The Blackburn Challenge — Cape Super Moms

“I’m never getting in a gig boat again.”

“I’m pretty sure this is how I die.”

“At least my last visions were this beautiful island that I love.”

These are a handful of thoughts that floated through my head last Saturday when I participated in the Blackburn Challenge. The Blackburn is something of a rite of passage here on Cape Ann. Co-blogger and bad ass friend, Jill finished last year in a dory boat. I’ve had other friends finish it on a paddle boards and kayaks. The challenge is to row all the way around Cape Ann in under 6 hours. It is in honor of local hero and fisherman, Howard Blackburn, who was in a dory boat with his buddy, Thomas Welch back in 1883 and got separated from the large ship they were with, got caught in some conditions and Thomas Welch died. Blackburn, despite the weather and his deceased friend in the boat, rowed the dory back to land, his hands actually freezing to the oars over the ensuing ordeal. He went on to be called the “fingerless navigator” having lost a few fingers in that journey and kept sailing and fishing and doing his thing.

I rowed in a gorgeous vessel called The Siren Song, a gig boat. There are 6 rowers and one coxswain. The cox steers the vessel, avoiding lobster traps, boats and other hazards along our 20 miles journey, doing her best to keep us in an efficient path, and the rowers, well, we row. I was lucky to be put together with 5 amazing women I’m proud to call friends. The club we row with has a committee to determines who is racing in what boat and with how, and we were so grateful they put us all together. We had never rowed that far together and were looking forward to the challenge. So starting in May, we began rowing together, 2-3 times a week to practice our timing and technique and mental stamina.

After weeks of preparation, bags stocked with water, electrolyte infused jelly beans, sunblock, bug spray (green heads up the river), music playlist carefully curated, mojo bag full of crystals, and enough happy thoughts to fill an ocean, race day arrived. We met that morning with nervous bellies and excited thoughts.

Our mojo bag of energy and affirmations. You can never have enough good vibes!

It was a lot of firsts for me. First time rowing under the bridge, first time going up the Annisquam River in a boat, first time rowing a boat for over 2 hours. My bucket list with this one event was checking a lot of boxes. I’ve lived here 5 years, but it’s only been in the last few years I’ve really gotten into the water in a meaningful way. This girl is from landlocked Utah and these ocean sports and events are extremely fresh and new. This was only my second season ever handling an oar.

I know there will be some who read this and will be all, “Pssh, Blackburn Shmackburn! Ya land locked newbie!” But, what can I say? It’s all new to me.

The only other event I tried to compare this to was when I ran a few marathons. Except in a marathon, it’s just you. At least the kind of runner I was, you don’t have to run at the exact same cadence and pace as 5 other runners, trying your hardest to keep exactly in synch so you can go as fast as you can.

Other boats, full of prepared (and I’m sure also nervous) rowers lined the starting line. The bull horn voice announced the start and we were off. The first leg of the race was down river and thank Aphrodite, we had the current with us. That first leg felt gooood. Thanks to the current and carb loading, we rowed fast and well. Five miles seemed to go by in a flash.

A beautiful shot taken from shore by cheerleader and friend, Sandra Qu. From L to R, Suzyn, Kara, Karen, Whitney, Jaime, Mel and Jenny just doin the damn thing.

Along the way, we had pockets of cheerleaders and support. Because of the course and our pace, we even had a group of people meet us along the shoreline and more than one point. Ringing a cowbell and hooting and hollering at one point as we passed, then getting in their car, driving to another point in the course and repeating the cowbell (MORE COWBELL!) and cheers. Between the 6 of us rowing, we had different spots along the course where our families were. We saw some of them early in the first half, some of them on a boat following alongside, some of them more than once, some of them at the finish. My little crew were at a spot we frequent together on walks, a bluff of rocks off the coast. We were a little over halfway when we saw them, and the pain had started to set in. To see their little hands waving back and forth lifted my aching spirits and kept me going for a few more miles.

