You're on the rhythm right at the beginning. The stroke man sets the rhythm, then everybody takes responsibility for it and provides an equal amount of rhythm-generating power. The breathing—exhale at the finish, inhale at the catch—and the pulse of the boat reinforce the rhythm.

As you progress up the slide toward the catch, you feel the boat slip out from under you, and all of a sudden you catch yourself and you push off again. You attack on the push, everybody popping the legs, feeling the pressure right on the quads and accelerating back in one pulse, one sensation—pop, then relax; pop, then relax; attack, relax.

You all become the same heartbeat, the same leg drive. Everybody moves together, doing the same thing at the same time through the sensation of feel; through the hands, not so much the eyes.

When rhythm breaks, it becomes diffused. To get it back, one of us will yell out something like "Legs." Not, "Come on guys," or "Do better," because that doesn't give anybody an emphasis. When you say, "Legs...on this one...move," nine minds start working as one, thinking about just one technical point. And it picks the rhythm back up.

You numb yourself from the neck down. The only organ you want working is your brain. Your body's a machine, the biomechanics have taken over. You could do this in your sleep.

Your body is exploding, functioning at its highest heart rate. The only thing that could stop it now is your mind. You're focusing totally on the game in your head, going over a checklist through your body, "O.K. Legs are going back. Accelerate the hands. That's it. O.K. Swing the body. Swing."

Chip McKibben is on the world champion U.S. National Crew Team.