TRAINING AND THE ROWING TYPE Oarsmen of these days have little idea of the torments of the flesh to which their predecessors submitted themselves with the idea that they were preparing to the best advantage for a boat race. The styles of rowing have changed, but no change has taken place more revolutionary than that in the methods of fitting men.
Somehow or other the men of bygone days gained the idea that reserve flesh was bad for the athlete, and the whole training was taken with the idea of reducing the men to skin and bones ; they were worked so hard and kept on such a diet that we of to-day wonder how they rowed at all. The training was modelled after that of the prize fighter who had to get down to a certain weight, and the ordeal was doubtless good for the sort of man who needed to have a great deal of fat taken off him and was none the worse for a thorough steaming of the bar-room life. But it took many years to convince college men that such was not the way to train, and the change was due largely to the efforts of William Blaikie, the old Harvard oar.
The training of Wilbur Bacon's crew at Yale is an example of the old way. That crew rose each morning at six, and then, in heavy flannels, ran from three to five miles on empty stomachs ; in the forenoon they would row from four to six miles and do the same distances in the afternoon, and these rows were not easy paddles, but hard, stiff trials mostly on time. They ate underdone beef and mutton, with the blood running from it, with now and then a few potatoes or rice, but no other vegetable, and drank weak tea in small quantities.
Since the taking of water was apt to put back the weight that had been lost through perspira tion, the men were given only what they posi tively could not do without, and the best trainer was he who could train without water. The absolute limit was one glass for breakfast, two for dinner, and one for supper, and they had none between meals. The agony of such a course when men were rowing in the hot sun and perspiring freely can be imagined, and it was further increased by the prohibition of baths ; some coaches would not permit their men to bathe for three weeks or more before a race. The results of this system are well
given by Mr. Blaikie, who says : " No wonder that, with such a lack of variety of nutrition, sore boils broke out on them until we heard of one man who had seventy-three. No wonder that men could not sleep, and, getting up at mid night, and faithful to their orders, not slaking their burning thirst, would bathe their heads and necks for the relief it brought ! No wonder that men rebelled and wet their lips occasionally when the law said no. We had the pleasure of rowing once in the same crew with a man who told us that, during the whole six weeks of train ing, he had not drunk one drop of water ! Is it strange that a great abscess broke out on his thigh, and that he rowed his race while in such a fever that his physician had, the day before, ordered him to bed !" The Harvard crew of 1866 was the first to break through this foolish theory, and they trained with the idea of keeping all the flesh that they could and at the same time do the work ; they won. But it was not until the eighties that the force of the older rules was completely broken; the present sensible training is yet younger.
The training of to-day keeps in mind the fact that the oarsman is human, and that he will not row well when fagged. Therefore he is given just enough work to take the fat from him, and to allow him to exert his best efforts over the course with the reserve strength for a hard finish. The weak ening run before breakfast has passed away, though over in England they still take a morning run, strengthened by a cup of tea and a cracker; running has, indeed, almost passed from our train ing, and is now only taken in the early season. A little running is probably good for a crew so long as it does not stiffen their muscles, for it will strengthen the all-important legs.