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It’s hard to believe in the American Dream when you walk home through streets of abandoned buildings scattered with baggies of drugs. It was like God existed everywhere but here.
I’m pissed that the odds are always stacked against us, so everything is a struggle. I’m jealous of the guys we race because the odds are with them. I wonder if it makes rowing—and life—easier for them.
The power of speaking the right words to a young person can do something magical. I feel unstoppable.
