We’d been chatting about those cardboard pinhole thingies we both remembered making in school so you didn’t fry your retinas by staring directly at the sun during an eclipse.
It hadn’t crossed either of our radar screens that we should have made a plan this time to buy some eclipse-safe glasses, so we decided to just head down to the beach and experience what we could in the changing light. This basically involved getting too hot while the sun was still fully visible, schlepping up to the house to change into tank tops and shorts, then feeling chilled as the sun gradually slipped behind the moon.
As once-in-a-lifetime experiences go, it was proving somewhat underwhelming.
That is, until Inspiration slapped Rick upside the head.
“Hey, look what happens when you make a basketweave shadow with your hands!” In a blink, Rick is trotting up the stairs towards the house, leaving me on the beach with my iPhone, miffed with myself that I hadn’t figured out earlier that a 90% total eclipse at 10:00 a.m. during low tide was going to offer a photographic “golden hour” from an angle I had never seen before, and never will again. My inner photographer was seriously vexed with my outer adult worker-bee who had failed to anticipate such a stupendous opportunity, so I punished myself by shooting mundane seaweed clumps…
… and the patina of abandoned oyster shells that glowed with a notably unique softness I hadn’t noticed on our beach before.
A twilight filter cast on things only normally recognizable (to me) in the bright eastern light began to shift the mood… … which took another hard left turn as Rick jogged back onto the beach loaded with a hand full of perforated kitchen utensils. This, ladies and gentlemen, is what a 90% eclipse looks like as seen through the lens of our new spatula, set against the fabric of our black beach chair. The slotted soup skimmer came in a close second.
And that was that.
Valuing our eyesight above the experience of actually seeing the eclipse with our own eyes, we settled in to absorbing the event with our bodies (minus eyeballs) and hearts.
I started playing with my iPhone camera again.
It wasn’t until this afternoon, when I started casually flipping through the shots I had taken, that I realized my camera had been recording WAY more than I knew.
This is the shot that brought it home.
What was that mysterious blue crescent that presented itself?
I zoomed in for a closer look and realized that not only had we been graced with proof of wonders we could not see with our own eyes in the moment… … but that this is true on all kinds of levels, if only I had the eyes to see. I started going through all the photos I shot this morning, and the signs were everywhere.
The evidence of amazingness is all around us, even as we struggle to see things in the most ordinary of ways. God, give us eyes to see… … and hearts that remain soft enough to be filled with wonder and gratitude.
I always have flour, eggs, butter/oil, and entire drawers full of spices (many of which I’ve forgotten I own) and would like some easy baking tips?
Or, ever wonder how bread, pie, pasta, and biscuits can be so different from one another yet are all made out of basically the same four ingredients: flour, liquid, fat, and maybe salt? Or wish you had the universe of salad dressings instantly at your fingertips?
Michael Ruhlman has pulled together a kitchen magic tome: it’s equal parts fundamental ingredient ratios in cooking and baking, an anti-recipe cookbook, and for anyone searching for beginner cooking tips, this little nugget is a great place to start.
It is, essentially, a periodic table of elemental baking and cooking basics turned into a book with wildly helpful insights, all by an instructor at the Culinary Institute of America who is also a talented and engaging writer.
It’s based on the deliciously simple idea that once you know the essential ratios and a few fundamental techniques (happily supplied in his book) of any general category of food, the entire universe of flavours is yours with which to futz.
Wish I’d read it years ago… it would have saved us a ton on cookbooks. (Well, probably not… Rick is a yuuuge fan of beautiful coffee table cookbooks.) But it sure would have made my life in the kitchen easier and way more fun,
The staff of life, for instance, is essentially a 5:3 deal: five parts flour to three parts water, most preferably determined by weight, since flour density can vary widely based on local humidity.
Up until now, I hadn’t thought of our kitchen scale as one of our top ranking contenders in the home baking equipment and tools, but there is, apparently, a lot I don’t know.
