CLAIRE SMYTHE liked the view from the window in the corner of the living room.
She would be there a while – about 3 ½ hours -- so she might as well make it as pleasant as possible. The redwood and oak trees would soften the monotony of the constant motion.
Claire placed down a yoga mat and rolled the rowing machine over it, pointed toward the daylight. She opened her laptop to create a video conference with four Stanford lightweight rowing teammates, turned on the rowing machine, and provided some words of encouragement … and they were off. To nowhere in particular.
The team last was together in the late afternoon of March 12, meeting on the grass at the Ford Center Plaza as coach Kate Bertko announced the cancellation of the season in response to the COVID-19 outbreak. The meeting was short, but the gathering was long. No one wanted to leave.
Days typically began at the Redwood City boathouse, with the rowers carrying their shells into the dark waters of Redwood Creek. They gently stepped into the boats and pushed off the dock. In the channel, they found their swing as they passed a massive cargo ship, a hulking gray cement plant, and gleaming office buildings, all while speeding into the rising sun.
It was a daily gift. They may not have realized it then, but they certainly do now.
"No one can take away the work that we put in, even though we didn't actually get to race," sophomore Emily Molins said. "No one can take away those hard workouts you go through as a team."
There is no substitute for open water or chilly golden mornings. There's no substitute for having 2,000 meters at your back and a national championship at stake. And there's no substitute for the euphoria of winning, a common feeling for a program that captured the past five Intercollegiate Rowing Association titles.
That's why this March 21 virtual meeting was so meaningful. It gave them a chance to row "together" again, for a cause.
* * *
Claire Smythe.
SMYTHE, A JUNIOR majoring in civil and environmental engineering from San Rafael, California, came up with the idea: an erg marathon for charity.
She was in peak condition. She rowed on the winning Varsity Eight in the past two IRA Grand Finals. She was preparing herself for a chance at a third title until shelter-in-place orders limited her to an indoor rowing machine -- commonly called an 'erg' for the ergometer that measures the distance of the workout – for the forseeable future.
"A marathon would be a way to put all of our training and competitive energy toward something," Smythe said. "And why not turn it into something that can actually do good for our community?"
During winter break, Claire joined her parents, Lucasfilm visual effects artists Douglas Smythe (an Oscar winner for the 1992 film "Death Becomes Her") and Katie Morris, to sort food at the San Francisco-Marin foodbank at Potrero Hill, part of the Feeding America network. Claire drew on that experience.
"I had a feeling these foodbanks would need extra support," Claire said. "With the schools closed, so many people are not going to have the same access to food, because schools provided a lot of those meals. Why not be able to use my privilege and my time and give back?"
Smythe put the idea to her team and four – Molins, and freshmen Noa Bregman, Maddie Lloyd, and Lindsey Rust -- agreed to join her. Smythe created a GoFundMe page for a charity fundraiser, set a date and time, set up a livestream on her Instagram account and made it happen.
"Claire was my pair partner on the Eight last year," Molins said. "She's pretty laser-focused. When she gets an idea, she runs with it. She was passionate about this, and if there's anyone I wanted to row three hours with, it would definitely be her."
The teammates were scattered but connected. Smythe was in Marin County, Molins in her basement in Wilmette, Illinois, Bregman in her living room in New York City, Lloyd in her living room in London, and Rust in her basement on Long Island.
"We all had a lot of speed in us," Bregman said, "and I wanted to put it to use by helping others."
* * *
The Varsity Eight boat in October's Head of the Charles. Photo by Aaron Shepley.
A MARATHON IS 26.2 miles. That's 42,195 meters. The most Smythe ever rowed on a machine was half that. On her longest day of multiple workouts, on water and with an erg, she may have covered 35,000.
"I wasn't super daunted by the marathon," Smythe said. "The amount of power you're putting into it is much lower than a normal workout and we have a cardio base that enables us to go for a long time. But rowing isn't quite a natural motion. It's important to stop and stretch, roll your back out, and make sure you're fueled properly."
With that, the rowers embarked.
The physical discomfort wasn't as tough as the mental. After 10,000 meters and 40 minutes, Bregman began to consider the distance overwhelming, knowing she still had more than 30,000 to go.
In a typical race, the end never is too far away, but "when you're completing a race that lasts over three hours, it's very easy to feel like the end is nowhere in sight," Rust said.
Their spirits always lifted when they encouraged each other, and when other teammates and family and friends entered the virtual meeting to urge them on.
"Keep it up, you guys!"
"This is so awesome!"
"What you're doing is amazing!"
Smythe described how heartening those voices were:
"You might be 40 minutes into a section and thinking, Oh, my back is hurting … I'm getting tired … How long am I going to last? Can I finish this? Then, all of a sudden, your teammate pops in, someone you've been rowing with every day, who knows how you feel."
In the expanse of the living room, Smythe listened to the mesmerizing spinning of the magnetics and hydraulics of the machines. The footsteps of her parents could be heard as they moved around the house.
Claire cut a solitary figure as she pressed on. She focused on the window. Outside, on this overcast day, she could see small birds passing back and forth, on their way to a nest in an overhang just out of view.
Molins called to her sister once for a water refill, but otherwise was alone. The boosts from the voices beyond kept her going.
Each rower finished at a different time, owing to their pace. As she closed in on the finish, Smythe pulled harder, sprinting over the final five minutes. She dug hard on her final strokes and then eased to a stop.
They raised $1,500 for Feeding America. Smythe accompanied the donation with a short note of explanation: "My teammates and I are really appreciative of all the work that you've done for our community and we wanted to give back."
She didn't feel any further explanation was needed.
* * *
Post-virtual workout with Emily Molins and Lindsey Rust.
THIS WAS THERAPY, a way to come to grips with losing the season.
"It definitely doesn't account for the intense feelings that come with a championship race," Smythe said. "But in terms of being fit and doing something cool with it, it absolutely hit the target. It ended up being a really incredible experience for everyone."
"It made me grateful for my health and I feel very lucky to be part of a team that cares so much about helping others," Bregman said.
"It felt amazing to be part of a good cause, especially during times like these when everyone in the world is going through the same struggle together," Rust said. "I was very proud that my teammates and I were able to use what we love to help support the community around us."
This whole experience gave Molins the panorama to see the sport in a wider context.
"This is a good reminder that to be a good rower, you can't really be in it for winning," Molins said. "That's what people spend many years chasing, but in order to have a group of girls return a long time from now, still eager to stay in shape and get right back at it, you have to really love the sport and love the people that you're with. It has to be bigger than one race."
For Smythe, there was no fist pump, and no screams of jubilation when she was done. She unstrapped her feet from the machine and slowly uncurled her back and she stood, and reached for an energy drink.
It wasn't a championship, or even any race at all. But it came with the same heart and purpose of anything she's done. A smile crossed her face.
In a lost season, there still was meaning.