Rowing in Motion (With a Twist)

Here’s an excerpt from the first chapter of The Essence of T’ai Chi Ch’uan – The Literary Tradition:

In motion
all parts of the body must be
light
nimble
and strung together.

The ch’i (breath) should be excited
the shen (spirit) should be internally gathered.

Let the postures be without
breaks or holes,
hollows or projections,
or discontinuities and continuities of form.

The motion should be rooted in the feet,
released through the legs,
controlled by the waist,
and manifested through the fingers.

The feet, legs and waist
must act together simultaneously,
so that while stepping forward or back
the timing and position are correct.

If the timing and position are not correct,
the body becomes disordered,
and the defect must be sought
in the legs and waist.

Up or down,
front or back,
left or right, are all the same.

They are all i (mind) and not external.

If there is up, there is down;
if there is forward, then there is backward;
if there is left, then there is right.

If the i (mind) wants to move up,
it contains at the same time
the downward idea.

By alternating the force
of pulling and pushing,
the root is severed
and the object is quickly toppled,
without a doubt.

Insubstantial and substantial
should be clearly differentiated.

One place
has insubstantiality and substantiality;
every place
has the same insubstantiality and substantiality.

All parts of the body are strung together
without the slightest break.

Ch’ang Ch’uan (T’ai Chi Ch’uan)
is like a great river
rolling on unceasingly.

Did that make anyone else think of rowing?

I found this poem somewhat unexpectedly while paging through my stack of books from grad school in Chinese Medicine. I had been looking for some reading on winter. See, in Five Element Theory, a diagnostic system used in Traditional Chinese Medicine, each of the five elements—Fire, Earth, Metal, Water and Wood—corresponds with categories that include the seasons (spring, summer, late summer, autumn and winter), and things like the sense organs, emotions, tastes, colors and sounds.

An email from a friend and Thai-Yoga practitioner reminded me of this at an opportune time in December. I had been looking forward to the break in the training schedule and time with my family for the holidays more so this year than in the past. But I wasn’t connecting with all the hype and anticipation of the New Year.

I’m always compelled to take stock and set goals at the close of the race season, and during the transition from summer to fall. With everyone excited about resolutions and plans for the New Year, it was nice to be reminded that winter, in nature, is for stillness, restoration and rest.

The energy of winter is latent and potent: in this state of resting deep within, energy is collected and held in reserve; winter is cold and dark, qualities that preserve and store.

It is the concentrated, internal force of winter that enables a seed to burst forth in spring growth. – Neil Gumenick

Winter Training and Technical Change

I read the opening poem in The Essence of T’ai Chi Ch’uan after a long morning steady state session on the erg. We had been tasked with working the higher end of UT2 – the training zone that correlates with 50-65% perceived effort – so I started the erg with some gusto (think relative here!). Within minutes, my coach said something about being tight in the knees at the catch.

Tight in the knees at the catch?

First, let me say that I love feedback like this: Feedback that makes you think about what you’re feeling and draws your attention to something you haven’t considered before.

Second, can you see why I connected the stroke to the principles set forth in the poem?

In motion
all parts of the body must be
light
nimble
and strung together…

Ironically, this isn’t the first time I thought of T’ai Chi in relation to rowing. I took a course on the practice as a freshman in college and remember trying to apply the principles, from an energetic perspective, before the start of a 4k I’d been doing on my own in the gym. I can’t tell you a thing about the erg test (freshman year was a long time ago!), but I think that there’s value in continually pushing and expanding your understanding and awareness of the stroke. It’s fun, keeps it fresh, and provides a means for refining your relationship to the boat and the erg.

Take a look at another personal example and then make some connections of your own. Keep it simple and think of it as an ongoing practice. If the T’ai Chi poem doesn’t resonate, apply an action or practice that does like your connection to the barbell in weightlifting (my favorite) or a breathing technique used in yoga.

Legs to Body, and the Fingers at the Finish

The motion should be rooted in the feet,
released through the legs,
controlled by the waist,
and manifested through the fingers.

The feet, legs and waist
must act together simultaneously,
so that while stepping forward or back
the timing and position are correct.

If the timing and position are not correct,
the body becomes disordered,
and the defect must be sought
in the legs and waist.

These verses are rich with correlations to the stroke. For me, right now, they embody: 1) connecting the legs to the body through the drive, and 2) allowing the finish to unfold and reflect the earlier, stronger parts of the drive. We break down the stroke a lot in rowing. We isolate its parts to learn proper sequencing, and then further develop boat skills, mechanics and feel. We rebuild the stroke with the goal of gaining new speed. New language and comparisons provide tools that support the process, encouraging new ways of thinking about elements we may be working to improve.

Cheers to 2017!

Happy New Year, friends!

Wishing you strong mind, strong body, good health and great racing in the New Year!