Huh.
Given that measuring by weight make the ratios so much easier, Ruhlman says that of all the kitchen gizmos that should have a permanent place on your kitchen counter, a good electronic kitchen scale with a tare function (meaning it can zero out the weight of your container and just weigh the ingredients) should make the short list.
The OXO Good Grips 11 lb Food Scale with Pull Out Display (above) is the current Cook’s Illustrated best rated digital scale. We have the My Weigh KD-8000, which has served us well for the past eight years, but whatever…. As long as it’s reliable, can tare, weigh in grams as well as ounces, and looks dashing on your kitchen counter, run with it.
This ability to weigh the ingredients is what allows you to cook for two or adjust for twenty (but it won’t help with the dishes). It’s the ratio, plus some standard techniques that Ruhlman explains simply in the book, that distinguishes your pizza from your pasta and allows you to easily adjust the proportions to suit your volume: 1000 grams of flour to 6000 grams of water will get you roughly the same quality results as 500 grams of flour to 300 grams of water, or 5 ounces of flour and 3 ounces of water.
In the field of home cooking tips, it doesn’t get much easier than that.
5 : 3 = bread.
You also have to add some yeast and salt, but here the amounts are determined by the technique.
No-knead overnight bread needs a long, slow rise, so use less yeast–1/4 tsp–and more salt (to inhibit rising), up to 1.5 tsp.
Regular kneaded dough has a much faster rising period, so more yeast–up to 2.5 tsp– and less salt–1/2 tsp–gets the job done.
What isn’t flexible is the ratio of flour to water for bread: 5 : 3. That’s it. And when you think about a food that has been around for thousands of years across almost every culture on the planet, it’s not surprising that it should be that simple. The infinite number of nuances on the subject, however, are what makes cooking and eating such a soul-satisfying experience. Food texture and flavour both connect us to the past and tease us into innovating the future. It’s the difference between my Granny and yours.
Hankering for a piece of homemade pie?
How to Make 3:2:1 Pie Pastry
The baking ratio for pie is three parts flour, two parts fat, one part ice water, added gently to each other in that order until the fat gets worked into pea-sized lumps into the flour, and then the water has homogeneously dampened the mixture to the point where it holds together. Start with 12 ounces of flour: sort of the right amount for a double pie crust.
Shape the dough into two flattish disks, wrap in plastic, and chill for a half an hour.
Roll each disc out on a floured surface. Fold the first circle at the center, place it in the middle of your pie pan with the edges hanging over the side, unfold the circle, and pat gently into place. Fill with something delicious, and top with second circle. Cut extra pastry from edges, pinch bottom and top together, cut some slashes in the top to let the steam out, and pop into a hot oven (375 degrees, usually) until golden brown and astounding.
Pining for pasta? 3 (flour) : 2 (eggs), Mix well, knead for about 10 minutes, wrap in plastic and let rest on the counter for half an hour. Roll out on floured surface until super thin but still even thickness across the sheet, cut in whatever width noodles appeals to you, drop into salted boiling water and cook for about two minutes.
This ratio even comes with a handy serving guide: one egg per adult at your table.
These are cold leftovers from dinner Friday night. It was so amazing that we went all “power of now” and became one with the chicken parm and fresh noodles dressed with olive oil, red pepper flakes, black pepper, salt, and some fresh parsley.
Even though I had made the noodles based on the ratio and technique outlined in Ruhlman’s book and knew I would be writing this post, it didn’t occur to me until yesterday when Rick pulled the leftovers out of the fridge for lunch that I hadn’t taken a photo.
So, this is basically a photo of cold leftovers. Imagine then, how incredible it was steaming hot and fresh?!
The bottom line is that cooking with ratios frees us to innovate successfully with fresh, local, and Muse-friendly ingredients until we’re eating like the French, with each meal savored for the singular experience it is.
Unless there are leftovers, in which case you get to enjoy it twice.
