For one of the five women on Team 8Oars, the journey took some unexpected turns but was at least a meaningful as anticipated.

It was 4 a.m. when we pulled into Fay Bainbridge State Park. We were wiped out—cold, wet, tired. Our bodies were so confused. “What are you doing? It’s dark. Why aren’t you asleep?” Our minds were working overtime to surmount the urge to just call it. Why go further? I mean really, 35 miles is a pretty darn good accomplishment. We could be satisfied with that. Moreover,  I had exhausted my repertoire of song lyrics, which started with “American Pie”, eventually switched to nursery rhymes, and ended with “Lollipop – Lollipop”. 

We started this year’s SEVENTY48 race strong. Heather cox’ed our team of five on a WinTech35—a four-seat rowing shell with a coxswain—beautifully across the starting line in Tacoma’s vibrant Foss Waterway on Friday, June 29, and Team 8Oars were off. In sync, squaring our blades together, catching at the same time—man, it was a beautiful thing. Hands, body, knees, catch… hands, body, knees, catch. Stroke after stroke, we left the lights of the city behind and journeyed into the deepening dusk toward Port Townsend 70 miles north. 

We were dressed to row hard, get sweaty and keep on going. I had on a pair of wool leggings, a sports bra, and a thin wind layer. And then, as we were passing the Point Defiance ferry terminal we began to feel the northerly wind funneling down through the channel. Wind against tide. We caught the first of many waves hitting us from what felt like every direction. All five of us were getting soaked. This is where we learned lesson number one: Layer up first. It’s easier to take off layers and be dry.  

Then, with the chop sloshing into the small, open cockpit of our rowing shell, we realized we had forgotten our bilge pump. We had our pee buckets, but they could only scoop a little bit of water because the foot stretchers occupied the foot wells. Lesson number two: It’s always good to do a final check before departure. Duh!

Hands, body, knees, catch. We kept on going, still in sync. Bodies wet, feet in cold standing water. Three hours in, we pulled ashore on the east side of Colvos Passage at Lisabuela to switch cox. The intermittent gunwale walk we had planned to rotate positions without going ashore was not going to work in choppy water with cold, wet bodies lacking normal dexterity.  We layered up, bailed, peed, snacked, and drank some water. 

Off again after a reinvigorating reset, we were warmish, feet were dryish, and the conditions were finally perfect-ish. Gotta be somewhere, and our somewhere was rowing toward the north end of Colvos in the dark of night. It felt like we were toward the front of the pack, but we really didn’t know. We were navigating on our Navionics track line while also avoiding other racers whose stern lights looked like fireflies or maybe floating lanterns after a funeral. We were definitely mourning our bilge pump. 

There were so many boats of different shapes, sizes, and forms of propulsion—133 teams in total. Fellow participants of different ages, experience, training, and motivations. And by the end of the race, no doubt unique experiences would be formed by each stroke, pedal, or paddle. We shared the experience of being part of SEVENTY48, a part of this community of adventurers; but how we each defined that experience would be a personal choice. 

Still at Fay Bainbridge State Park at 5:15 a.m., the eastern sky brightened as I held a cup of hot chocolate and nestled under a blanket in a camp chair, my empty Cup o’ Noodles tucked next to me. All of these comforts were provided by two wonderful Race Volunteer Fairies. One of our crew was tucked-in and sleeping in the Fairies’ van. Three others, also in chairs with blankets, looked much more comfortable than I felt. My awkward attempts to nap with my head supported by the back of my PFD left me in a position that would never have gotten approval from my chiropractor. My eyes were closed but, instead of drifting off, I found myself thinking about next year’s race and what I would do differently. Disappointment set in. I began to wonder, were we really calling it? Were we really done? While I was ready to continue, being part of a team is just that, you do what is best for the whole. We called the Race Boss. We were out. 

It was at that moment that my race experience began. I know. Weird, but true. For me, the discomfort was no longer that my feet had been cold and wet for 10 hours, but rather that I was not going to finish something I had started. But something else had begun.  

My whole life, I have been inspired by being part of something larger than me—connecting to myself while also connecting with others; learning through my experiences. And that’s what our 2026 SEVENTY48 has done. It’s another notch on the ol’ growth stick that reminds me of something I heard recently and I’d paraphrase: “The amount of growth you can achieve in your life is directly proportional to the amount of discomfort you’re able to tolerate.” I absolutely love that sentiment! That was lesson number three: This is a beginning, not an ending.

In the time since we decided to stop racing, I have proudly told our story to friends and family. Each time, I can hear and feel how excited I am to do it again, what I will do differently next time, and how much I value my connection to a team and eagerly look forward to whatever team I may adventure with next year. 

We didn’t finish, but that is not my SEVENTY48 story. It’s that I started.  

Interested in more SEVENTY48 coverage? Don’t miss the Race Boss’s recap. 

Title background photo by Rachel Bradley.