Rags to Riches

Ergometer--An instrument for measuring work or energy.

The freshman oarsman lay sprawled on the Newell boathouse floor. The ergometer (rowing machine) he had challenged to a five-minute bout had gallantly thrown him to the floor before relinquishing its dying gasp. Its life line, in the form of a broken cable, had been severed. The Erg was dead.

And, as one oarsman put it, in a scene right out of the Wizard of Oz, the oarsmen began gathering around the Wicked Witch of Newell celebrating the victory of the dazed yardling rower. "We won! The Erg is dead."

What is it about this rather innocent contraption that can lead crowds to cheer its defeat or induce lightweight oarsman Bill Chapman to respond to its mere mention with a vehement "I hate fuckin' ergs."

The ergometer, you see, is the rowing world's answer to running in place. It is a machine which simulates on-the-water rowing, with two notable exceptions. First, the machine doesn't go anywhere so the rower is in a constant upstream battle to maintain his or her power throughout the "erg-piece." And the second damning quality of this mainstay-in-the-winter-wonderland-of-rowing is its ability to spit back a "strength score" into the face of the vanquished rower.

And while Robin Lothrop, a Radcliffe varsity oarswoman, points out that the erg "can only measure one's brute strength and not one's rowing ability," the waves of its psychological impact are felt throughout both Weld and Newell boathouses.

"Looking at the score of the guy next to you erging is what gets you through the winter," Chapman said. "The whole game is making the boat, and the erg is an important part of that."

Fortunately, the erg is just one aspect to the indoor rowing scene. Daily workouts down by the riverside include weightlifting, splashes in the indoor tanks, and treks up and down the seats of Harvard stadium. Last Saturday, for instance, John Higginson's lightweight varsity contingent headed up the Soldiers Field steps 75 times, which, according to one oarsman, is equivalent to climbing the stairs of the Empire State building twice over.

One of Higginson's stadia streakers, Gil Welch, said, "Freshman year of the erg was the worst thing I ever experienced, but now I'm on top of it and it's not that bad I much prefer it to stadiums--they're the worst."

So, be it erg pieces or stadia, winter rowing seems to spell misery for those stout-hearted souls who insist on outlasting the ice on the Charles River. "You always think of quitting in the winter," four-year oarswoman Roxanne Malenbaum said, "and I'm not sure why I don't, because I can't tell you I love

"Cliffe lightweight coach Peter Huntsman explains that during the early winter months newcomers will often overdose from too much crew and eventually quit cold turkey. "Our greatest attrition is in January when people who weren't that serious in the fall realize they aren't in competition. We try to increase the workload in February and keep it a pretty intense situation."

Despite the intensity all squads at all levels are still boasting close to three boatloads of oarsfolk. Barbara Pearce, a senior lightweight, made the unusual move this year of switching from coxswaim to oarswoman.

"I was doing my thesis this year and coxing is such a mental thing, and rowing is so physical that I thought it would be a good release to switch."

"It worked, too, the day I was most frustrated about my thesis was the day of my highest erg score. Rowing's even helped me finish my thesis before my April deadline."

As Pearce is speaking, the relentless whirr and click of the ergometer starts up. Heavyweight Karen Oberhauser begins battling the speedometer-like gauge staring her in the face. The needle shoots up at the outset of her fresh and powerful strokes and then slowly as the ten-minute pace wears`on and the inevitable decline begins. Oberhauser has a trance-like expression throughout the piece, seemingly oblivious to the prodding of coxswain Nancy Hadley. Her piece ends and she staggers past two first-year women looking on apprehensively.

Rookie Suzanne Boyce voices her early impressions of the erg, "I remember hearing all sorts of scary stories of people getting off the erg and throwing up but it's not quite that bad, although a ten-minute piece seems like hours."

Freshman Cathy Dement remembers the horror stories also, but the fall rowing proved to be enough incentive to stick out the winter. "I just loved being on the water in the fall and pushing myself to my limits, and so far the winter just hasn't been that bad."

Ergo, while Bill Chapman may not mind winter rowing he still insists, "I hate that fucking erg."