O Megan!  Why hast thou forsaken us?  Why are we left to aimlessly wander the water?  Rowing in singles, in doubles, the occasional quad, rudderless, directionless, coachless . . . O Meg!  Do you not know that idle oars are the devil's workshop?  Why are we left to consider a row through the locks of the Allegheny (really Zuzana??), or to drift downstream through the right hand arch of the 40th St. Bridge (so wrong, so wrong, we can hear Megan, "downstream through the center arch, THEN cut over if you have to go in the top of the channel")?  And for what, I ask, for what?  For biking?  Time for yourself, with your husband, to recharge and refresh??  Megan, oh Megan, what are you?  European??  Some of us, we won't name names, have begun to look with envy on EMM and covet their coach Nate.  Yes, it's come to that and it is scary.  We are here, Megan, on the erg, in small boats, lifting weights to make our muscles scream as we would scream for our coach, if only she would hear.  O Megan!