- BOSTON / HELP FROM BOB
With the ‘insane’ commitment to compete at the C.R.A.S.H.-B.’s in Boston, there was training, logistics, and, oh yeah, money to think about. The training and logistics (travel) were all going to take money, which I did not have. Generosity comes from people and places that I would never had believed. Friends from my Church came from nowhere and donated protein powders, additional workout equipment, and money. What a great start but the money needed became the big issue. The expenses included; travel, hotel, and ground transportation just to name a few. Plus this was the first time I was traveling as a disabled person. There were so many logistical hurdles that I never knew about. It got to the point that I started to believe that getting and staying in Boston might be harder than competing in the Championship itself. Bottom line, the logistics for both Melissa and I getting to Boston would take money that we didn’t have. Enter Bob.
Bob is my childhood friend who lived three doors down from me growing up in Levittown, New York. Although we went to high school together, we hung out in different circles, rarely seeing each other. As a matter of fact, I remember playing and riding bicycles on our street with Bob as elementary school kids, but sadly, have not much memory of our relationship past 6th grade. Fast forward 40 years, to my leg amputation and rowing journey. Word of my physical problems started to be shared on Facebook. The news got all the way out to old high school friends. I had never gone to a reunion and never had contact with these people since graduation. One recipient of the news was Bob. From out of nowhere he reached out to me to offer support with my medical mishaps. From that point we kept in contact on a more frequent basis than anyone else I went to school with. When the rowing idea came up, and the monetarily, logistical problems that ensued, Bob stepped in. He only had one question, “How much do you need?” Others may have opened the door to Boston, but Bob kept it from closing.
- 1ST PLANE TRIP
There were three options to travel up to Boston. These three options, or factors, were ones that would influence my mode of travel. Let’s first look at the three factors that governed the decision. The most obvious factor was my medical condition. I’m not just a large guy but, I’m a large guy with a large prosthetic. So, I had to take in consideration the semantics of my size; where could I fit, or not, comfortably. The second question was on the weather. A person can get spoiled by the weather in North Carolina, but growing up on Long Island, New York I knew what February winters were like in the New England area. Between the snow, ice and bitter cold, winter time can be brutal. Last but not least, my last factor was my finances.
Okay, now came the modes of travel that I had to choose from and how the factors weighed in against my choice. The first and maybe obvious was to drive, take a car. The factors that shot down this mode of transportation were weather and medical condition. It would probably take between 10 and 12 hours to get there (not counting bad weather the closer we got to Boston) and being able to physically/medically sit that long in a car. That would also be 2 days wasted just driving. The first to get crossed off the list was car travel. The next option of travel was to ride AMTRAK – train travel. This fell under the same factors as the car. Trains don’t travel any faster than cars, so it would take just as long. Again, being cooped up on a train for 2 days with my leg wasn’t really an option. The last choice was flying. The plane ride alone would have only taken about 2 hours each way. I planned on going up a day early and coming back a day late to anticipate delays with bad weather. If I had to, I could take my prosthetic off once aboard for comfortable seating. And the price was comparable to car and train travel. I used to travel a lot by air for a living, so I knew what to expect. But what to expect traveling with my new body and its limitations were a bit scary.
CRASH B’S EXPLAINED
In 1980, The Charles River All-Star Has-Beens (C.R.A.S.H.-B.) began as a group of U.S. Olympic and World team athletes competing on Concept2 ergometers to break up the monotony of winter training. The C.R.A.S.H.-B. Sprints are the world international indoor rowing championship with approximately 2,500 competitors of all ages from 14 to 91. All athletes race over 2000 meters only once. The competition has outgrown six facilities and now takes place every February in Boston, Massachusetts at Boston University’s Agganis Arena. The Agganis Arena is a state-of-the-art, multipurpose sports and entertainment center. A 290,000-square-foot premier venue with 6,150 seats for hockey and ice shows, the Arena is expandable to over 8,000 seats for concerts, sporting events, and family shows. There are, as of the 2008 competition, 58 different categories. These include lightweight and heavyweight, juniors and masters, and adaptive (disabled).
