Christine Grant sits patiently next to Batman and Robin, waiting to go out into the chilly early morning air.

Many Iowa City residents haven't even hit the snooze buttons on their alarm clocks yet, but members of the University of Iowa women's rowing team are already hard at work. Inside the boathouse near the Iowa Memorial Union, they prepare the boats named in honor of the former UI women's athletic director, the Dynamic Duo, and other notable personalities or virtues. Rocky and Bullwinkle lounge next to Athena, Nobility, Genesis, Optimism, and some dozen other vessels.

In a practice on the Iowa River, UI Head Coach Mandi Kowal issues instructions to her rowers.

The boathouse resembles a beached whale washed up against the side of the Iowa Advanced Technology Center. Where the rain has sluiced off its brown metal surface, a faint blue stain froths on the surrounding concrete. Inside, it's a mish-mash of unfinished concrete and dirt floors, duct-taped carpet remnants, and strips of what looks like Astroturf.

Boats dangle in racks from the ceiling or lean against the walls, and 12-foot oars are stacked in piles around the cavernous room. Made of carbon fiber, the boat —or racing shells—are up to 60 feet long, weight some 200 pounds, and cost about $20,000 each. When the UI's rowing program started in 1994, it had just two boats and a couple dozen athletes eager to try an unfamiliar sport. Today, 19 boats occupy the boathouse, and the crew has grown to 60 varsity and novice rowers who compete in eights, fours, and pairs events.

This morning, several varsity rowers carefully lift the Christine H. B. Grant off the suspended rack on which she lies upside-down. Walking gingerly in unison down sets of steps, they balance the boat on their shoulders and then wait for the coxswain's instructions. The annex to the Advanced Technology Center wasn't designed as a boathouse, and its convenient proximity to the Iowa River is offset by practical limitations. Although the central steel strut of the of the building's double doors can be lifted out, maneuvering a 60-foot boat through the narrow gap is akin to threading a long, weighty, and expensive piece of string through the eye of a needle.

The crewmembers carefully follow the coxswain's instructions instructions to lift and tilt. They know that if they scratch or dent the Grant, they have to return her to the rack, forgo the river practice in favor of an indoor workout on the ergometer rowing machines, and then help clearn and maintain the boats.

"Bring it out, keep it low," orders the coxswain. "Up to shoulders ... ready ... up. Walk it out. Weigh ... enough. Street side, down to waist ... ready ... down. Walk it out. Watch the riggers!"

When the Grant emerges through the narrow doorway unscathed, the crew walks the few yards down to the dock and carefully sets the boat into the water. The light is pearly and translucent, the air hushed, as if the world is holding its breath before the workday clamor begins. As the rowers make their way up the Iowa River towards Coralville, their blades slice softly through the calm water. The quiet strokes, the rhythmic exhalations of the crew, the water lapping against the side of the boat, and the occasional squawk of a startled duck echo in the cocoon of silence.

Anyone who's ever stood on the riverbank or peered down from Hancher Bridge as the crews glide by has witnessed a sport whose surface serenity is misleading. Rowing calls for the kind of mental and physical toughness usually flaunted by the U.S. Marines.

Head Coach Mandi Kowal says that she looks for "people who know how to roll up their sleeves and go. With the kind of training we do, we need athletes with the tenacity of wrestlers."

She knows what it takes to make the grade as a rower. A former five-year member of the U.S. National Rowing team, Kowal earned two World Championship gold medals in the lightweight four event. An inductee of the Rowing Hall of Fame, she was named Sportswoman of the Year by the United States Olympic Comittee and Female Athlete of the Year by the U.S. Rowing Association in 1987. Her alma mater, the University of Wisconsin, annually presents one of its outstanding rowers with the Mandi Kowal Award, which "recognizes the varsity lightweight athlete who has contributed most to the success of her team by demonstrating a high level of performance and desire for excellence."

In the nine years since she came to Iowa to set up its first women's varsity rowing program, Kowal has passed on to hundreds of athletes the mental and physical abilities needed to excel in this demanding sport. Rowing calls both for the stamina to row three miles in under 20 minutes and for the explosive strength to sprint at the start and finish of a race. Mental discipline is just as important as physical prowess.

"You just have to fight with yourself to keep going when you're exhausted and your legs are burning," says Evonne Butikofer, a senior from Cedar Rapids. "Your body is saying, 'Quit! What are you doing to yourself?' At the end of a race, rowers tend to be hunched over, almost in a fetal position, because they hurt so much."

Competitiveness is another must-have on the coaches' wish list for recruits. "We're looking for people who have the motivation to work hard when they're tired, because they don't like being beaten by anybody," says assistant coach Wendy Wisehart, 93BA. "Our rowers challenge each other all the time—who can jump the highest or eat the grossest combinations of food—because they just like to put themselves on the line."

