Pull like you want to make your shoulder blades kiss, says the trainer; hinge at the hips. Align the body with its purpose, so the weights raise you more than drive you into the ground. I talk about such things in my classrooms too— about how form is everything, but as we drive toward the goal of the unutterable, sometimes it's what we shed that makes a line shear sharper. I admit I like the idea of shoulders kissing; rather, the image of the scapula like a frame, stretching the trapezius and its muscle-red ripples like a sail or an awning— both, parts of the same mechanism to describe what rowing must feel like, or flying.