You might think the photo above is a pair of fancy hand warmers I finished knitting yesterday.
In fact, there are at least two additional ghost hand warmers in the photo. This is because, apparently, I’m an inattentive and easily confused knitter. I made a LOT of mistakes which resulted in much ripping out and do-overs, so I probably actually knit the equivalent of two whole pairs.
Just because you can’t see them doesn’t mean that all the failures and frustrations and exhilarating learning moments aren’t there. They’re there. They’re woven directly back into the modest degree of success I achieved.
This is how it works in my life, too.
Lesson Two: It’s not necessary to fix every mistake.
This project involved at least four skills I had never tried before: magic loop knitting, cabling, creating a thumb gusset, and crafting a twisted rib stitch. (I’m probably forgetting one or two, but those four were the ones that uncorked the most colorful language.)
I had to train my fingers and hands to move in unfamiliar ways while trying to maintain a consistent tension on the yarn as it flowed through my fingers. At the same time, my linguistic processor was burning rubber, trying to learn this new language that would help me figure out what the pattern was telling me to do next. All this was against a landscape of inconsistently interlocking loops that was just beginning to make sense to my eyes.
Suffice it to say, mistakes were made [passive voice intentional].
Most of them demanded repair, like the several times I messed up on which direction the crossover on the cabling went, or when I forgot to move the yarn over top of the needle before switching direction on the magic loop and ended up with extra stitches (sort of) on the needles.
But many of my errors were simply because my fingers aren’t yet proficient at following the new neural pathways I am trying to build. I’m just learning. My fingers didn’t understand what “maintain proper tension when changing needles using the magic loop method” meant.
I’m like a little kid in knitting kindergarten, so I colored out of the lines sometimes.
In these cases I let my inner knitting kindegartener celebrate by embracing the tantalizing messiness of what it is to learn something brand new.
In the case above, it was just a flat out mistake that I could have fixed but noticed late in the game and decided, “Meh… It’s on the inside of the cuff. I can live with it.” I let my inner lazy adult make the call on that one.
And I learned that it’s often okay to live with small mistakes that no one else cares about or would even notice.
Lesson Three: Practice makes perfect, or at least good enough.
And it is very sweet when you figure something out that was impossible until suddenly it wasn’t.
Lessons Four and Five:
Don’t believe everything I read, and, I get what I pay for.
The pattern was wrong.
Let me repeat that in case you didn’t catch it the first time: THE FRIGGIN’ PATTERN WAS WRONG.
The instructions for the right hand were different than for the left, so I dove in with confidence that the people who publish knitting patterns have actually made the item under discussion according to the pattern they’re offering.
Nope.
I tried twice up to a point well beyond where the thumb started, and both times, it became clear that I was creating a second left hand, albeit starting from a different door in. It was still, very decidedly, a left hand version emerging. And I still couldn’t believe it could be the pattern, and not me.
Called the store, left a message: “Could someone please let me know if I’m doing this wrong?” No response.
So, I ripped it out (again) to the cuff and knit the mirror image of the left glove on the theory that a) it might work, and b) if it didn’t, I was getting a LOT of knitting practice in for the amount of money I spent on the yarn.
It worked, and I learned that sometimes the directions actually are wrong, and that there often is a positive correlation between how much you pay for something and what the actual value of that thing is.
The pattern was free.
Lesson Six: Knit my problems.
I tried meditating, but all I could think of was my knitting.
But that’s okay, because evidently, knitting has benefits that are also found in meditation: calm, rhythmic mindlessness, with a very quiet yet lightly focused point–literally–of attention. There’s even a yoga-ish word for it: “knitasana.”
And knitasana is delightful. It somehow realigns, cools, and calms screaming neurons that have been burning way too hot for way too long and need a breather. When I knit, I find myself taking deep breaths without meaning to.
And this is all just terrific until I screw up, or life screws up around me, or in any case, my knitting becomes fecked.
