Appreciating the mornings that are left

Varsity coxwain Gloria Fong:

As my screeching alarm clock goes off at 4:30 a.m., after four and a half hours of sleep, I wonder why I do this to myself. It is similar to the feeling a rower gets when the pain is so excruciating that the thought of “what would happen if I just jumped out of the boat right now?” dances across your consciousness. I drag myself out of bed, and as I quickly walk down to Hass (in the dark, my biggest fear), my heart beats faster and faster. But every morning I feel foolish as I make it alive and well.

I hold my breath as we launch out into the abyss, into the darkness with nowhere to run. I clinch my teeth as I pray that my nervousness will not project into my voice.

As the sun begins to rise and reflects off the blades to warm my face I remember, I remember why I wake up. At that moment nothing can touch me — no stress from mid-terms, no responsibilities, no expectations, no masks —just a split millisecond of bliss and content. How many people do you know can say that they see the sunrise six days a week? How many people do you know see the dawn for all the glory that it deserves? How many people do you know feel like they’ve accomplished determination and discipline by the break of daylight?

As the dock approaches so does reality; my fantasy vanishes. I remember that day by day I am counting down my time on the water. I remember that day by day my crew career approaches its end. Life is composed of many chapters. Saying good bye is never easy. People come and go. But know that you have entrenched my heart with unforgettable memories and I hope I have given you good ones as well. But every chapter has to end for the next one to begin. Though these kindly unspoken words are never mentioned, are never praised, and are never taught, they are embodied in all good things. For all good things must come to an end, for it is only life.