My Last 2k Prep Ever

It's St. Patrick's Day 2011 and many of my fellow students at the University of Michigan are out getting their Thursday night drank on right now.  Meanwhile, I'm sitting in bed with my laptop, watching some March Madness basketball online (so far I'm 9/12 on my bracket picks with the Louisville being my biggest bracket-buster), and contemplating my last 2,000 meter ergometer test.  That's right--by tomorrow at 5:00 I will have completed my last erg 2k ever.

Once it's all over, I'm sure I'll have mixed feelings about it.  Sure, most of those feelings will be of euphoric relief because the test will have been finished, and I will never have to re-live that pain ever again.  But maybe .1% of me will be a little sad because it will officially mean that a meaningful chapter in my life is coming to an end.  These last four years I've been dreading, then taking, 2k erg tests alongside so many other hard-working women with whom I've experienced this journey.  My last erg 2k will really resonate the message that I'm nearly done with this journey.  And that does sadden me.

But mostly, I'll just be relieved--because 2ks really suck.

It's not just the test itself, it's also the 24 or so hours leading up to it.  During the week I can usually avoid obsessing or stressing out about an upcoming erg test, but once I come to 2k-eve night my mind is a jumbled mess.  I spend the entire night obsessing about my goal pace, about whether or not I will "die" at one of my least favorite points in the race (the 1300 to go and the 800 to go--I now take power 10s at both of these points in order to try and fight my fear), and basically about the immense, total pain I will be experiencing for a little over 7 minutes of my life.

I have learned to at least get something positive out of this obsession, and so I always visualize my 2ks the night before.  This activity actually helps me, strangely enough.  If I can visualize myself pulling those splits and executing my plan, I truly believe I can do it the next day.  During the test I actually think "Just like how you visualized it now..." as weird as that may seem.

Still, during this 24-hour pre-2k period, all of these semi-suicidal thoughts creep into my mind.  Like, I'll be crossing a street and think "What if I just threw myself in front of a slow-moving vehicle?  Maybe just enough to sprain my wrist or something--at least then I wouldn't have to take this 2k!"  or I'll be eating dinner and think "What if I got food poisoning from this?  That would be awesome!"  or I'll be doing my "row-out" on the erg that morning and think "What if I got a rib injury right now?"  then I'll take a stroke and think "Maybe on this one..."

But really, it's not THAT bad; or at least, not bad enough to warrant such crazy thoughts.  Honestly, sometimes I think the warm-up is the worst part.  For one thing, our 2k warm-up is actually pretty taxing.  It's about 20 minutes long and features what I (and many others) like to call "1k of death" (aka 2k pace + 7 for 1000 meters...pretty trivial in reality, pretty hard when you're doing it 500m into a warm-up).  This 1k piece is great for mentally psyching yourself out, too. "Wait, that was really hard.  And it was 7 seconds slower than what I have to pull my 2k!  And it was HALF as long!  I'M SO FUCKED!!!!"  That only gets worse when you take the 10s and 15s later at 2k pace.  "Wait...I have to do that same thing for 200 more strokes?!  I AM GOING TO DIE."  As if this warm-up wasn't bad enough on its own, the entire time I'm pulling it, 10 of my teammates are taking their actual tests.  Meaning the erg room is filled with the continuous shouting of coaches and coxswains.   This becomes absolutely unbearable when the rowers get into that infamous last 500 and the only thing I can hear is a mass of eardrum-bursting noise.  As if I weren't nervous enough, the shouting is enough to make me want to die.  During that warm-up, I get so nervous that I am literally shaking the entire time.

So when I hop on the test erg to finally take my 2k I almost feel relieved.  A "let's just get this over with" type of feeling comes over me, and the adrenaline finally starts pumping.  I check my drag, set the distance to 2000 meters (with 200m subintervals of course), slap my thigh muscles a few times as if to say "It's all up to you now", grab the erg handle, take a deep breath and--"Attention.  Row!"

Looking forward to 5 PM tomorrow,

Lauren