Type II Fun: Enjoying the Journey on the Water & In the Courtroom
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On my command, we place our hands on the frostbitten edges of the dock and firmly press away. The sun is already plummeting below the skyline and turning the water a loathsome shade of black. A dense fog conceals stray debris as it settles atop the lake. One tragic swipe against the jagged arms of a log will send our prized boat – and her human cargo – plunging into frigid waters. I grimace as a formidable gusting wind, heavy with icy particles, bites unforgivingly at my exposed skin. Roiling, heaving waves cause large swaths of caustic lake water to leap into the boat. It is impossible to ignore the water pooling at our feet as it sloshes rhythmically from bow to stern. I briefly nudge the tiller to port side and bark a terse command. “PUSH,” I shout, like a battle cry against the wind and the mounting fatigue of my rowers. These are the kind of dreadful conditions that cause dozens of seasoned athletes to quit.
As a walk-on athlete, my journey to collegiate rowing was anything but ordinary. Prior to college, I had zero experience in the sport. But it was through rowing that I came to learn of my addiction to Type II fun. Contrary to common belief, fun is not binary. Outdoor adventurers and ice climbing aficionados describe fun in three distinct types.
Type I fun is everything encapsulated in the Oxford Dictionary definition of fun – purely enjoyable, amusing, and pleasant. On the other end of the scale, Type III fun is entirely miserable. It can start as a great idea, but because of a reckless disregard for reality, naïveté, or arrogance it spirals into disaster. Going on an adventurous hike without a map might feel liberating, but getting lost overnight without shelter is not fun. Somewhere between exists the elusive and ethereal challenge of Type II fun. It is wholly miserable while it’s happening, but, perhaps due in part to the rosy veil afforded by time, post event reflections carry a certain fondness and pride in accomplishment that Types I and III lack. Rowing is unequivocally a paragon of Type II fun.
There is nothing enviable about stifling chattering teeth while bailing buckets of foul lake water from your boat in a desperate attempt to prevent sinking. There is no glory in leaving a trail of water behind you and a puddle in your seat because you didn’t have time to change between practice and class. It is not uncommon for rowers to pass out when pain and lactic acid overwhelm sheer determination.
Countless practices I sat in the coxswain’s seat heavy with soggy clothing, pummeled and punished by the relentless wind, and so cold my bones could practically shatter in place. Admittedly, conditions were so demanding that I was frequently plagued by thoughts of quitting. Yet I subdued my own doubt to convince my rowers we were immune to frustration, we were impervious to the conditions, and we were built of the kind of Herculean willpower necessary to persist stroke after stroke.
Despite its heinous nature, I came to appreciate Type II fun as the most rewarding and enriching because it creates the opportunity to sacrifice comfort for growth. For me, Type II fun is a gift and a reminder to earn what I deserve through toil and perseverance.
By choosing to bury my own misery, I found it possible to embolden, uplift, lead, and serve the women around me. During my first year as captain, I had earned a voice on the team and my teammates were ready to listen. My message: gratitude for the opportunity to seize discomfort in pursuit of excellence. By fostering a team culture with an affinity for Type II fun, we were no longer straightjacketed by a mindset of merely overcoming the failure and pain that are certainties in our sport. We created a new paradigm that invited adversity, fiercely assumed ownership of our challenges, and we pushed our boat off the dock every day intent to earn the outcome we deserved.
A future dedicated to legal justice parallels my experience as a collegiate coxswain. I was the first in my family to attend a private four-year university; first to become a Division I student-athlete; first to be awarded a scholarship; and I will surely bear inescapable signs of novice experience as the first in my family to practice law. Through a career dedicated to criminal justice, I will use my affinity for Type II fun to embolden, uplift, and serve underprivileged communities that deserve what they have already earned in sweat and sacrifice. I welcome a career where I may be afforded the gift of challenging myself while empowering victims of discrimination and connecting rural communities to legal services. Just as I did for my team, I will use my voice to fight unapologetically for what my clients deserve.
