Longer boats are coming to win us. Hold on to the shore.

A somewhat obscure and, depending on your interpretation, controversial Cat Stevens song popped into my head as I high-tailed it over the College Avenue bridge early Friday evening.

“Longer boats are coming to win us. They’re coming to win us. Hold on to the shore.”

Heading to a Learn to Row class with the Fox Valley Rowing Club, I knew exactly why those lyrics had made their way from the back of my head, where they’d been buried for 50 years.

I chuckled as I hustled over to the Telulah Park Boat Launch. I think I hummed a little too.

Then I caught site of the boat I’d be rowing . A sleek-looking eight-seated silver vessel, it looked a little cocky resting there on its rack. I accidentally brushed up against it and it wobbled dramatically.

I felt a little pit growing in my stomach and I wondered if I should take my friend Cat’s advice and hold on to the shore.

Our coach introduced herself with some pretty impressive credentials and I settled down a little. What I learned about the Appleton Rowing Club is that it is full of excellent rowers who are passionate about their sport.

I also learned that rowing is a life sport, which is great because my whole rowing experience was inspired by a 60th birthday challenge I had issued to myself. I want to learn six new sports this year because, well, because I can.

I, and many other people aged 60 and over, are here to tell you that, though we may be nearly elderly, we are not old.

Rowing is the first new sport on my list. Until this past weekend, I’d never even sat on a rowing machine and I don’t remember the last time I clutched an oar in my hand, but it may have been the Girl Scout Camp I attended in sixth grade.

As our instructor Carrie went through her initial presentation, it dawned on me that we’d have to lift that vessel, hoist it overhead and carry it down to the water. I don’t know how I thought the boat would get down there but, embarrassingly, I had not considered that we’d be hefting that bad boy and toting it down to the water.

(Honestly, that part turned out to be way easier than I’d imagined, thanks to the veterans on our team. But it definitely concerned me.)

We headed down to the water and learned how to enter and exit the boat, how to slide our oars into the oarlocks, and how to execute various strokes on command.

Saturday morning we put our lessons to the test during a three-hour jaunt up and down the river. Just as I thought I might be getting the hang of all that squaring and feathering, I glanced up.

I’m not sure what caught my eye — a swooping eagle? A passing paddleboat? The drone floating overhead? All I know is, in that one moment, I managed to both “catch a crab” and “jump the slide,” which was pretty humiliating. On the plus side, I was able to perch on one hand while I eventually shimmied my seat back onto its track and slid my oar back into the lock.

But the whole boat had to wait while I did it.

So, that was not ideal.

I have no pictures of my experience. That whole rowing crew seemed pretty serious (which is how you want people who are about to launch you into a swift river to be). I didn’t want to distract anyone by asking to take pictures.

But, the next morning I did take some pictures of club members doing their thing and I hope you’ll enjoy them.

In the meantime, I am going to admire the bad-ass little thumb blister I’ve named Hubris while I ready myself for my next adventure.

I’ll keep you posted.