Where do the coaches find these athletes? Iowa doesn't have a rowing tradition: the sport isn't commonly taught at high schools in the state, and it doesn't fit naturally into the Midwest geography or culture the way it does on, say, the East Coast. Kowal estimates that 95 percent of recruits have never sat in a boat or wielded an oar before they joined the program.

While the team does have many homegrown athletes, coaches recruit from all over the U.S. and Canada. Track stars, swimmers, gymasts, and basketball players have all gone on to lift an oar in Iowa. "You could find a rower at any sporting event," says Kowal.

Indeed, coxswain Natalie Moretz, a senior from Hanlontown, tells how she was recruited from the football ticket line at the UI freshmen orientation fair in 1999. As the diminutive blonde waited in line with friends, assistant coach Wisehart approached her, explained that she was looking for potential rowing recruits, and then asked how much Moretz weighed. Small women who tip the scales at 110-115 pounds make ideal coxswains, as they don't add too much weight to the boat.

Similar to point guards or quarterbacks in terms of their responsibilities, coxswains steer the boat, motivate the crew, and execute race strategies. "I'm like an assistant coach on the water," says Moretz. "Even though we have a race plan, I decide exactly when we make our moves."

In her early days as a coxswain, Moretz found it awkward and challenging to issue orders to people she'd only recently met. "It's hard to tell your friends and peers what to do—or when they've done something wrong," she says.

Wisehart sums up the coxswain's role with a powerful simile. "It's like they're driving a race car—but as they go flying along, they only have verbal pedals to control it."

Whatever their individual roles on the team, novice rowers have to learn a whole new set of skills—as well as an arcane language with references to crabs and shells, strokes and recoveries. At first, their movements are awkward and mechanical—straighten their legs, lean slightly back with the body, pull the oars back with the arms, then repeat the entire sequence in reverse. "Most novices look like Frankenstein's monster learning to row," says assistant coach Laura "Mac" Macfarlane. With practice, though, each movement flows automatically and effortlessly into the next.

The crews practice most mornings and evenings on the Iowa River, and, in winter, they head indoors or off to training camps and competitions in Florida or Texas. They supplement the river practices with running, swimming, weight training, and workouts on the "ergs." Last fall, the coaches organized a triathlon consisting of a row followed by a bike ride and then a run around Iowa City. Crewmembers spiced up the event by donning outlandish costumes over their workout gear. The team dressed as fairies soon discovered the drawbacks of rowing while wearing wings, and the rowers clad in Victoria's Secret lingerie drew some surprised—and admiring—glances from passers-by.

While rowers may get to the boathouse via a basketball court or a running track, rowing isn't as spectator-friendly as sports where the action is confined in one easily viewed location. But, the fan base is growing as Iowa gains media attention and makes its mark in the regional and national events. Ranked 18th nationally in 2000, the UI placed ninth in the NCAA Championships in 2001.

One Sunday last October, Iowa City Park was a hubbub of unusual color, sound, and activity. Hundreds of people milled around, braving the frigid air nipping at fingers, toes, and noses. Boats were stacked four high in bulky trailers or strewn on the grass like giant tooghpicks. Athletes in different school colors loped past in pre-race warm-ups, while disembodied voices boomed from loudspeakers.

Some 1,300 competitors from all around the country had been here since dawn, huddled in sleeping bags as they waited their turn to compete in the Head of the Iowa regatta. Spring events take place over distances of 2,000 meters and several crews race against each other in buoyed lanes; in fall events, crews race against the clock over three miles.

Spectators clustered on the banks or leaned over the sides of bridges to catch a glimpse of the action. The rowing savvy among them looked for crews who appearced graceful and relaxed. When technique and effort blend seamlessly, rowers' movements are fluid and synchronized; their blades enter the water without too much splash and emerge uniformly just above the surface.

"A crew that looks like it's an enormous effort to move the boat might be working too hard—against each other," explains Coach Kowal. "When a crew looks effortless on the water, that doesn't happen because of luck, but because they're working together."

The Head of the Iowa is the crew's last chance to row at home before winter closes down the river. Last October, those practice sessions and workouts paid off: the Iowa team finished in the top five in all varsity events. But for seniors, the victory was bittersweet. It was their last chance to sweep around the curves of the river in a race surrounded by the brilliant colors of fall.

Once they graduate, most will give up competitive rowing. While they may not pine for those early morning practices, they will miss the camaraderie, the thrill of competition, and the confidence that comes from being in peak physical condition.

Senior Evonne Butikofer sums up the feelings of many of her teammates: "If I can get through a day of training or a practice session, there's nothing I can't do."

Like the bluish stain that's wrought a colorful change on the area around the boathouse, Iowa's rowing program has left an indelible mark on these women.