Just like life: sailing along at a lovely quiet rhythm of sleeping, taking long walks, working at stuff you enjoy, cooking dinner and eating it with your best friend, and then… whammo! A stitch has been dropped or one row grew where I wasn’t expecting it and I don’t know why, but now I need to fix it. I move rapidly from reflective zen zone to alert problem solving.
The surprise here for me is that, if I let it, my “problem” becomes a moment to closely examine where I’ve been lately, and what I’ve done that lead to my current situation. It’s a creative process, really, a puzzle to solve, and one that leaves me a far more well-informed knitter than I was when everything was sliding along nicely like butter.
Just like life. Substitute “person” for “knitter” in the paragraph above and noodle on it for a bit.
P.S. Got back from a walk a few minutes ago with my new gloves on, and not one of the dogs we met objected to that little mistake on the inside cuff, or even seemed to notice.
New Year’s Eve… For me, it’s an afternoon for reflections, mostly about the people we love, the places we’ve been, and what I’ve learned in the past year.
With family spread out literally from coast-to-coast and across two nations…
… there will always be some precious moments we miss in person (thanks, Helen Overholt, Kate’s friend on Facebook, for all your wonderful photo sharing of the past year) …
… and some that we’re there for.
The trick to it all is to be where you are…
… and enjoy who you’re with…
… and cherish ALL the loving moments that come your way as they unfold.
Give back to your community when you can.
… be grateful for mind-bending, world-changing work when it comes your way…
… and travel for as long as you’re able…
…with as many loved ones as are willing, and especially those who enjoy a big fat martini at the end of a long day.
I still have many stories left to tell of 2016, of travels to Alaska…
… and more moments in India…
… but also of travels closer to home…
… and of those right in our own back yard. (Hint: brilliant green ferns, fresh snow, and majestic cascading waterfalls probably mean we’re somewhere within an hour of our house on Vancouver Island.)
I could write more about all the amazing dining out we experienced this year…
… or blab on further about all the fresh delights that came out of our own kitchen…
… or how this was the year that all grandmothers everywhere discovered the latest fountain of youth: Snapchat filters…
… or remind us all about the nasty consequences of poodles believing they can fly. (He’s better now.)
But my biggest lesson of 2016 was what it takes for me to witness and harvest opportunities for beauty…
… and creation…
… and peace.
May 2017 bring blessings to you and your household that will make you blink twice.
I can tell you exactly when it happened: November 26, 2016, at 11:52:14 AM. (Says so right in the time stamp of the photo.)
It was a Saturday morning in downtown Courtenay on 5th St. at the world’s best bakery/chocolate store, Cakebread.
We had stopped in for a latte and a baguette, and got smacked upside the head with the Christmas spirit.
Full blown, just like that. Boom! Merry Christmas.
No idea what was on this wall before the this adorable 3D mural appeared, but now I can’t imagine anything else there.
Yes, many things were the same: the amazing olive oil sampling wall was still there…
… as were the lovely ladies waiting on the line up for artisan breads and monster sandwiches…
… and the generally talented buskers who are almost always somewhere on the block.
But there really was this penguin-induced “Joy to the World” vibe in the air that was even more delicious than the latte and warm classic palmier cookie we shared.
So that was the start of it.
This year we had enough time to slow things down and savor each element as its own Christmas treat.
Finding just the right place for each decoration was like seasoning our home with a wash of family, sweet memories, and an earnest prayer for Peace on Earth.
BTW, the Santas have now finally been tweaked into their final position in front of Rick’s painting, unless he’s been poking away at them again.
I even learned how to wrap a gift like a grown up, AND enjoy the process. (Tip: buy the wrapping paper that has the grid lines on the reverse side to help with planning how much paper you’ll need and how to cut in a straight line.)
A great Christmas playlist, some fun new (to us) music by The Good Lovelies, and a wrapping buddy helped make the season bright.
There was leisure to futz with the fiddly bits and plenty of bandwidth to luxuriate in ALL the smells.
