There are few things guaranteed to make an injured rower feel sorry for themselves quite like opening Facebook on a beautiful Gold Coast morning and seeing photos of everyone else out on the lake.

Flat water. Blue skies. Smiling crews.

Wonderful.

For those of us who have recently found ourselves temporarily relegated from rower to spectator thanks to injuries, operations and various bits of the body deciding they’ve had enough, it’s been a challenging few months.

Stage One: Optimism

At first, being told you can’t row doesn’t sound too bad.

A few weeks off. A chance to rest. No early alarm. No carrying boats. No wondering whether you’ve remembered your water bottle before leaving home.

You might even enjoy a leisurely Saturday morning coffee while everyone else is down at the lake.

This feeling lasts approximately three days.

Stage Two: FOMO

Then the photos start appearing.

Apparently, while you’ve been sitting at home doing exactly what the doctor ordered, the lake has transformed into the most perfect rowing venue in Australia.

The water is glass. The weather is glorious. Everyone is rowing beautifully. And if that wasn’t bad enough, my husband has taken to rather smugly announcing, “I’m going rowing” every time he heads out the door, as though I’m remotely interested.

I’m not. Obviously.

(Of course I am. I’m completely jealous.)

Even worse, GCMR has taken delivery of a new boat. A NEW BOAT.

While some of us are still negotiating the exciting milestone of being allowed to lift something heavier than a kettle, a lucky few have already been out putting our latest addition through its paces.

We’re delighted for them, obviously. Absolutely delighted.

Stage Three: Bargaining

This is when the injured rower begins looking for loopholes. The doctor said no rowing for six weeks… but did they mean proper rowing? What about a gentle paddle? What about sitting in the boat while somebody else does most of the work? What if the water is particularly flat?

Unfortunately, sensible clubmates and family members tend to intervene at this point with irritating comments such as, “You don’t want to undo all your recovery.” Apparently not.

Stage Four: Becoming an Expert from the Sidelines

One unexpected benefit of not being able to row is that your technical expertise increases dramatically. From the safety of dry land, it becomes remarkably easy to spot what everybody else is doing wrong. Timing looks a little out. Someone’s rushing the slide. Was that blade height entirely consistent?

You may not currently be capable of getting into a boat yourself, but this should in no way prevent you from offering helpful observations to those who can.

Stage Five: The Comeback

Eventually, though, the countdown begins. The body starts behaving itself again. Restrictions are gradually lifted. The possibility of getting back into a boat starts to feel real.

And strangely enough, all those things we occasionally complain about – the early mornings, carrying boats, cold feet, aching muscles and the inevitable debate over who is sitting where – suddenly sound rather appealing.

Because as much as rowing is about fitness and competition, it’s also about being out on the water with your crew and being part of the club.

So to everyone currently sitting on the injured list: behave yourselves, do your rehab and try not to spend too much time looking at rowing photos.

And to everyone currently enjoying perfect mornings on the lake and our shiny new boat…

We’ll be back. And we’re calling dibs on the new boat.