Drumbeats trigger me. My pulse races when I see brightly colored dragons or boat paddles. It’s an uncontrollable reflex, symbolic of something that had been smoldering in my heart since the last Dragon Boat Festival in China when I first shared what floats my dragon boat. This one experience of paddling a dragon boat sparked something in my soul. The brightly painted dragon heads with their fierce expressions, ready to charge down the river, powered by passionate paddlers moving and breathing in unison are a strong symbol of culture and teamwork.
The first one in the water was…
Ever since my experience with Dragonheart Vermont 13 years ago, I’ve been dying to get back on a team. As a foreigner in China, I assumed I would find ample opportunities to paddle. I was wrong, but as an admirer of the sport, I still found opportunities to learn about the festival and its roots.
Dragon boating began after a politically charged suicide that happened sometime between 600-200 B.C. A beloved poet, aristocrat and prime minister named Qu Yuan drowned himself in the Miluo River after he learned that his homeland in Hunan Province had been surrendered to enemies in a terrible war.
His fellow townspeople frantically rowed out to save him in their boats, and this was the start of the boat races. They also tossed rice dumplings in the river to stave off hungry fish and protect Qu Yuan’s body until it could be recovered – creating the origin of the famous dragon boat festival dumpling “zongzi” – but that’s a story for another time.
We left China for Europe in 2023 and although dragon boating is really catching on as an international sport around the world, I had written off paddling for the time being since we were leaving what I considered “the homeland” of it. Our time in Istanbul, Turkey, pleasantly surprised me when two good friends of ours included me in their sports club (“spor kulübü” in Turkish) and let me join their crew team.
My path to the boat wasn’t a straight one
I had never rowed on a crew boat before and was occasionally cautious of the thin boats. When I felt we were listing to one side or another, I’d shift my weight ever-so-slightly, possibly gasp or make a noise and then Dr. Cemil would say “don’t worry, dear.” Dr. Ahmet would interject with a “you’re fine, mate” and our boat always righted itself, cruising along the Küçükçekmece Lake canal. Rowing on this crew team was nothing like paddling a dragon boat, but it did evoke some warm feelings of comraderie and teamwork.
It’s more of a love/fear relationship
I’ve always had a healthy respect for the water, arising from nearly drowning when I was a small child – shout out to Grandpa Reddinger for scooping me up and always having his protective arms at the ready – but I’m learning to find peace in unstable conditions. Most recently, our crew boat washed up on the rocky shoreline when we exited the canal on the wrong day. Our inexperienced captain had commanded us out into the Sea of Marmara on a particularly gusty morning.
Seated furthest forward in the boat in the first rower’s seat, I was also the first to hit the rocks. We bobbed and crashed there while the other three rowers and the captain yelled at each other in Turkish. Their frantic planning lasted only a few minutes but felt longer. A calm washed over me, a peace stronger than the waves and my fear. I folded my oars across my lap and waited for any instruction I could hear in English.
Eventually Dr. Cemil, in the second rower’s seat, turned around and told me we were grabbing our oars and abandoning the boat. I unlocked my oars and stepped out into the cold ocean water between some rocks, steadying myself the best I could between the wind and my adrenaline. We all made it back to the sport club building, soaked but safe.
The safe haven on the island of Taiwan
Fast forward to when we settled in Taiwan in March 2024, I thought I might have another shot at paddling a dragon boat. Taiwan and China’s history is complicated and can get intense if you’re discussing it with certain people, but I hoped they would at least share the rich history and integrity of dragon boating. Thankfully, my hopes and dreams came true.
We joined a few Facebook groups for foreigners in Taiwan and through one of them, I found someone who “knew a guy on a team.” Eventually, I was able to hook up with the local college team from National Sun Yat-Sen University (NSYSU.) Kim and I went to cheer them on in June, as I was too late to join in on that competition. Luckily I had a few months to work out and condition with the team in the five months preceding the City Cup in November.
Some are conditioning at summer conditioning
Made of a variety of people of different ages, ethnicities and backgrounds, this team was one of the most diverse experiences I’ve ever had. Among the 23-ish of us, I was the only one not officially affiliated with the college. (In other words, I was the oldest.) That being said, I was also one of the fittest.
We did drills and circuits together on the soccer pitch at the college two nights a week. Together, we sat alongside the campus pool and did paddling drills on two different nights. We rented a dragon boat and paddled for 2 hours at a time on a handful of Saturdays. I proved myself strong enough to sit in the first chair and be a pacer, setting the tempo for the rest of the boat. My heart felt uncertainty over this responsibility. I lacked the confidence but accepted it and took it seriously.
How to paddle with your heart in your throat
I’ll go ahead and say it right now, I struggled as a leader to set a sustainable pace. I couldn’t temper my excitement and probably paddled too fast. We did not even come close to winning the City Cup and our lack of synchronization played a part in that.
However, we did finish all our heats and overcame challenges we didn’t even practice, such as maneuvering our boat at the dock’s starting line. It seemed the other teams devoted a lot of time to parking. We could barely handle moving forward together, much less sideways and backwards. But it was an exhilarating experience overall, one that I will never forget.
Is participation worth a prize?
The slight fatigue and sweet memories served as fulfilling souvenirs of this experience of finally paddling a dragon boat again. As our race weekend drew to a close, I knew we weren’t earning any medals or rewards for our performance. The truest rewards are internal anyway, right?
We assembled one last time for our final team picture in front of the city’s banner onstage. Three women with trays of medals approached and shocked me as they handed them to my team. As the medal hung around my neck – my first participation trophy – I felt its weight and considered all the time, effort and money we had collectively donated. Until this point, I had adamantly opposed handing out rewards to everyone. We didn’t win so we did not deserve a prize, right?
I remembered the hours spent sweating it out on the soccer field and the miles I biked to and from practices and conditioning meet-ups. We may not have been the fastest boat on the water, but we paddled the best we could with our wild, beating hearts. And maybe that deserved some tangible acknowledgement lasting longer than sore muscles.
