The Perils of Swimming Again

With the end of Winter Training season, racing season is just around the corner. No, not the crappy running racing season that never actually seems to stop. Nor the duathlon racing season which happens to fill the void between winter and racing. Whereas I recognize that those are real sports with outstanding athletes, they're just not good sports. I'm not really sure why those amazing athletes waste their skills on rudimentary endeavors. Triathlons are just a couple of weeks away!

In the Winter, I avoid the Y mostly because I'm too lazy to drive to the pool. I put off swimming until the last minute and even then I do it half-assed. Now that the first real sporting events are on the horizon, I have to decide between risking in some chlorine exposure or sucking in the water. Since I naturally suck, I don't need to add to the embarrassment. Therefore, I've been spending a lot more time at the YMCA lately.

(Sorry, still stuck on the Star Wars thing.)

One of the dangers of swimming, and one of my personal pet peeves, is that whatever song was playing on the radio will remain stuck in my head for the entire swim set. Even worse is that it's not the entire song, mostly the chorus. I've found that I typically cannot remember the rest of the lyrics and remember how many laps are in a 200 at the same time. (I have difficultly counting a 200 without additional distractions.) I doubt that I'm the only one.

The song doesn't even have to be good.

When you go to the Y, especially for the purpose of swimming, you really cannot avoid the locker room. Most pools, my Y included, force me to go through the Men's Locker Room just to gain access to the pool deck. I suppose that I could go through the Ladies or the Family Locker Rooms.

 Quick poll: Which is less creepy? Grown man in Ladies LR or in Family LR without a child?

 Now, I get to the Y before work. This is pre-8:00 am. None of the people fit the conventional definition of young, per se. There are 2 distinct attitudes of how to behave in the locker room: those who show their junk with reckless abandon and those who cover their junk at most but the shortest, necessary periods of times. If you separate these groups of people, there's a distinct age disparity.

The Change of the Guard

So, I headed in to the YMCA for my workout the other day. Regardless of the prescribed set, I enter the pool area with exactly 1 thought in mind: Does my butt look fat in these speedos? I hope that the hot chick is working the lifeguard stand.

Understand, I have absolutely no desire to interact with said hotguard. She's half my age. Even if I were 20 years younger, I would probably behave exactly the same way I do now: jump up and down like an untrained monkey admire from a distance. I lack the confidence to talk to hot chicks and she was/ is way out of my league. I simply enjoy the pleasure of pool candy whilst working out. Plus, she always seems to be bored out of her gourd causing her to walk laps around the pool deck. There's something else on which to focus on as you, ahem, stroke 16 times per 25 yards to flip it over and repeat.

Much to my chagrin, I entered the deck and saw this dude. After a second glance, I knew this guy. We had coached a team together several years ago. In his current manifestation, with his hairstyle and red guard shirt, he resembled Chuck Sherman from the American Pie movie franchise.

Don't get me wrong, I like this guy (even though I can't remember his real name). He was a good coach and a guy of solid character. He worked well with the kids and, unlike several of the other coaches for the club team, he had an idea of how to swim. We exchanged a few pleasantries. I spied the deck clock and made a mental note as to where the second hand was in relation to the 60. He didn't need to follow my gaze. He's a swimmer and knew exactly where I was looking. At the 50 second mark, like he was using to force and in tuned to the black hand, he shut up letting me get ready to start my set. Like I said, I like this guy and he knows his stuff.

My workout for the day was enough to make Olympians writhe in fear rather vanilla. I did a 500 yard warm-up. Then I snapped of 10x200s. I followed the set with 5x50s hard (I always put the hard stuff at the end). As I was cooling down, there was a change of the guards.

Dammit. My workout was done. It was time for me to leave. And the hottie walks in. This was not the girl I had in mind an hour ago. She was, umm, better. You know the type. Blonde. Ponytail. Cute. Late teens or maybe early twenties (and the simple fact that I am obsessing over the age difference is proof that I'm an old fart who has not yet had his mid-life crisis). Yet there she is. The pic at the right is not her but it's pretty darn close. I look. My girl is wearing shorts with an inscription on the back. I have no idea what it says because, err, I'm not wearing my glasses on the pool deck. I look away. I look at the deck clock. I glance at the time, which just so happens to be located right behind the lifeguard stand (I also can't really see the numbers but I'm the only one who knows that). Back at her. Crap, I am being far too obvious. The clock clearly says one thing... It's time to leave.

As I walk out of the pool, I wave my hand at the lifeguard stand. I do this after every workout, regardless of who is working. I have never actually had the need of a lifeguard while swimming and I pray that I never will. This does not mean that I don't want them there. They all do good work for just over minimum wage. Imagine that, the people paid to save our lives earn just a little bit less than the average McDonald's employee. The lifeguards have earned and deserve my gratitude. The least I could do is thank them for keeping me alive. Not many other people at the Y do this, which is a huge shame.

