Losing my sculling cherry

First sculling regatta is tomorrow. 8:15 start time, 3 lanes, floating start, no coxwain, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Friend of mine asked, "What's your race plan?" Race plan? Are you fucking kidding me? The race plan is to not collide with any other boats and not flip over. If I manage that, I'll be really happy. There isn't even a novice category, so I'm competing in the women's open. OPEN. Fuck me. I've been sculling for a month. Count that: one. And I've spent exactly 2 hours in the presence of a coach in that time. This has been a complete experiment. They gave me a boat and two oars and said, "Knock yourself out, kid." Jesus H. Christ what the fuck am I doing. 8:15. That means launch by 7:30, which means arrive by 7, which means leave the house by 6, which means up at 5:30. And hopefully the prunes tonight do their job so I can start tomorrow with an empty system. By 8:30 tomorrow this will all be over, one way or another. That's less than 12 hours. My stomach can hold out for 12 hours. I think. Oh, god...