It's Not So Simple. It's Not So Easy. But Rowing Makes Going Backward a Whole Lot of Fun.

Just about a year ago, Tom Peng showed up at the Anacostia Community Boathouse for the Capital Rowing Club's Learn-to-Row Day. And with his first stroke, he was hooked: Peng signed up for a novice rowing class in August and soon reset his alarm so he could make 5:30 a.m. practices.

"Every day, I get a rush of excitement hoping can I do better than the day before," says Peng, 31, who has done a lot more than hope. This spring, he tried out for Capital's competitive squad, snagged a spot on the team and is training for nationals -- in a sport he had never even attempted last June.

That's one of the remarkable things about rowing, explains Brad Smith, a coach at Thompson Boat Center in Georgetown. "The whole point is nobody knows how to do it. Everybody at the beginning is really bad together," he says. But dedicate yourself to one rhythmic motion -- legs, body, arms, arms, body, legs -- and you'll improve dramatically. "If you can squat and stand up, you can learn to row."

So what's the catch? Although expert rowers make it look simple to glide along the water, that repetitive movement is much more strenuous and technical than beginners imagine. Just holding a shell upright in the water is a workout, as Smith proved when he directed me to a rowing machine. It looked like the kind found in most gyms, but this one was specially rigged to wobble like a boat.

"Hold it straight for one minute," he ordered. Keeping it from teetering required almost as much muscle as plank pose; I even managed to strain my toes.

Add in the actual rowing, which Capital's Molly McCoy describes as "the equivalent of doing 25 to 30 jump squats a minute while lifting weights," and it's easy to see why rowing is considered one of the best total-body, low-impact workouts around. Peng, a former high school wrestler, claims it's the toughest sport he has ever done.

But it's also, as Smith puts it, "F-U-N," which is what McCoy and pals were pushing two weekends ago at this year's Learn-to-Row extravaganza.

First stop for the hundreds of visitors, including me, was an up-close peek at a racing shell. "Few people know how a boat works or even that you're facing backwards," McCoy said.

Next, we were shuttled inside for a crash course on stroke technique, which banished the common misconception that rowing relies mostly on upper body strength.

"You push off with your legs, swing your torso back and complete the stroke by pulling the arms in to release the blade," rattled off coach Maura McVeigh.

And with that, it was time to take to the water for 15 minutes on a training barge. Unlike dauntingly narrow racing shells, this wide boat seats two rowers side by side, with enough space in between for a coach to crouch down and give pointers. Best of all, training barges let you ignore balance issues: "You could jump up and down on them and they wouldn't tip," McCoy promised.

But there was still plenty left to think about: how to slide back and forth far enough on your sliding seat to build momentum, how to pull that unwieldy oar through the water and, most important, how not to maim yourself or others around you while attempting to row in unison.

"I got smacked in the small of my back," reported fellow newbie Anthony Shelborne, 41, when we got back to shore, which made me feel better about repeatedly knocking into the oar of the guy in front of me (and getting merely tapped on my back by Roquell Wyche, 37, who was seated behind me). But even with the possibility of bruising, Shelborne was sold on signing up for a novice class. Wyche was considering it, too. "It seems like it would be relaxing once you achieved the right stroke," she said. "I got that feeling for a second."

She didn't know rowers' lingo, but Wyche meant having "swing," the sense of effortlessness achieved when all eight rowers manage to move correctly as one. It's the pursuit of that feeling that inspires otherwise normal human beings to wake up willingly at 4 a.m. And it's the struggle required that leads to frequent declarations of rowing as the ultimate team sport. "There are no stars. You're absolutely working together," McCoy says.

As for Chris Pearce, 41, another Learn-to-Row attendee, a different feeling was going to determine whether he was cut out for taking on a novice class: "I'm going to see how much I hurt in the morning."

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