HYATT REGENCY: WORKOUT WITH MY LADY
The representatives of the competition recommended several hotels to stay at and one being the Hyatt. The Hyatt Regency Cambridge hotel overlooks the Boston skyline. It is conveniently situated along the scenic Charles River where the City of Boston blends with the educational charm of Cambridge, MA. The hotel is situated between Harvard, MIT, Boston University and minutes to Kendall Square business district. The ironic scenario was that the hotel was situated right on the Charles River. Rowing on the Charles is part of Boston History. Although I never followed rowing as a sport, driving past all of the University boat houses, on the way from the airport to the hotel, was nothing less than inspiring.
The Hyatt Regency was a very nice hotel which had the amenities that you would expect in such a place. They had a restaurant, lounge, indoor pool, and work out facility. This facility was called the Hyatt Stay-Fit Gym. Another inspiring moment for me happened in this gym and it came from a perfect stranger, other than the Charles River. The morning before the race I went up to the gym to have a light workout. Being that it was 6:00 am, I didn’t expect to see anyone there. I was wrong. There working out was this tiny, almost frail looking, woman that appeared to be in her mid-70’s. We exchanged pleasantries as we started our workouts. To break the awkwardness, I asked if she was here for the Crash-B’s Rowing Championships. She looked at me like I had three heads, with no idea what I was talking about. After the $1.50 explanation, I went on to tell her that this was my first time competing in something like this. She asked me “What did I expect”. I told her it wasn’t as much expecting, as it was wanting. I wanted to come in under 4 minutes (which I had never done in my training) and I just wanted to beat one competitor, dust just one. She looked at me, like a grandmother would and said very quietly, “Fuck’em, Dust Them All”. I walked out of the gym with the same sediments – why not!
TIPS BY TERRY
Later that same morning, I had a meeting with Mark and Terry from Concept2. My training for the CRASH-B’s consisted of nothing more than moral support over the telephone and a willingness to try. I relied on my past training and experiences of being a softball player. As far as knowledge and technique in the sport of competitive indoor rowing goes, I knew nothing. A couple of weeks before arriving to Boston, I did pick up some pointers over the telephone from Mark (Customer Service Adaptive Rowing). He was patient, especially trying to show, or teach someone this sport long distance. He decided that it would be a good idea for meet to meet with Terry, who is a Concept2 Master Trainer and himself the day before the race. There I could get some quick one-on-one pointers for the race – a game plan. I was to meet them at their hotel.
The hotel that Mark and Terry were staying at was the one that most of the experience rowers were staying at. The Hyatt Regency where Melissa and I were staying was about a 15-minute cab ride away. The lobby was filled with rowers with their family and friends all adorned with rowing warm-up suits, tee-shirts, and jackets. I had a DUKE MED sweat shirt – again nothing to do with rowing. Concept2 reserved a banquet room at the hotel to install dozens of their ERGs so the competing athletes, staying there, could train as race day grew near. We were to meet there. When I first walked into the room I was in such awe, or even amazement seeing all of these ERGs, these rowing machines lined up in rows like soldiers in formation. It was very impressive. Mark and Terry also had a look of amazement on their faces as well, but it was for a totally different reason. As I approached them, I knew exactly what they were thinking, “Holy Crap! This guy is not our normal size rower.” Talk about people trying to hide surprise. The typical rower that she had dealt with was; age mid-20’s, average height, slender weight, and wash-board ab’s. Surprise! I enter the room; age mid-50’s, 6’-5”, 300 pounds, and beer-belly ab’s. Oh, who am I kidding, just beer-belly. Mark was a mid-size man and Terry was a tall slender woman. They both had typical size ‘rower’s’ bodies in their own right. I gave them both a big hug and broke the ice by saying, “Looks like you got your work cut out for you.”
