I’ve always found this question a bit odd—especially when it’s meant to assess our boat-building credentials. Just because someone rows doesn’t mean they can build a boat any more than driving a car makes someone a mechanic. If I needed a surgeon, I wouldn’t start Googling patients with the same condition, assuming that having suffered through an illness makes someone the best specialist. Expertise isn’t about simply experiencing something—it’s about mastering the craft.

That said, rowing runs deep in Lez’s family. His grandfather was a national champion. His mum was too. So, naturally, young Lez rebelled—he picked up kayaking instead. (The Lisa Carrington kind.) In fairness, kids can start paddling as early as nine, while rowing tends to start later. But by his teens, Lez had switched to rowing.

Still, being a rower didn’t mean he could just start building boats. Hungary didn’t have a competitive rowing boat industry, so Lez took an apprenticeship in a kayak-building workshop—where real craftsmanship was learned the hard way, through experience.

And that’s how our paths crossed.

Lez in his wooden single, photo taken with a brick.

The Kayak That Never Was

I was a former paddler, looking to get back into the sport. I visited the workshop where Lez was building racing kayaks, intending to buy one. I tested a few, and each time, Lez helped me carry the boats to the river. Somewhere between boat tests, casual chats, and a particularly proud declaration from Lez that he had left kayaking for rowing, my interest was piqued.

Rowing?
The sport where the boat goes backward?
Intriguing.

Now, the official version of how we ended up hanging out after those test paddles differs slightly depending on which one of us you ask. But what we do agree on is that I never bought that kayak.
Instead, I joined his rowing club.

Chain Bridge and the River Danube

Rowing on the Danube

Our club, Kulker Rowing Club, is on the Buda side of Budapest, rowing on the mighty Danube River. Fun fact: the Danube splits Budapest in half—one side is Buda, the other is Pest. The two were separate cities in historic times, later united to form Hungary’s capital. (Kind of like how the Waikato River separates Cambridge and Leamington.) But our club wasn’t just about casual rows and picture-perfect cityscapes. We were obsessed with one thing:

The Budapest-Baja Regatta

The Longest One-Day Rowing Race in the World, The Budapest-Baja Regatta isn’t just a race—it’s a test of sanity. Spanning 165 km (172 km in the year I did it, and yes, I will claim that extra 7 km forever!), it’s a one-day, non-stop rowing marathon. You start in Budapest and row south until you reach Baja. With the river’s current, you’d think it’s a breeze, but don’t be fooled. Your muscles can be trained for this distance—your joints, however, cannot. Most competitors (wisely) do the race in crew boats, sharing the suffering. Lez, on the other hand, has done it all:
✅ Coxless double
✅ Coxed double
✅ Coxed quad
✅ Coxless quad
✅ …And, in the year we started dating, a single. (I like to think there was a bit of showing off involved. And yes, I was impressed.)

Hungarian Parliament from the Danube

Test Your Rowing Knowledge!

While you’re here, let me ask you two questions:

1️⃣ Which boat class holds the current Budapest-Baja course record? (In other words, what’s the fastest boat for this crazy distance, do you think?)

2️⃣ What’s the fastest recorded time?

I’ll reveal the answers at the end.

Training, Crew Bonding, and… Sharing Too Much Information

Training for Budapest-Baja is like training for a marathon—you put in the miles. The more kilometers in the boat (and on your backside), the better. I raced the regatta once in a double—and no, not with Lez. We both agreed that putting our fledgling relationship through a 10+ hour endurance test wasn’t the best idea. Because here’s the thing: rowing 165 km non-stop with someone isn’t just camaraderie. It’s a full-life exposure experience. You learn things about your crewmate that, under normal circumstances, would only surface 10 years into a marriage. And the most ridiculous part? The next day, we do a 500m sprint race. Imagine waking up after 14,000+ strokes, your hands covered in blisters, your skin raw from chafing, your body aching in places you didn’t know existed—and then hopping back in a boat for an all-out sprint.

Lez's hands after 165km are not too shabby

Lez’s Most Legendary Budapest-Baja Moment

One year, Lez’s double partner got sick during the race and had to pull out—with 100 km still to go. Now, by this point in the race, you’re already questioning your life choices. You’re sitting in the middle of the Danube, between populated areas, and let’s just say that…
🚽 bathroom breaks require a bucket or a jar. Told you this was a “too much information” kind of race. But did Lez quit? Absolutely not. He just shrugged, rowed the rest of the race alone in a double, and finished. If that doesn’t tell you what kind of person Lez is, I don’t know what will.

The Finish Line

Since I only did it once, I’m just happy I made it. My amazing double partner, Kriszti, and I managed to snag silver, and we were very proud of that—especially in a slow year when everyone was struggling.

And Now, the Answers to Your Questions!

1️⃣ The fastest boat class? A men’s coxless quad (with one female athlete, but for the boat to be officially classified as "mixed," it has to be 50/50).

2️⃣ The course record? Under 9 hours.

And finally, coming back to the original question…Do Ya Even Row?

The answer?

Not, unless it involves at least 10 hours of absolute hell.