I’ve lived in Cambridge over twenty years, and yet hadn’t considered learning to row until my colleague Lizzie dragged me to the boathouse that chilly February evening. Her club, The Warriors of the Ouse, were looking for new members and I was a perfect fit. I later found out members left for rival clubs following a battering in the previous summer’s races.

The river blended into its surroundings as Jamie – the Club President – put me through my paces on the ERG rowing machine. The minutes passed in a blur as I practiced shifting my spine from the 11 to 1 o’clock positions whilst pushing through my legs to complete the stroke. I quickly realised the power in rowing comes through the legs, shaky when I stood back up and during the long cycle home afterwards.

As winter gave way to spring, I my training advanced onto the water. Lizzie and I could often be found during those longer evenings speeding up and down the Cam, a duo in the affectionately known ‘Tub’ beginner boat. Together, we’d row upstream to Logan’s Meadow and beyond to Stourbridge Common and Ditton Meadows. I steadily relaxed more, became more confident in myself and my abilities, and felt the oar as an extension of myself, feathering and blading as a second nature.

The issues arose as spring moved to summer and I graduated from the Tub to an eight-man crew. My frustration rose as my progress stalled as Jamie often cancelled our outings at short notice, providing no alternative training plan. I also developed a habit of digging my oar, unhelpfully catching a crab on more than one occasion. Nonetheless, I persisted, excited when Jamie promised me a seat for Bumps, albeit Strugglers & Stragglers. Lizzie would be rowing in the same race too, her crew starting a few boats ahead. We invited friends and colleagues to the riverbank viewing area, promising we would join them afterwards to enjoy a glass of celebratory Pimms.

I arrived for my first Bumps experience on an uncharacteristically grey July day, my body tingling with excitement. Lizzie greeted me, face twisted in panic. Jamie couldn’t row due to a cycling accident, so could I please fill in for him? I hurriedly agreed, not wanting to let the Warriors or Lizzie down. With some trepidation, I took Jamie’s place on the start line.

No sooner had we arrived in place, the start cannon fired and the race began. I started poorly, feeling my inexperience through the oars. As I thoughts back to my training, doubts swirled through my mind:

What was Jamie thinking? As if I’m an appropriate substitute for the men’s Premier Cru.

I barely knew Bumps was a thing before, let alone participated.

I’ve only been rowing for five months; I should be with the Strugglers & Stragglers.

Then my oar hit the bank, the boat lurched towards the water, and everything went black.