I was nervous. I felt like I was at Little League Baseball tryouts all over again. I was not just being around my ‘coaches’, but around the dozens of rowers who were training. This was a small athletic stage that I had never been on, even though it was just in a training situation. It was still so very foreign to me. Mark handed the coaching chores over to Terry and we got to work. Because of the amount of people there and Terry’s limited time, there was only about 10 minutes permitted to lay out my race day plan of attack. Terry told me to get on an ERG and show her my rowing technique. Listening to Mark over the telephone in the weeks leading up to this point helped me greatly. He was a good teacher, my technique was okay. The big game plan: The rowing machine has a damper/speed setting (1 to 10), most rowers set their machine at 3 (an easier stroke). Because of my size, she told me to set it at 7 and pull the living sh*#!%$ out it. She said it would feel like I would be pulling a house, but my strength would have to overcome the competitor’s speed and experience. My one pull/stroke, would equal three of theirs. So we were now left with the most important tips and advice in rowing the next day. The race was a 1K or 6/10 of a mile sprint. A good time in the category I was competing in, “Open Men Legs – Trunks – Arms; Above the Knee – Amputee” was in the high 3 minutes plus range. The plan was when the race started, I was to take 6 very slow, deliberate strokes, then start ramping up at a good steady pace, but don’t burn out too soon. Then with a 1/3rd of the race left, pick up the pace, then pick up the pace a little more, then all out sprint. I was now ready for the World Indoor Rowing Championship. I worked out for 4 weeks and had 10 minutes with a trainer – Oh God! What was I doing?
I was coming from being a team-sport to now a solo act; outdoor sport to indoor; physically abled body to know disabled, throwing my body around a ball field to now being constrained to a machine, and a sport I knew (softball) to a sport I only read about a month before. What a recipe for winning.
3:00 AM ‘WAKE-UP’ CALL
When I was training for Boston, I needed a ‘motivational’ tool, something that would drive me. This was an important ingredient, not only in my training, but for the competition itself. The motivational tool that I used was the same one that I used when I trained in the off-season for softball. When I trained back then I would think of all of the people that hurt me on the field and off. These would be the opponents who would slide into me, taking my legs out, trying to hurt me. And this would also be some coaches who didn’t play me at times. I was going to show them, prove them wrong by coming back better than ever. My rowing motivation was going to be the same, but with a twist. This time my anger was aimed on the people who turned their backs on me when I was going through the many lows of my recent life. I was set on showing them how very wrong they all were and how far I have come back. I climbed out of a deep hole and I was back on center stage. It was a long list of names.
Early Sunday morning, the day of the race, I woke up at 3:00 am – I couldn’t sleep. I don’t know if it was excitement, nervous energy, or a case of the “What the Hell Am I Doing Here” reality check. Nevertheless, I was up. With nothing to do, I decided to write down Terry’s strategy on paper. With only one shot at this, I wanted to get it right and not forget during the race. But in the quiet of the early morning, it dawned on me; “Why was I here?” The answer was not to show up my past, it was to show the handicap/disabled and DUKE University Medical Center what can be done. “Who helped me get here?” The people that got me here were my friends at DUKE, high school friends, Bay Leaf Church and Melissa. Why am I wasting my time on people who didn’t/wouldn’t help? I should be celebrating the people who did. At this point, winning wasn’t a priority, it was just getting the opportunity to be here. It seemed like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders with long over-due calm setting it, the pressure was off. Plus, it was a much shorter list of names to worry about.
(Thank GOD for that 3:00 am “Wake-Up” Call)
THE MORNING OF. . .
Preparing for the race was the same as preparing for an operation. Being ‘old school’ on the operation level, I would want surgery at the earliest, morning slot. Being first in the morning, leaves no time to eat and more importantly, no time to think/worry. And, ice chips after surgery never tasted so good. But I wasn’t as lucky in past operation times as in now my race, rowing times. My race was at 1:00 in the afternoon. This was too much time to, well to be nervous.
I had a “going through the motion” breakfast at the hotel. I knew I had to eat, but how much? I wasn’t hungry, nerves, but knew I had to have something. The only thing that lacked in eating was talking. Melissa and I struggled through both.
‘THE MAIN EVENT’
After breakfast, or lack of, Melissa and I went to the front of the hotel and waited for the race-provided shuttle bus. Here we stood with other rowers waiting anxiously, killing the long moments with small conversations; where you from, how long you been competing, etc. I was competing in a 1K or 6/10ths of a mile – a sprint, where the seasoned pros would probably come in under 4 minutes. The category was “Open Men’s Legs: Trunk – Arms, Above Knee Amputee”. Upon arriving at Boston University’s Agganis Arena, the ‘butterfly’s’ in my stomach started to fly. The arena was full of spectators from around the world. Different nation’s flags were waved throughout. The arena floor had hundreds of ERGs lined up like military vehicles all in a row. My category would be filled with such military personnel who lost limbs in the war. Walking to the locker room to get ready, I passed the emergency medical station and the nods that I got from the paramedics were their way of saying, “Hey, Old Man - See You Later”.
