There is a lot of mythology around Harvard Rowing and especially Harry Parker. For those of us fortunate enough to row at Harvard and for Harry, we were able to witness and experience this legend first-hand. It is often said that the most intelligent among us are able to explain and break down things into an elegant simplicity. They don’t get mired in the symptoms, they know how to cut straight to the core issue, the root cause, and the key drivers. They find the signal in the sea of noise. Harry was one of those rare people who had this ability and was able to apply it to his crews, perhaps better than anyone in the history of the sport of rowing. Harvard rowing was simple. Harry made it that way. If you showed up to the boathouse, gave your full effort, made the few changes Harry told you to make, you would improve. If you didn’t follow these simple steps day in and day out, you would not. The greatest advantage we had over athletes at other colleges was knowing that the few changes Harry told us to make were always the right ones. He didn’t tell us to do ten things in practice, three of which were important and seven of which were not. He kept it simple. He only told us to do the important things. We never had to guess; Harry took that burden off of our plates. His supreme clarity gave us the freedom to focus only on what we needed to focus on in order to improve and move faster down the river. That is a huge luxury for any athlete. A real gift that athletes in other programs did not have. How do you make the boat? Simple, become the fastest oarsman for one of its seats. What’s the race plan? Simple. Often just two words: “Be Persistent!” What qualities will make you successful as a Harvard oarsman? Simple: Hard work. Accountability. Grit. Persistence. Day in and day out, rain, shine, snow, or ice. Harry didn’t discover these simple, universal truths, he just never abandoned them. And as oarsmen, we didn’t either. That is the magic of Harvard rowing; that there is no magic. No silver bullets, only good old fashioned lead bullets. And since I left the Harvard boathouse almost two decades ago, I’ve tried my best never to forget or lose sight of this simple lesson. For it leads to growth and success on the river, in the classroom, in business, or in whatever sphere or field you choose to apply it. So, with that said, here’s to keeping it simple and being persistent!