We even took time for a puzzle or two along the way when the parcels were ready.
We spent more time out in our extended community this year as well, with a couple of nights in magical Victoria, window-shopping fabulous Ford St. after the sun went down.
There’s nothing like a train set running in a hobby store window at Christmas to whet the appetite for what might be under the tree.
Our nautical neighbors are enthusiastic about the season as well.
Even the unadorned trees, heavy still with fruit to keep the birds going through the winter, speak kindness and optimism into the expectant calm.
I don’t know from whence the winds of Christmas cheer blow, but this year, I know for sure where they landed: in our hearts. We’re so grateful for each other, our wonderful family and friends, this beautiful world, and of course, all of you.
Merry Christmas, and here’s hoping you have a Most Amazing New Year!
Want a gentle, back-friendly, total-body workout that doesn’t feature pounding, twisting, or dependence on just one major muscle group to elevate cardiovascular effort? There may be a rowing machine in your future. The good news is that it’s a fairly easy decision to make.
Dig into the world of rowing machine reviews in search of the best rowing machine, and you’ll quickly learn one thing: you’ll basically be deciding between the Concept2 Model D and something else.
The Concept2 rowing machine is THE industry standard bearer. The company has been in business for 40 years and the Model D has a huge fan base. Amazon awards a whopping 4.9 stars from over 1000 reviewers and, with an overall score 85 from Consumer Reports, it’s their highest rated rowing machine for 2016 out of the six machines they tested (top two runners up listed below), measured in the categories of:
How well designed is the pedal restraint system? (excellent)
How easy is it to see and operate the display and fiddle with the resistance level? (very good)
How well made is it? (excellent)
How safe is it to use? (excellent)
Even the Concept2 page on Amazon knocks all the others out of the park, with a series of super-thorough but short videos broken down into manageable bites of rowing machine advice on everything from how to use a rowing machine, proper technique, intensity and pause workouts, and more.
As my dad would say, these Concept2 people know their onions.
However, as is often the case at Chez Rick and Kathy, the Consumer Reports highest-rated gizmo isn’t the one we ended up buying. We landed on the Xebex Air Rower instead.
(Or maybe he’s just wondering if he’ll ever get a turn.)
Rowing Machine Decision Factors
In addition to the four variables Consumer Reports tested, the pertinent factors for us also involved cost, storage options, seat height, a touch of arthritis (or whatever the hell it is that’s making my left index knuckle huge), and my delicate tail bone/backside.
We’re definitely a “zero pain but ALL the gain” kinda couple. So, why did we go with the Xebex?
Rowing Machine Pricing
The Concept2 Model D and the Xebex are (as of this writing) priced almost exactly the same: both come in at $945 on Amazon.com, with the Xebex currently shipping an additional free “conditioning pack” composed of “Back Saver Pad, EZ Speed Rope, 20-pound Premium Wall Ball, and 15 pound Slam Ball.” Beyond the extra goodies, however, the two machines are not equally matched, feature for feature, and this is where our path diverged from Consumer Reports.
Space and Storage Requirements for a Rowing Machine
Where to operate and store a rowing machine was a huge care-about for us in our not huge home.
All rowing machines need roughly 9 x 4 feet when in use, which actually isn’t that much to ask in an average room. It’s sort of the conversation space between facing furniture. We simply don’t have ~40 feet of unused space in our house, however, to dedicate permanently to a piece of exercise equipment. We needed something that stored upright and was easy to move into place.
Check.
The Xebex has an easy-to-use hinge system. You just pull out the pop-pin, fold the unit neatly in two on to its four sturdy wheels, and whistle it into a corner and out of the way. If you can lift a 12-bottle pack of Perrier into a grocery cart and wheel it to the checkout, you can handle this.
