Sacramento. May 1999. NCAA Women’s Rowing Championships. First Semi-Final. Brown in Lane 4, Washington in Lane 3.

We had come a long way since September when we assembled as a young team rebuilding from the graduation of the previous year’s varsity 8. We had dominated the East Coast and natonally we were ranked second. None of that mattered anymore, we were to race the dominant unbeaten Huskies.

I was both anxious and excited; the wait for the starting commands was endless.Suddently the quiet starting line, where time stood still as boats continually readjusted their starting points, erupted in flurry as the official yelled “Go. ” Immediately I was racing, breathing, putting the oar in the water and driving through, just as we had practiced so many times.

As we settled into the rhythm of the race, our coxswain yelled that we were sitting one seat down. Never fast off the line, we were surprised and our confidence grew. Staying long in our stroke and aggressive in every drive we held our position. The two shells continued to surge, neither taking nor giving up water. Washington was waiting for us to fall back, we were waiting to break them. As we reached the last quarter of the race, we had two options. We could row safely, save energy and secure our spot in tomorrow’s final. We could hang with Washington, but could we beat them? If we didn’t do it today, could we re-build and do it tomorrow? Or, we could go for it. If we did this, would we have enough for tomorrow or would we give them fuel for revenge? The hunger in our boat made the choice obvious - we would not give them the victory.

With only minutes remaining, our coxswain made the call. We surged into Washington. Surprised, they fumbled, just enough to let us come even with their bow. The nine of us were holding even with the best crew in the country. Slowly at first and then faster, we moved, crushing their attempts to hold us. Although the last moments of the race are a blur, eyes closed, muscles burning, it felt good, better than any race or any practice. We didn’t care the price we had to pay, we just wanted more.

As we crossed the finish line, I refocused and was amazed to discover that we had beaten Washington by an unthinkable half a boat length. We tried to act cool, but inside I was bursting with pride as the UW rowers slumped over their oars. On the shore unbelieving parents and teammates waded in the water, waving their arms in victory.

My coxswain came over the loudspeaker, echoing what we all knew to be true: “Alright guys, we did it once, let´s get ready to do it when it matters.” We acted calmly as we rowed to the dock. But inside we knew we were fast and that we had not come this far for second place.