But then. Oh boy. It was a hot day and we were not doing a casual pace. I was sweating buckets and right around mile 13 a massive headache set in and I knew it was the beginning signs of dehydration. Despite my best efforts to hydrate in preparation for the race, and taking water breaks every 15 minutes, I knew I was in trouble. The last 7 miles was full of prayers and pain.

These were some thoughts that went through me head, pretty much in this order:

Huh. I feel really bad that I’m going to have to stop rowing and let everyone else finish this race for me.
Well, this is how I die.
I’m the guy that dies and the rest of my crew are Blackburn.
I need more water.
I’m never rowing again.
Please God, just give me a little of your strength.
Can’t wait for pulled pork on the beach.
Hey God. Still need help.
Maybe I should change up my mindset.
I wonder if my legs will still work when I’m done with this.
At least my hands aren’t frozen to the oars.
Dear God, I’m thankful for the opportunity to realize how strong my body is.
I need more water.
Dear God, I’m grateful to realize how mentally tough I can be.
Dear God, I’m thankful to be able to do this race with such amazing, strong women.
Dear God, I am so glad we accidentally landed on this beautiful island 5 years ago.
I’m so thankful we live here.
I’m so thankful my body can do amazing things.
I don’t think I’m rowing again.
(3 miles to go)
I’m grateful.
I’m strong.
I’m blessed with amazing friends.
I’m thankful.
(100 strokes to go.)
I’m grateful for cheering strangers.
I’m grateful for cheering friends.
I’m grateful.
I still might die.
I’m grateful.
I’m grateful.
(We hit the beach.)
Dear God, we did it. I'm grateful.

With shaking legs, I can barely lift my oar out of the water. People approach our boat with smiles and hip hip hoorays and hugs and I cry. (Of course I cry! This should be a surprise to no one that knows me.) I hold my head in my hands and say more prayers of thanks and then jump in the water. (OH MY GREAT NEPTUNE THE WATER FELT GOOD.) I got to my phone and cried again when I caught up on all the virtual support I received from family miles and miles away who were tracking me with their phones. I needed it all.

Hitting the beach and setting our oars! Time to cry and eat some pulled pork.

We pass around hugs and small flutes of champagne. Our experienced coxswain, Suzyn, who has rowed and navigated this race more than once had her smiling husband there with a cooler. Other members from the club greeted us and told us they were going to row the boat back to the dock. (I didn’t know this was happening and was beyond the moon happy to hear this news.)

I made my way to the complimentary massage tent, then the food line for pulled pork and mac and cheese. I sat on the beach and watched other rowers and paddlers come in. Nearly everyone had their own cheering section. Hugs. Pictures. Congratulations. The Blackburn is no small feat.

I went home and hugged my little support crew and told them how happy it made me to see them on the rocks, cheering for mommy. Told them I couldn’t have finished without seeing their small little arms waving me on.

The next day, I was walking the dog and went by the very section of coastline I saw my family and those familiar twin lighthouses I see almost everyday from land. I watched the water hitting the rocks and remembered rowing by here. The pain and heat and discomfort seemed like a distant dream and I was overcome with an intense love for that water. All I could think about was the beautiful sound our six oars made as they hit the wooden pins in unison, mile after mile. Memories of the 5 voices behind me, encouraging each other, our cox in front of me, telling us we were rowing beautifully. The sunshine that day was glorious and made the water shimmer like magic. The day was magic. Despite it all, it was one of the most incredible experiences of my life.

24 hours after swearing I would never row again, I couldn’t wait to row again. I can’t wait to get back in that gig. I’m amazed and grateful what my body and mind are capable of. I’m amazed and grateful for the community of friends, family, and rowers that surrounded us that day and carried around the island. Thank you Suzyn for your experience and navigation. Grateful you were with us. Thank you Karen, Whitney, Jaime, Melanie and Jenny for your unyielding strength, courage, friendship and humor. I am honored to have finished this with each of you.

I think I told 8 different people, when they asked me immediately following the race if I would ever do it again. It was 8 different “hell nos” at the time. But time and sleep and being hydrated again are miracles and the ocean is calling me back.

So if you were one of those people that asked, I amend my response. Would I do The Blackburn again?

Yes. Without regret or hesitation, yes I would.