Individual Rowing

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Rowing was another thing Reef excelled at. He had an above average amount of upper body strength due to countless hours spent working on the boat, so his arms were strong and capable of rowing for as long as even a mile without getting too tired. This individual rowing race was 1500 meters, just shy of a mile, and he was very much looking forward to it. It was nicer, being out on the ocean rather than cooped up in the aquatics center as he had been for swimming races; as he breathed in the cool sea breeze and smelled the salty tang of his favorite place he felt rejuvenated, as if being here was enough to make him forget about the hundreds of people watching him and no doubt judging.

He had to admit, though, he was enjoying the experience of being here, competing. It was so much better than training for the Games, because he wasn't working up to something he dreaded, aiming to be chosen to go into an arena where he would surely be killed. Friendly competition. Why doesn't Panem do this more often? I could get used to this. The fifteen-year-old knew how implausible that thought was, though; maybe if this was a success President Snow would decide to hold it again, but he knew full well that it would never, ever take the place of the country's precious Hunger Games, the Capitol's most dominant and imposing show of power. The Games were here to stay; Reef had tried to get away from them once, and well... everyone knew how well that had worked out for him.

The District Four competitor lowered himself into his boat; he'd never rowed in one like this before, only small little wooden skiffs and dinghies, but he was sure it couldn't be that much more difficult. The motions were the same, and this boat felt even lighter and much more powerful. Reef tried to identify the feeling building up inside of him; was it excitement? Was he truly excited for something? Reef couldn't remember the last time he'd actually anticipated anything, let alone a competition in which far too many eyes were trained on him.

And then it was time to begin. He latched his hands onto the oars, examined his competition - nine other rowers - and prepared to begin. Bang! He was off.


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Tejas Richter
FILLER
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I was definitely out of my element. I don’t particularly know why I decided to sign up for rowing. I think it had something to do with wanting to compete with my little brother, which sounded good at that moment, but now that I’m sitting on the water with the oars in my hands, I realize I’ve made a mistake. I rub my sweaty hands on my shirt, crack my knuckles, and take up the oars again. I take a deep breath, and then I relax. I know I’m not winning a medal in this. I mean, how can I? Running was my sport.

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Ooc; This is Brigadier

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[/i] Katrina rowed as hard as she could, hearing the paddles slap the water repeatedly and churn up some water to splash her. This... this was going to be fun.
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