it's just me. Gentle Reader, as I re-read that line, its not a pretty picture.
That's it for now. Just know that The Creature People are on the case, it promises to be a delightful day, and I'll be out there on the water, Rowing for Rescue. In the meantime, check out the Recycled Love site (and other supporting entities as they arrive), pet a pup, and pledge, won't you?
Woof! (And a winsome "meow" for you cat lovers.)
Mr. Frei
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