From Seat With A View: It is only fitting that the 1994 season began in difficult and uncomfortable conditions. We were forced to band together as a unit and work hard for every inch of ground. There is no doubt in my mind that the obstacles we overcame in those early months built an inner toughness that made us unbeatable when we encountered outside competition. We pulled together as a team and pulled for each other to win every race. When we arrived in San Diego just after the first of the year, it was hard to find the ARCO Olympic Training Center that lured us to California. There was a large plot of land in the desert where dozens of landscapers worked feverishly each day, but that was about it. Construction had barely begun, and the myth of a training center with a huge new boathouse, dining facilities and athlete housing was filled only with horticulture. There may not have been anywhere to eat or sleep, but the site had one hell of a garden. The other noticeable feature of the future Olympic Training Center was its proximity to the Mexican border. The most popular vehicles on the road in the area were U.S. Border Patrol cars. Later in the season, we caused a huge ruckus when we registered at the prestigious Henley Royal Regatta under the club name "Border Patrol Boat Club" with matching uniforms. The powers that be in USRowing were mortified and they demanded that we change our outfits. USRowing had established a connection to the Navy, so our squad was granted permission to live in the Bachelors Officers Quarters (BOQ) at the 32nd Street Naval Station in National City for $9 per day. The base was twenty minutes south of downtown San Diego and twenty minutes east of the training center by highway. The rooms were nice enough, but we would soon learn that the Navy had plenty of rules about keeping them in order. During those initial months in San Diego, our training schedule was strict. We would get two full days off, the only time that would happen in the next three years, but they would be earned. The other five days of the week, most of our time would be spent on the water or en route to the boathouse. Due to logistics, we would train two times per day in long sessions rather than three shorter sessions. The "boathouse" was a shipping container stuck at the end of a parking lot that abutted the lake. Because there were no facilities, except for two Port-o-lets, we did not have anywhere to wait around in between training except in our cars. We had to return to the naval base. The commute from the naval base to the boathouse was a solid half-hour, which meant at least two hours each day on the road. This training schedule gave us virtually no time to work. With no income, but everyday living expenses, people definitely felt strapped for money. The only salvation was the minimal grant ($5000) that some of us received for the year from the U.S. Olympic Committee. Wallets were tight. During that first month Spracklen admonished us to put our situation in perspective. At one of our earliest team meetings he said, "I just want to talk about the job situation for a minute. If you want to succeed at something, at anything, it's a measure of your determination. How much time, how much training you put into that effort will produce a certain level of success. Ideally, you want to be there for every session, every practice. But it is your decision. I am just the coach of this team. You are the athletes. It is your gold medal to win or lose. I can only tell you what I know from experience. We all came out here to be the best in the world. It's your own personal decision to look for part-time jobs. After finishing third last summer, we know we're not quite good enough yet. We can hardly afford to take the time off." There was no doubt where Spracklen stood. We would train, not work.