It’s also a much sturdier unit than the Concept2, which means that even at maximum intensity by a big guy it feels solid and locked in place. It also means it’s a much heavier unit than the Concept2. However, with the fold-up design, handle, and four wheels, it’s also much easier to move around, and we don’t plan on carrying it up or down stairs any time soon.
The Concept2 Model D separates into two parts for storage, so it can also compress into a tidy footprint when not in use. However, we liked that the Xebex stays in one piece and has a solid base of four wheels to lightly skootch around on. It just seems like an easier set-up/tear-down system to us after about a month of use.
Rowing Machine Seat Height and Comfort
The Concept2 Model D has a standard seat height of 14″ from the ground, where the Xebex has a higher seat of 21″, or roughly the same as that of a normal chair. This makes mounting and dismounting the machine and getting your feet into the adjustable foot pads easier. For Rick at 6’1″, this is more important for him than for me at a piddly 5’8″, but still… my theory is that anything that makes exercise easier and more enjoyable is worth consideration.
Here’s where the pricing game came back into play.
Concept2 also has a newer model, the Model E, that sells from roughly $200 more than the Model D, and one of the big differences is… you guessed it! The seat is positioned 20″ from the ground.
Plus, the Xebex comes with a nicely padded seat (as do I, so that works out well). If you’re looking at rowing for 45-60 minutes a day, that extra seat padding can make a huge comfort difference. After all, the lungs can only benefit from what the bum can endure.
Of course, you could buy the Concept 2 Model D and for about $50 more, swap the original seat for the cushy upgrade by the aptly-named company, “EndureRow.”
Rowing Machine Handle Comfort
There’s extra padding on the thick rubber Xebex handles as well, and while there is much less wear-and-tear on your hands than I would have expected (if you’re rowing correctly, which means you’re holding the handle loosely with the ends of your fingers like you’re carrying a suitcase, keeping your wrists flat), the handle on the Xebex is light and comfortable. No issues with that lovely knuckle of mine.
Of course, you could always just add a pair of these Neoprene/leather workout gloves to your cart: 1000 Amazon reviewers have given them a solid 4.4 stars. Note: in the reading and videos I’ve dived into on correct rowing technique (a few good resources listed below), I’ve never seen anyone recommend this particular grip. Maybe it’s just to show off the rowing gear here:
The Xebex Rower Display
The tiltable, battery-operated display on the Xebex doesn’t have the back lighting offered by the Concept2 “Performance Monitor 5” (PM5). This isn’t a huge issue for us as the display is still reasonably visible as you can see below.
Although the Xebex display is more limited in terms of fancier tracking of split times, etc., we don’t care. We’re not in this to compete, so the more feature-rich display doodads actually only serve to confuse the user (me). It tracks distance, speed, time, watts, paddle width, calories burned, and with the addition of a compatible heart-rate monitor, heart rate. Just hit “start” and begin to row, and all the metrics start tracking with the first pull. There’s even a programmable interval function, but as I manage this with the order of songs on my rowing playlist (below)… meh.
While Rick says it was a breeze to unbox and assemble (took him about 45 minutes), the user’s manual is helpful only from an entertainment perspective. For example, the first point in the section describing how to set a target distance reads as follows:
“Distance will gleam value at Distance field. DM will be time remnant. Time will be the time how long have user exercised. Others will blank.”
Yup. I blanked all right.
Fortunately, as mentioned above, it’s pretty intuitive, and for the non-gym rats/serious outdoor rowers among us, hitting “start” and rowing will get you all the info you need.
Finally, the webbed straps that keep your feet anchored to the foot rests tend to loosen a little over the course of a rowing session, so occasionally you might have to pause to give them a yank and cinch them up again. However, in conversation with other rowers, I’ve come to the conclusion this isn’t a problem unique to the Xebex as others report the same minor irritation with other models. That said, it is easily fixed: just attach a couple of stick-on velcro pieces to the strap ends.
