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Riding to Phoenix + Regatta Report

Regatta Today: up painfully early. Brand-new buildings line the south shore of the lake, bringing back recollections of watching the activity of a construction crane in an enormous hole throughout a prior Desert Sprints Regatta. The place where Gentle Strength Co-op once stood is still an empty, gravel-filled lot.

I traded out the announcer's microphone so I could hop in a single for at least one race. The race itself wasn't completely satisfying, even though my time was a good 20 seconds faster than what I've managed at the BAP. Wind and current helped, but those tricksome sideways wakes that stayed with me all the way down the course did not. I should have gone back to the Hudson, just to practice the transition between different kinds of rowing shells.

K is doing some rowing again.

The funny thing about the announcer's job is how utterly exhausting it gets to pay attention after 10 hours. But I know people find it useful, so I'll come back next year to help out again.


Tomorrow morning I aim to ride the borrowed bicycle to Phoenix. As much as I hate the crossings, I miss the Grand Canal, and that sense of traveling along a strangely porous alternate trajectory through the city. The act of Going to Phoenix has so many associations and memories attached to it, and I want the thinking time and gentle effort of pedaling there.

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October 2018


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