Focus, focus, focus. In the locker room, I was surrounded by military men (kids) who lost their legs in the war and were now competing. On a different field of honor, with silent admiration, I looked at them and with quizzical glances they acknowledged me. I had to block everything out. My goals were to; 1st – finish the race, 2nd – try to have a time around 4 minutes, and 3rd – not to visit the nodding, ‘bobble-headed’ paramedics.
DRAWING A BLANK
The only game plan that I had was music. From the very beginning, and up to now, music played a big part in my playing careers. As a young boy I grew up listening to pop music; bubble gum music. As an outfielder in Little League Baseball, I would ward off the boredom (not to many balls were hit out to me) with songs like ‘Yummy, Yummy, Yummy, I got love in my Tummy’ & ‘Build me up Buttercup’. In high school groups like Bad Company & Peter Frampton played to get me psyched up for the games. After my high school years, disco played in my head while on the field. Soon the group Journey took over with a sometimes Yanni or John Tesh instrumental. Music was always on the athletic field with me.
This day, I had a 4-minute Journey song that I intended to submerse my head into, stay focused, and row. Walking out onto the arena floor, I had a blank look on my face that Melissa noticed. With great concern, she pulled me aside and asked what was wrong. I said I forgot the song. She said what? I said I not only can’t remember the song and words, I couldn’t even name one person in the group Journey. She said forget about Journey, just grab any song you know and row.
AND THE WINNER IS . . .
Well, on the arena floor, I was seated on ERG #80. One of the competitors next to me was an active Green Beret. He was a brazen, cocky, young soldier that refused to shake my hand before the race. As an American I chalked up his attitude to being a Green Beret and the persona that goes with the rank - tough. As an athlete, he woke up the old jock in me – so be it, screw the niceties, let’s get it on. Each rower had to be accompanied by a coxswain/coach. If I you didn’t have one, one would be provided to you by the race officials. Melissa and I both agreed that she would be my coxswain. Chairs were provided right behind the rowers for their coaches. Seconds before the race started, Melissa leaps out of her chair, cups her hands around my left ear and says, “What the hell does the coxswain do?” I replied to her that, “I haven’t a clue, I can’t even spell it, just sit there and do what the others do.” The race began and as my competitors sped along and I was pulling the ‘so-called house.’ With one-third left in the race I was to pick up speed, after a while pick up more speed, and then a mad dash at the end. Looking at the monitor on my ERG it was time to make my first push. There was no way I could do that without burning out, so I stayed the course and waited for the second push. When that time came, I picked up the pace and finally I rowed with all my might – the ‘mad-dash’. The race was over and I couldn’t breathe. I mean I couldn’t breathe. What didn’t help was Melissa mobbing and hugging me, yelling, “You did it, you did it!” I thought she was talking about finishing and not embarrassing me. Yes, but there was much more. I won a medal! When it was all said and done, I accomplished my 3 goals; finished the race, broke 4 minutes (giving me a second-place finish), and walk past the paramedic ‘bobble-heads’ with a thumbs up. My Green Beret friend came in 4th.
Melissa came over and asked, among other things about the race, what Journey song did I use? There was no “Journey”, I replied. I went with an old standby that just popped into my head: “Build Me Up Buttercup” released in 1968 by The Foundations. The guys I beat weren’t even born when that tune came out and I hadn’t heard it in years – “Ah, it’s good to be old school.”
C.R.A.S.H. – B.’S 2011 RESULTS
EVENT: OPEN MEN LEGS – TRUNKS – ARMS: ABOVE THE KNEE – AMPUTEE
1. MERTOWSKI, DERRICK UNAFFILIATED 03:54.8
2. GABRIEL, ERIC UNAFFILIATED 03:58.5
3. ROSENBERG, JOTHY UNAFFILIATED 03:59.2
Before getting on the shuttle bus to go back to the hotel, I bumped into the Green Beret Soldier that I had competed next to. This was the first time that we had spoken, before and since the race. He extended his hand and said, “I only have two questions for you; How old are you and how long have you been training?” My reply; “51 and I had never rowed before and have only been training for 5 weeks”. With one word “Shit” and he got on the bus. That conversation, brief as it was, broke the ice and we have been friends ever since.
