The Club's Results

First time racing in a IV+ for most of us, with only having scratch crews this week. Despite getting overtaken by a J18 VIII+ on the reach, we were still the fastest men's College IV+, beating our only competitor, a Clare Alumni boat. The only other IV+-s who beat us were the city crews Toot Toot, Beep Beep and Ding Ding. Maybe next time we will try to come up with a better crew name, steer straight on Plough Reach and put our legs down even after 4 minutes into the race. Nevertheless, we are proud to collect our shot glasses as a token of our achievement. (Csongor Beke)

This was perhaps not the cleanest of races (though I rather regret the lack of William Connolley's drone footage - despite it hovering above us during the race, his uploaded footage begins only at Jesus M2, who set off behind us). 

However, in terms of want for speed/cox responsiveness (thank you Mate for stepping in on such short notice to cox this, you legend), this was excellent. Not since Winter Head 2022 have I felt such a series of pushes in a crew. There would have been a good meme format opportunity here: 
"M2 before Ditton" vs "M2 after Ditton" with your favourite before/after meme format used, where the after is noticeably better, but I do not wish to crash this website. 
After Ditton, we pushed. We proceeded to have another push off the railings, at the whitehouse, into the railway bridge, off the railway bridge (including Morgan (at str) shouting "build, build") intending to fly for the finish from there, which we then did from the P&E, building all the way to a "majestic" (and far too foreshortened for what it was) 34 or thereabouts by the finish.

Slow? Yes.
Yanking with the arms at the finish? Yes.
Bomber telling us that we'd have gone 20 seconds faster had we finished in a more relaxed fashion (he didn't see us after the railway bridge...)? Yes.
Still losing by 25 seconds to Jesus M2, who we're going to row away from so hard on the first day of bumps that we accidentally hit the crew in front while styling on them? Yes.
We had commitment, and as of right now that's not a bad thing to have in spades. 

- despite being over a minute slower than when I won this in M1 two years ago, this race felt like it had more potential, and we beat last year's M2 by over 35 seconds, and we know how they ended up...

We finished the race, and I think that everyone in the boat felt both shattered and happy. It's an OK place to be. Thanks everyone for being there! 

As a side note, 5 and 6 are indebted to a certain individual out running around the top of the reach, whose presence "made it feel like I had to row better - 5" and made me smile, thus reducing perceived effort (I'm trying this out for my next 2K...)
(Thomas Frith)

Computing Officer's Note: The 2nd division and the lower divisions were merged due to lack of entries. (Rosie)

I am back to do it all again,

Trying to blot out memories of earlier pain.

To send it down the course in hopes of gain,

On a winning crew’s campaign.

To beat W1B was our goal,

Everything was in our control.

To pull something extra from the depths of my soul,

With the aim of fulfilling my role.

Working hard to push the puddles away,

We all silently had our say.

Rowing in both meant a waste of my day,

But it also meant that I won either way.

Going to collect the glass

Was a feeling hard to surpass.

Two years in a row we have been class,

As tankards on my shelf continue to amass.

(Zara Bek)

First race back, a 06:30 alarm,

Rowing has a certain charm.

At the boathouse all was calm,

Except the blisters on my palm.

Down to marshalling, never late.

Make sure that you’ve done up your gate.

A delayed start- so then we wait.

Finally we row up and do not hesitate.

Nothing happened before first post, a lacklustre show,

After that we dug in and on we row.

Arms, bodies, legs- moving with the flow.

Pushing, clinging on, waiting for the whistle to blow.

Having never rowed in this combination before,

Anxiously waiting to hear our score,

We finished the race hungry for more,

Then paddled home, tugging on the oar.

(Zara Bek)