A placid barefoot day drifting south with the ebb toward the Jamestown Bridge—what could be better?

Last week I read Elizabeth Berg’s “Dream When You’re Feeling Blue,” also fiction and also full of engaging characters. But 1940’s Chicago made me shiver, not sweat. And Berg’s characters asked tougher questions about war, women’s rights, sacrifice, and the strength of family ties. I couldn’t have possibly plowed through this book in one day; it needed several nights of digestive thought.

And that’s what I love about reading: we can choose our preferred climate, century, and depth of engagement. If we hit it right (as I did yesterday), stories enrich our solitude and take us outside our own lives. If we hit it wrong—well, we can always pick up something else. That’s why books on the nightstand are as valuable as money in the bank.

Two weeks ago I raced Snipes with a skipper who quietly stated that he wanted to rip out the heart of every other competitor on the race course. Of course on shore he loaned tools, boats, and brute strength even before he was asked, offering that unique mix of cooperative competitiveness I so love about small boat racing. Wanting to win should encourage us to help our competitors improve;  the better they are, the more they challenge us to sail our best.

Five days later, I found myself alone in the middle of Narragansett Bay, drifting south with the ebb tide. I spent the leisurely cruise consciously savoring the first-sail-of-the-season, the gleaming varnish, the early shimmer of seabreeze—and the rare sunshine. I felt lucky to be on the water, and quite content—even with a complete absence of competition.

In less than a week, I traveled from one end of the competitive spectrum to the other—all without setting foot in a boat with an engine. No matter what my psyche demands—solitude, heart-ripping competition, or something in between—I can find it on the water.

So here’s another place where books meet boats—they each provide a seemingly endless variety of experience. I can escape for a day or a week, to a harbor down under or a heartland city. Best of all, I can travel light—my imagination will be all the baggage I need.

Kim Couranz, Margaret Podlich, Carol Cronin, and Kate Fears share yet another laugh at the J/22 Midwinters in Tampa, FL.

“Let’s do some more sailing together,” I said to Margaret last November, over dinner preparations at her house.  “You, me, Kate, and Kim.  Wouldn’t that be great?”

“Definitely!” she responded with her usual enthusiasm. “How about Rolex?”

The perfect event for us – I was only disappointed I hadn’t thought of it first.

For women sailors (especially those of a “certain” age), the “Rolex” is much more than just a watch; it’s an event, officially known as the Rolex International Women’s Keelboat Championship. Since 1981, women from all walks of sailing have come together every two years to celebrate our sport.  Teams form out of book groups, high schools, neighborhoods, mother and daughter connections, and crew/skipper request lists (AKA, blind dates). All that’s required is a knowledge of sailing, a love of competition and camaraderie, and a combined weight of less than 605 pounds.  Oh yeah, and a J/22.

I might be the only skipper who had put together a team before I figured out what regatta we’d sail, or where we’d find a boat.

Kim arrived a few minutes later for dinner and her only hesitation was schedule; the Laser Masters Worlds were already on her fall calendar. Once I assured her there was no conflict she agreed to join us as a jib trimmer.

Two for three.  Now: could I convince Kate to come out of retirement?

The only Rolex I’ve ever steered without Kate was in September 2005, when she expected to be nine months pregnant. As it turned out, Joshua arrived early, overly anxious to check out the big wide world. He spent the event in the preemie ward with round-the-clock care. When I went to visit them both, Kate joked that she could’ve sailed with us after all.

This year, with a four year old and a very supportive family, Kate quickly agreed to join us.  The latest iteration of the Cronin Sailing Team was complete.

In order to fit in some practice during the year (and to guarantee some fun as well), we set up a regatta schedule that started with the J/22 Midwinters in Tampa, FL and then moved north to Annapolis for the NOOD and Midatlantics. We quickly found a boat to charter and in mid-February towed it south for four days of racing against the boys.  We enjoyed the break from winter and the chance to catch up with each other and our other J/22 friends.  And since Kate, Kim and Margaret had never sailed together, we also spent some time figuring out who would do what both on and off the boat.

Kate, we quickly discovered, makes the VERY BEST peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, so she added lunch duty to her bowchick responsibilities. (Never do a bad job well, Kate.)  Margaret learned to stop worrying and fly the kite like a veteran, even though it’s a new job for her.  And Kim, as far as I can tell, does everything else, without ever losing her cool – including the worst part of the trimmer’s job, passing back and forth any and all requested pieces of clothing as the temperature changes.

With such a great team assembled, I plan to sit back and enjoy the ride.  My husband Paul complains that my team spoils me, but I like to think all four of us are spoiled by such a perfect combination of good sailing and great attitudes.

The Rolex starts Oct 6, and we will be ready for a culmination of all our hard work and laughter this year.    Follow along by visiting the regatta website.  And let me know how you have chosen to build your team.