I got into rowing my senior year in high school. Growing up in southeast Washington, D.C., which is mostly black, I sometimes had anger toward whites. I thought doing something considered �white� would help me get over some of my negative feelings.

Everyone wanted me to play football, because I was big and fast. But I always leaned toward the unexpected. I also played the oboe. I was cool with everybody in high school, but I knew I was different in other ways too. I was living this ultrastraight life. In the end my friends shrugged off my rowing by saying, �Oh, he�s doing something offbeat again.�

I continued rowing my freshman year at Northeastern University in Boston, but my studies forced me to stop. Then I got cancer two weeks before graduation. I had back pains but figured it was nothing. I was 22, in great health, and an athlete! I started losing feeling in my legs, and became temporarily partially paralyzed.

When I went to the emergency room, they said, �You have to have surgery�tonight.� I had a six-centimeter tumor in my spinal column. The diagnosis was non-Hodgkin�s lymphoma. I�m six years in remission now.

The cancer brought my separate worlds together: my 50-something boyfriend, my straight black friends, my gay white buddies, my family. Everyone was opening up to me, so that�s when I came out to a larger circle of college friends. They were cool and told me they already knew. When my gay friends kissed me in the hospital, my straight friends didn�t squirm.

I didn�t get back into the sport until 2002, when I moved back to Boston after spending two years in Philadelphia to be with my boyfriend of seven years. I felt bad that I�d quit. Every time I saw a crew in the water I wanted to be a part of it. I noticed there was a gay rowing group, the Boston Bay Blades, so I joined. Now I do sweep rowing, which is one oar per person in a group of four or eight.

I�m only semi-out to the team I primarily row with, Community Rowing Inc., which is mostly straight. I don�t hide anything. I�ll tell them I row with the Bay Blades. Most just go, �Oh, OK.� It�s no big deal.

Rowing appeals to my perfectionist nature. It�s a thinking man�s sport and as challenging as any of the projects I tackle as a software engineer. It�s also the ultimate team sport. Everyone has to be in sync. And you know all these homosexuals are going to get it right, because we�ll bitch about it!

To read more of Richardson�s story and inspiring profiles of other gay athletes, including Jamie Nesbitt and Ryan Quinn, pick up a copy of the July issue of Out.