Time to let go

After the exhilaration of winning, what comes is a strange feeling of loss.

The FLUS team is a team I have devoted a lot of time and energy over the past 2 years.

The sport and the team meant a lot to me because it had made a lot of difference in my life.

2 years ago, we were in crisis mode. Our membership had dropped to below 10 when we began the new season after 2006's River Regatta.


At the June race 2007, we came in bottoms among all the racing teams, only slightly ahead of the breast cancer survivors. (I have great respect for the Pink Paddlers. But it quite another matter for a bunch of guys to row not much better for a group of ladies, aunties and grandmas).

There were people who looked down on the team. Even within the team, some thought the team could not achieve anything and moved to the teams.

Yet through it all, some of us persevered. We trained inexperienced newbies from scratch. We maintained an open heart and welcome everyone: all sorts of shapes and sizes, all sorts of fitness level, from all walks of life. Many people left after a while. But some stayed and helped build the team together.

Slowly, we began to see the results of the hard work. When I took over the reins of the team after last year's Regatta, we were no longer down and out.

Through it all, there were many times I feel like giving up. I asked myself why should I do this. Isn't it easier to go join a stronger team and win medals with them, especially when my company's corporate team was doing so well in the corporate category.

But what kept me going on, was when I saw the transformation of the fellow team mates. Seeing how they got fitter and healthier. Seeing how some got more confident and comfortable about themselves. Seeing how many became happier and had a greater sense of well-being. Seeing how everyone was putting so much effort into this, helping and supporting each other, having great fun in the process.

Finally, the team achieved its breakthrough last weekend and we got into the finals.

It was a moment of great satisfaction and pride for me.

But I know, I am not really a great leader. I tried my best to keep the team going. But I do not have what it takes to lead the team to greatness. For the team to grow, I cannot continue to hold a tight rein on it. It was important to groom new leaders and transition leadership. In addition, I wanted to moved on to other things in life and wanted to offload the heavy responsibility of a captain. I had slowly been getting others involved in leading the team. I put in place an election process and we elected a new exco as we celebrated after the race.

Yet, now that the handover time finally comes, I find myself seized by a sense of loss.

There was a time, when I worry about how the team will do when I was not around. When I was away overseas in holidays, I get worried calls from team members when the coach also could not make it. Now, I can be assured that even when the coach and myself are not around, the team is capable of taking care of itself and there are capable teammates to manage the team well.

There is great satisfaction to see the team I put in so much effort to nurture come of age. Yet, I can't help feeling a loss realizing the team does not need me any more. (Of course the team never really did. People will definitely find a way to manage somehow. It was just really my perception because of my attachment to the team.)

I have not been a parent. But I wondered if that's how parents felt, when they realized their children had grown up and no longer need them?

No matter, it's time to let go. For while I will continue to paddle, I do need to move on to other things in life.