Nostalgic boat race day poem

As I sit down, all my heavy pounds

and lick my lips after a tasty dish,

I’ve spent the afternoon cooking,

dipping in and out of hearing the Cox shout,

the oarsman and woman both,

battle the course of the river head,

I feel sorrow for the rower in me dead,

long ago now in a life I once knew,

experienced that no pain, no gain too,

the strength and the will power in me still,

as I battle the determination of two boys that fill,

all my leftover energies now,

I look out at the sunny spring eve,

wonder if I can run up the hill…how?

I’ve eaten well.

My tummy too full.

I race in my mind and in spirit.

knowing, remembering that once, I did it.

the family cut out
‘The Family’ (2016) Sam Shendi
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Ripe for rowing

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‘Ripe’, (2016) Sam Shendi

This was me 6 years ago ( well not quite) I’m a bit late posting, due to problems with my computer downloading images and being slow getting the words out! However, it’s enabled me to tie two themes together. My youngest sixth birthday was on Saturday and we watched the rowing and the woman’s eight win a silver medal.

In the last twenty years there has been huge developments in woman’s rowing, yesterday was a fantastic result. I sat and watched in remembrance of my days on the water at Durham and seeing Jess Eddie as a school girl rowing out of Durham’s ARC. Thinking of my good friend who made it to the Beijing Olympics and a former fellow high school student who was in the men’s eight. In the heptathalon,¬†Jessica Ennis Hill proofed you can have a baby and come back to true athletic form. I am in awe of that. In the rowing and the athletics and for all the Olympic sports, there have been many comments about the sacrifice: the time away from family, the hours of training, ¬†and that the moment of success which could so easily be snatched in the last second, out of the winning. Not usually decisive, I made that very clear conscious choice as I went down to London in pursuit of the rowing dream that I wasn’t going to be willing to sacrifice any more time for rowing. Four years had been enough for me.

Now as I watch my husband’s dedication, I again sit on the edge of that choice. My husband sacrifices for his art but it’s a different progress than the journey through a sporting one. For the sports person their window of opportunity is short and if added into that as a woman you have a child then the sacrifices are even greater. If you are pursuing any dream there has to be dedication and persistence and a choice of leading a life which is in pursuit of a goal.

There are sculptures of heavily pregnant woman but for me they are too realistic. Each blue circle on this piece represents a day of the pregnancy, the journey of the development. Perhaps too it can represent the sacrifice. Motherhood is the ultimate of that.

 

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