This model uses a water flywheel to replicate the feel and sound of the real deal. What I love about the Xebex wind-resistance approach is, well, the wind. It’s a self-rewarding system: the harder I exercise, the more of a breeze I create for myself. Close your eyes, put on one of those “spa water music with seagulls” CDs, and there you are, skimming gently down the stream… (Or use my own custom playlist below if you want to keep your strokes per minute (SPM) between 23 and 30.)
Our local fitness equipment store mentioned that they get feedback that the webbed “chain” doesn’t get as high marks from their customers as does the actual chain style.
One reviewer on Amazon commented: “Leaks,” which shouldn’t be a problem as it is currently unavailable. Maybe they’re looking into the leak thing.
Also tied for 2nd place is the WaterRower A1, score 72.
Others besides Consumer Reports seem to like this model: it scores 4.7 stars across ~170 reviewers at Amazon. Having lived with the lovely breeze that a wind resistance model supplies–plus the possibility for heading downstairs for a quick row and encountering a soppy mess–makes us unlikely candidates for any water rower, regardless of the ranking on Consumer Reports or Amazon.
Rowing Playlist
I find listening to appropriately tempoed music has always heightened my enjoyment of any workout experience. (Masking the sound of my gasping for breath seriously amps my ability to slide into the “fun!” zone.) But believe me, it isn’t easy finding a rowing machine playlist already pulled together for a 50-something rower who wants to keep her heart rate in the 100-130 beats-per-minute zone. For me, this translates to roughly 22-30 strokes per minute, depending on if I’m warming up, zooming along at coasting speed, or indulging in the occasional sprint for some interval work.
It is, admittedly, a very eclectic mix, which works nicely for me. Want a more strenuous (or gentle) workout? Futz with the wind resistance damper until you find your sweet spot, then hop on for the ride!
And finally, for when you step off the rower and ease into a lovely stretch routine (you do stretch, right?): “Hello” by Adele, or “At Last,” by Etta James, no SPM for either one. Just three minutes of gentle anti-aging body care that’s as important, if not more so, than your time in the seat.
Sometimes it helps to have a visual reminder of what, at the highest level of abstraction, matters the most about a subject. Flashback: my teen-aged bedroom plastered with David Cassidy, Michael Jackson, Davey Jones, and a brief ill-advised flirtation with Donny Osmond.
This poster is actually way more helpful than any of the above ever turned out to be.
A great starter book for those stepping up to a rowing machine for the first time, or for the rest of us who just arrogantly hopped on and figured we knew everything there was to know about this mighty machine. It’s a little quirky, but enjoyably so, and full of helpful tips on how to row, the benefits of rowing, how to think about keeping your body fit for the rest of your life, and a bunch of stuff in the middle.
According to Amazon reviewers, this is a much more technically sophisticated tome for those interested in improving their on-water technique, achieving their PR (Personal Record for athletically-challenged among us), and so on. I’ll have to take their word for it. I’m still grooving with the “Zen of Rowing” vibe, the “rowing for fitness” mind-set, and the white-haired model reflected in the “Row Daily” book above.
Bottom Line
Consumer Reports chose not to include the Xebex at all in their most recent testing, so it’s hard to compare apples to apples without putting it through its paces in their lab. However, recent conversations with our local gym buddies and fitness equipment dude in town, along with the price point, higher and more cushy seat, padded handle bars, sturdiness of build, and ease of mobility around our guest/TV room convinced us that this workhorse deserved a chance, and we almost always root for the underdog.
Just a little piece of gym trivia for you to whip out at the water cooler (because I stumbled on it during my research and hate to waste it):
Indoor rowing machines were originally called ergomachines (or “ergs,” by the cool kids) as they measure the amount of work performed. Why ellipticals or any other fitness machines that measure calories burned, distance run, etc. aren’t also called “ergs,” is because the rowing machine got there first. They’ve been around since the 4th century BC as onshore training devices for inexperienced oarsmen, but they weren’t known as ergs until the early 1960’s when they became the first piece of equipment that could precisely measure human power output.
