Cht 1
Behind you all the way
As the crowds cheer on, thud, thud, thud... The adrenaline coarsing through his veins as the light breeze whips over his body and across the water, lightly rocking the keel as the waves kiss the hull. This was what he had trained for as he closes his eyes and inhales, controlling the adrenaline coarsing through his body, thud... Thud... Thud... He had trained hard for this, 'you've got this, kiddo' as the thought continues to still his heart further, harnessing it, thud... Thud... Thud...
Standing on the balcony of the boathouse, and sporting her loud and proud MIT row team hoodie, Root leans over and further into Shaw, pushing Shaw into the railing while the hug around Shaw's waist gets tighter, thud, thUD, THUD... As Shaw listens to Root's heart beat getting louder and faster.
Birds fly over, momentarily shaking the calming sounds of the water as they flutter by, and all is calm again. Thud... Thud... Feeling the oars in his hands, sturdy and strong, as the crowds continue to chant and cheer. Bang, bang, banging of their sticks, whistles screeching across the air in organised chaos, and chants being hurled across the water as rival Varsity teams bid to out cheer each other, all caught up in the spirit of competition.
"You know this is going to end in only one of two ways" as Shaw interrupts Root's thoughts.
"No its not" Root beams, "just one way, winning" as Root embraces Shaw tightly, and leans her head onto Shaw's, "didn't you teach him that?"
Scoffing, "no I mean, either you're going to have a heart attack, or you're going to push us both over the railing and maybe to our deaths" as Shaw peeks over the railing, "if we're unlucky, maybe maimed. 50/50 on where we land. Ground or water" Shaw finishes teasing as she returns to look back over her shoulder to gaze at Root.
Focusing now on herself, then down at them both, Root instantly relents and stops pushing Shaw into the railing. Taking a step back, Root had realised that she had unconsciously been pushing into Shaw as she gazed nervously towards the starting line.
'Charles, don't let me down...' As the light cool breeze continues to whip over his bare shoulders, his vest top fluttering slightly at the small imposition. The warm glowing sun skims off his olive tanned skin and toned physique, highlighting the muscles across his thighs and biceps. Water continuing to occasionally splash into the boat as it continues to rock with the waves. 'Strong and calm' as he exhales a long breath, ffffffff... 'Stay strong, and calm' as he exhales again slowly...
Chuckling silently, Shaw slides her hands over Root's which were still curled around Shaw's waist. Rubbing Root's arms gently, "he's got this" Shaw tries to reassure, but Root continues to watch nervously on as she glances back to the starting line.
Lining up alongside the rest of the single skulls, sitting only inches above the river on a long carbon fibre hollowed out shell of a racing boat, he places his strong and calloused fingers over the ends of the oars, a strong, steady grip. Confident, and always ready, just as his Ma had taught him, ffffff...
The ferocious sound of the hooter fires and echoes loudly into the void as the judge in the start tower begins the race. Snapping to attention, they were off, as the cheering boomed louder with every stroke.
'Aaaaaaaaaargh' as he fires up instantly upon hearing the hooter, like he has been conditioned to do. Grunting, pulling with force, his biceps, shoulders, back, thigh and leg muscles all start to scream as they urge the boat forward.
Thudthudthudthudthud...
'Ouch,' as Shaw gets hit in the neck as Root buries her head into it.
"You know, you might want to breathe," and Shaw instantly feels Root inhale and blow air back out and across her neck as Root remembers to breathe again . "He's got this" Shaw confirms again, trying to convince Root as much as urging their son on.
Fffffff... 'You've got this, kiddo...' As Ma's words continue to echo in his mind, fuelling him. Relaxing and clearing the tension from his shoulders, 'yes I do!' As he begins to settle into his rhythm, pushing and pulling. Every stroke getting easier as the momentum builds...
Listening to the swishing of the water as he cuts through it, drowning out the distractions, the surroundings beginning to melt away, ffffff...
'Inhale on the pull, exhale on the push, ffffff...' Beginning to breath more heavily as his heart starts pumping louder and faster as he breathes in larger quantities of air, 'inhale pull, exhale push...' His legs bending with his arms in tight efficient and well rehearsed coordinated movements.
'Turing! Pull dxmn it!' He admonishes himself as he thinks of Mom waiting at the finishing line watching over him proudly in the MIT team hoodie he wanted her to wear, 'you got this' as he continues to psyche himself up and push himself on.
The oars straightening out in front of him as he stretches his legs straight again, all the while his seat moves with him, up and down the centre of the boat in his sliding chair, ffffff... 'This is mine' as he continues to pull harder and faster, the water splashing and kicking off around him as he starts to pull away from the others.
Watching students on the finishing end of the river begin to jump up and join in with the cheering as the rowers draw nearer. The few running and cycling along the banks trying to keep up with the rowers start to dwindle as the pace becomes too much for some. And the volume of the cheering increases ever further as the atmosphere continues towards it's crescendo. The finishing line was in sight, the floating red vertically lined buoys beckoning...
Screams indicate the first boat crossing the finishing line and cutting across the buoys, followed by the small crowd of parents and VIPs cheering alongside Root and Shaw on the boathouse balcony. Root's head and grip around Shaw finally relents as she relaxes, her breathing starting to return to normal again as the tension slowly drifts away, recovering.
Shaw smirks as she continues to watch over her son, now floating in his boat directly in front of the boathouse, breathing heavily, resting.
The sports director saunters over to the pair, "congratulations on another win. If he keeps that up he'll be heading to international trials! You should be proud!" He finishes, his voice booming, soaking in his student's pride.
Hardly able to contain her grin and pride, letting go of Shaw, Root turns to face him, "we are very proud! Thank you Robert, for continuing to look after him so well!" As Root reaches out to shake Robert's outstretched, in offer of congratulations, hand.
Even Shaw couldn't contain her pride as one half of her mouth creeps up in a publicly visible smile.