The cure for farsightedness

There is a five-hour time difference between LA and here, if you factor in the two-hour cultural shift I experience when I’m there. In light of that, I admit that my first thought when the alarm goes off Sunday morning is “what was I thinking?” By pure coincidence, the iPod is waking me to Row Jimmy. Must be a sign. I think of the team that awoke early the day before to row the Blackburn, and drag myself out of bed.

It’s a beautiful day – sunny, just past full tide, with a gentle breeze off the land. As I tighten the foot-straps, the wind and tide become an invisible hand, gently pushing me away from the dock and right out the channel. I make a mental note for the ride back, but in my half-asleep state I welcome the assistance. As I finally dip my oars into the first stroke, I look over at the promontory on Brown’s Island. Someone has arranged rows and rows of white chairs. A wedding. Perhaps the day before. I think back to a day much like this when R. and I were married at Castle Rock.

Rowing, I’ve come to understand, is fundamentally different from other sports. “Back to the Future”, the T-shirt says. But this also means we are facing our past. On a sailboat or kayak, the journey begins looking out at the vast ocean of possibilities. When rowing, we contemplate where we have been.

At Marblehead Rock, Dee and Charlie head towards Children’s Island, while Jon and I decide to head to Tinker’s. The water off the neck is often confused, although today, and perhaps this is my state of mind, it seems better described as playful. Slow rollers are coming in off the ocean, while the breeze is building a small chop off the shore. The swells are just breaking over Tom Moore Rock as we row past.

Along the shore of the neck, I notice big white tents in yards: more signs of recent festivities. How often people on the shore must look out, perhaps dreaming of where they could be. We get to look back, thankful we are here. What a glorious day to be on the ocean.

We round Tinker’s Island and set an outside route to Children’s. My mind returns to thinking about how rowers face the past. While the next goal is a glance over the shoulder, or a point on the compass, with every stroke we look back on the goals we have already reached. Perhaps this is why Capt. Jack likes to row around things.

In the latest Wired, Clive Thompson writes about how as a society, we suffer from an excess of farsightedness. We skip vacation to work overtime, or bypass pleasures today for some elusive long-term goals. And how, as we look back years later, our regret over working too hard dwarfs regrets over taking time to play. The suggested cure: When faced with a decision, spend more time thinking about how you will look back on your choice years from now.

As we round Children’s Island and head back towards Little Harbor, the wind and tide that eased us into the row is now at our backs. But with my back to the future, I’m more focused on where we’ve been and what we’ve accomplished. Such a wonderful way to start the day. I don’t regret taking time out to row.