Indoor-rowing Ergomania contest hurts so good all over

The first thing that comes to mind when witnessing the indoor-rowing event known as Ergomania is this: Why?

In fact, good luck getting that thought out of your head at all. Because "erging," as afficionados call it, is an utterly miserable affair.

That's right. Miserable.

"It's like hell. Only 10 times worse," said Emma Metzger, a senior at Holy Names Academy.

And yet there she was on Saturday, pulling until she was ready to collapse. The annual contest attracted about 425 entrants, ranging from teens to senior citizens, to Seattle University's Connolly Center. They compete in various categories and distances, but the basic goal is simple: pull as hard as you can. Whoever gets the fastest time wins.

"You have to want to hurt," Metzger noted.

The din in the gym is magnificent.

"Go, Andrew!"

"Go, Alex!"

"Go, Tyler!"

"Go! Go! Go!"

The rowers are red-faced and breathless. One muscular young man looks as if he's going to cry.

They stare straight ahead, at the little screen that tells them their pace, and the big screen that shows how they're measuring up against others in their heat.

And then, when the race is over, they fall to the floor, spent.

"I'm surprised there aren't more puke buckets around," mused Tyler Sell, a 17-year-old who came all the way up from Ashland, Ore., to compete in the 2,000-meter event. The best athletes finish that race in six or seven minutes, depending on age, gender and weight class.

And while that may not sound like much, you have to realize that this is a six-minute sprint. What other sport features a sprint that long?

To be competitive, you need the strength of a weightlifter, the endurance of a runner and the mental toughness of a wrestler.

Long legs don't hurt, either.

After her race, 17-year-old Kyla Dammann, of Ashland, does a quick survey.

"Everything hurts," she said.

"My throat.

"My hands.

"My legs.

"My feet."

After his race, Alex Johnson, a senior at Bishop Blanchet High School who rows for Pocock Rowing Center, has a slightly different assessment.

"You can barely hear," he said. "Your eyesight goes out. It's nerve-wracking in the beginning, but you gotta just swallow it and go."

Sell had this to say: "Marathoners hit the wall on the 23rd mile. Rowers hit the wall at 500 meters. At about 1,000, you feel like you can't go any further, but you can't give up. Therefore, you're going to die."

Again, the question arises: Why?

Because come spring, you're going to get out on the water, and you're going to glide.

"It's the most peaceful, meditative sport I've ever been in," Sell said.

And then he slumped against the wall, clutching a trash bin.

Maureen O'Hagan: 206-464-2562 or mohagan@seattletimes.com