Went for a row for the first time since March 11. I have...mixed feelings. I miss my team. I miss my river. I miss stroking a powerful 8 instead of a double. Yet, being on the water was awesome, as it almost always is. It feels a little like coming home. I didn’t get to say goodbye to my last season with my team the way I wanted to, but the sport is still here, and it’s not the end; it’s just a new chapter. I know that someday I’ll row down my river again. Someday I’ll sit in a fast 8 again. My time with my team is like the threads of a story that carry through to the end, all the way to the back cover—there will be a last time, someday, and some last times have already passed, but for now, I can remember and relive and reconnect, and that is enough.