As I wave and smile, I take one more look at the lifeguard stand. I smile as I realize the full weight of the awesomeness of what I have just seen. I was just kept safe under the watchful eye of the Sherminator! Life is good.

Swimming versus "Swimming"

I'm gonna try and start swimming next week. Contrary to most athletes/ Americans, I don't find swimming all that difficult. I started swimming back in high school. I swam in college. I swam after college. I enjoy it. Gives me time to think. I don't do it much because I suck at biking and running and because I hate getting in my car and driving to workout. I really would love to put a pool in my basement. Then I would swim daily. Also, I'd get to reap the benefits of the free cologne that comes with every workout.

I'm pretty sure that my swimming prowess was one of the driving factors that led to a life of triathloning. Granted that I am not as fast as I used to be (not that I was ever 'fast' in the hs/ college competitive sense) nor as serious about my times. I suppose that if I trained harder I might knock off as much as 3-5 whole minutes in an Iron distance event and almost 1 minute in something shorter. Yet, the bike and run seem to be the way to bigger time gains. Swimming, in all its glory, gets de-prioritized. Unfortunately, in triathlons of any distance, the power of swimming is grossly under appreciated.

Wife's suit optional

I have friends that still regard the stuff you do in a backyard pool as 'swimming'. It so happened that one day, ages ago, a friend (back before I was a triathlete and still had friends) asked me to go swimming. Since I'm a swimmer, this appealed to me. Yes. I'll do it. I have a bag pre-packed with swimming gear. Goggles- yes. Shampoo/ conditioner- yes. Paddles- yes. Buoy- yes. Nutrition- yes. Man, we were going to have a great workout! Much to my chagrin that we ended up in his backyard. Why was I the only one with a speedo? Do I really need to do flip turns in a 15' diameter, round, plastic tub filled with water? They have snorkels, is that allowed? Why didn't I add sunscreen to my gear bag? How many laps in this thing equals 100 yards? Where's the deck clock? Where's the deck?

These questions went greatly unanswered but I was determined to get in a good workout. I got started. Push off the wall near the ladder. Glide. Stroke once. Breathe. Flip. Crap, you're not supposed to breathe on the last stroke before the turn. I hope no one was watching. Glide. Stroke. Flip. Crap. Did it again. This is the first hypoxic warm-up of my life. Glide. Stroke. Flip. Crap. Someone had to have seen that. Coach is going to kill me.

Had I known I was going to be a triathlete, I would have chalked this up to practicing for a mass swim start. "Cannonball!" was announced and greeted with a tsunami. Back then, I was just annoyed. I had shared the pool with the diving team. They knew how to wait for a open space before prancing off their bouncy thingy into the deep end. Was there a deep end in this thing? I forgot to look. Either way, this diver-wanna be completely skewed my only stroke for this lap. Patience Banter, we'll work out a system. Out of nowhere, hands grabbed my shoulders and yanked me up. This was more than some loser tapping my feet signaling a pass. Way over the line.

Popular version of 'swimming'

Okay, I now know that most people's view of swimming is splashing around in water, throwing toys, sword fighting with flaccid noodles, and senseless horseplay. Fun but not really a workout. Sometimes, their version of swimming includes not moving at all, it's just sitting on some sort of inflatable. I actually had to go out and purchase trunks for such occasions. Big, baggy things with pockets and a mesh lining (seriously, what in the world does the mesh do anyway?). Do you realize that you cannot find trunks without flowers? Nowadays, you can't even find them in a length above your knees. Caution- I feel a rant coming on...

When did men's fashion relegate that 'shorts' had to be 3/4 length affairs? When women wear them, they are called 'capris'. Yet modern fashion has decided that a man's beastly hairy jams be hidden so that only the calf is showing and even the calf tends to be covered with socks. The word 'shorts' means just that- short. My legs are works of art not to be shunned from society just because the experts think it's cool. I am not an animal.

Even going to the pool now, I have switched from traditional speedos to jammers. I am not sure why there is a negative stigma for swimmers wearing swimming gear in public. Cyclists can relate. I go to the Y and I have added cover-up shorts to my pre-packed bag. It's not that I am ashamed, but when in Rome...

Left side please

I'll definitely go to the pool. Since I've not been in the water for months, I'm gonna start off light and slow. I am secretly ashamed that my entire planned workout was once considered the warm-up. I will practice patience and focus on what's important. At least there are won't be  flowers, mesh, or pockets on my suit.