THE CELEBRATION
The shuttle bus ride back to the hotel was quite different from hours before. Previous nervousness was taken over by everyone sharing their experiences and race results of the day. This trip, Melissa and I were extremely quiet. I was almost afraid to open my mouth for reason that it might sound like I was bragging with my results. With that said, Melissa and I just stared and smiled at each other all of the way back to the hotel. This was the one time that I wished a shuttle bus ride took longer but Melissa and I had an appointment with a celebration that we planned before we even got to Boston. And it was waiting back at the hotel.
When planning to compete and travel to Boston, Melissa and I got on our computer and looked at the hotels that were available and accommodating for the rowers and especially for my disability. We chose the Hyatt Regency. Their website had all pertinent information including pictures of the hotel. They posted photos of rooms, banquet halls, restaurants, and the lounge. The photo of the lounge was beautiful. It was taken at night with no patrons in it. A dozen or so chairs were all lined up in a diagonal alignment along the length of the bar. The photo also captured how the bar and lounge area overlooked the Charles River and Boston skyline that was lit up at night. We had no intentions of winning, but we agreed that after the race we were going to sit in ‘those two’ bar seats at the end of the bar and celebrate just getting to the C.R.A.S.H. – B.’s. When the shuttle dropped us off, we didn’t even put our bags in the room. We went straight to the lounge and as luck would have it; our chosen seats were waiting for us. The sun had just started to go down and the city of Boston was beginning to illuminate. We ordered our drinks and I think, or I should I say now, that it finally hit me – we medaled in The World International Rowing Championships. My mind went to reflection and thanks for the hard work, people, and the Lord that got us here. I raised my glass with a silent toast to those. Our two chosen seats sat us on top of the world. I felt like I did when I was a young competitive softball player. Many people in the lounge area approached us to see the medal and asked if they could have pictures taken with it. They started to celebrate with us without even knowing us. The only other people we had to share this with were the people at DUKE, Bay Leaf Baptist Church, and Melissa’s cousins. We had points of contacts set up, so we placed three phone calls and the news branched out back home. Being a die-hard New York Yankee baseball fan, I can honestly say that Boston never looked so good – never felt so good.
NANCY’S WELCOME HOME
The following day, we flew back home with the celebration still going strong. We had an early afternoon flight that allowed us to sleep-in (which I had little), have a good breakfast, and not rush. I wanted to savor every moment. Melissa and I celebrated at the airport and on the plane. I didn’t want to sleep on the plane - I didn’t want to miss a thing. It was a quick 2-hour plane ride from Boston to Raleigh. When we touched down and went to get our luggage, we were surprised to see that Nancy Payne from DUKE and her husband Alan were their waiting with celebration balloons. What a surprise! I cried. I think my adrenaline was wearing off and tiredness was kicking in. But they were kind enough to take us out to dinner and continue the celebration. My pillow never felt so good that night.
CELEBRATED AT BAY LEAF
The following week, Melissa and I attended our usual service at Bay Leaf Baptist Church. We are creatures of habit. Before our service we would stop for coffee at a designated area in the Church’s recreation hall. There you get a chance to catch up with the fellow practitioners. Sprinkled throughout the Church buildings are large flat screen televisions, hanging on the walls. Here Bay Leaf put up videos of up-coming events and current news at the Church. It’s like a state-of-the-art slide show, video style. Melissa and I got our coffee and started to chat with friends when all of a sudden, the screen displays me and Melissa and my success at the C.R.A.S.H.-B.’s. I was happily flawed that they did this. With all of the congratulations and slaps on the back during our quick cup of coffee it was time to attend our service. Melissa and I sat in the same pew each week which is located in the back, the last row. Getting seated, we looked up front at the pulpit and saw the giant video screen mounted behind, on the back wall. You can only guess who was on it. After returning home that day, there was an e-mail waiting for me from DUKE University Medical Center. They wanted to feature me in a video at their ‘All-Staff Event’.