Imagine the scene. You have just graduated from a four-year college and are probably still feeling the effects of celebrating with your friends and families. Or more likely it’s something else that has you wondering if you can muster all that you know your body can do. This is the final test. You won’t get the chance to do it again. If everything goes as planned, and as you have worked for months now, it will all be over in seven minutes and hopefully less.

You’ll be seated for this test, but you can’t afford to take it easy mentally or physically. In fact, when it’s over, regardless how you perform, you’ll be drained, and if you’re not, you’ll probably feel crushed, like you could have squeezed a little bit more out of your body and that could have made the difference.

The good thing is, you’re not alone. There are eight other students with you. Some may have crossed the stage to receive their degree as you did. If everything works out, others will have the opportunity to return next year.

The fact they are here is both reassuring and a responsibility. You’ve all come this far together and each of you couldn’t have done it alone. And what you’re about to undertake depends on them. You’re there for them and in your heart you know they are there for you.

Then there are the elements you can’t control: the wind, the rain, the temperature and the others on this watery course. You can only pray that you all will be equally treated.

I was wondering if that would be the case when I clicked on the live stream link Saturday, May 31, to watch the finals in the NCAA Women’s Division III rowing championships at Mercer Lake in West Windsor, New Jersey. It was blowing and the camera captured six boats, their sterns forming a line against a dock. The lens was pocked with rain drops. I strained to pick out my granddaughter, Lucy, as commentators gave the lineup. She was there in the middle of the Tufts boat, but I couldn’t be certain it was the right woman among all of them with their arms outstretched and knees pulled up against their chests, ready to exert that first stroke that would take them on a 2,000-meter course.

Each of the boats had placed first or second in heats held Friday. Commentators made it clear this would be a different race. For starters, the wind made it more challenging. But this would be a tight race as teams had already proven their prowess to earn a place in the finals.

Tall, like her parents, Jack and Jen, Lucy did not plan on rowing in college. She played basketball in high school and if she was going into athletics that would have been an easy fit. She rises to challenges. Then, too, there is some family history to rowing. Jack graduated from Tufts and took up rowing for a first time at the school. It was attending those regattas that hooked me on the sport, although I have never had the experience of rowing in an eight as he and Lucy have.

As a freshman, Lucy decided to see what rowing was all about. She almost bailed out from the beginning. Unlike many others trying out, Lucy had not rowed in high school or recreationally. The coach really had some raw material, but apparently was ready to give her a try. After some brief instructions, Lucy joined a group in a boat.

These boats are light. They can be very tippy and they’re all of about six inches above the water. The seats roll forward and back so you can maximize your strength into your stoke. Lucy fell off the seat, but that was just the beginning. Oars can be unwieldy. They’re more than 10 feet long and require feathering when out of the water in preparation for the next catch. Failing to do so, as the lingo goes, “is catching a crab.” That can throw off the rhythm of the team and physically lift an oarsman from the boat and into the water. Lucy caught plenty of crabs. Fortunately, she stayed in the boat. She was embarrassed and considered quitting. But she stayed on, worked at it, and in her junior year was named captain.

Tufts women rowing, and for that matter Tufts men, don’t have the reputation of a powerhouse. That’s changing. The women won the Head of the Charles in 2023 and for the first time won the NCAAs last spring in Ohio. Lucy’s first varsity boat won and the second varsity scored enough points for the overall team to win the championship. This year they had hopes of both boats placing first.

This year, Tufts’ second varsity boat pulled off firsts in the Friday heat and in the finals the following morning. It was up to Lucy’s boat to make it a sweep.

Pressure must have been intense as was their focus taking that first stroke and the nearly 200 that followed. Tufts jumped off with a half-boat lead. It was difficult to know where Tufts stood since different perspectives of the course put them slightly ahead or in the middle of the pack. The commentators added drama to the event. Williams had picked up their stroke, closing the narrow gap to Tufts. And then it was Bates that was closing in on Williams. It was confusing; who was going to win?

Carol and I cheered as the finish line came into view. The crowd was yelling. Boats disappeared from the screen as they finished. In the excitement had we correctly heard who had won? Jack and Jen’s phone call confirmed it.

Tufts beat Williams by about two seconds. Such a thin margin, perhaps no more than a single stroke. The strategy to get an early jump and push through the rough water had paid off, a departure from the conventional tactic to conserve power until the close of the race. It was a demonstration of a commitment to training, team building and risk taking that Lucy [and I might add her grandparents] can be proud of for a lifetime.