Vicarious

The nice part of watching other people swim in the Olympics is imagining yourself as a water sprite riding on the swimmer’s shoulder. Or maybe you’re a speck of something -- a fly on their swim cap. You go for the swim, too. The videography is so good now that you can see and feel the underwater swim as well. And, as I was told by the woman who taught me to swim at age 49, you can learn from watching other people swim. Yes, I believe it. I can think about my shoulders and watch their shoulders perform a stroke with strength, beauty and control and understand the ways I can improve my own. I recognize that I have to accommodate my shoulder’s aches and pains. I see how a lack of flexibility in another area puts a strain on that shoulder. Watching the Olympians I see how I can fix some things. At the Olympics I get to see the excellent form and I can put that image before me to emulate. It is a reversal of mentoring sort of if mentoring is about old giving to young. Instead I emulate their athleticism, strength, determination, competitiveness and practiced form. I’m no Olympian. I’m not even a good swimmer. I practice swimming for fitness, contemplation, inspiration and community. My wise teacher told me after I’d accomplished some aqua confidence that anything that gets you from point A in the shallows to point B in the deep and back can be considered “swimming.” Her point being that, though there are standards and techniques in our sport, there is a lot of benefit and pleasure even if you can’t quite get up to them . . . as long as you don’t drown. And, BTW, let’s teach more kids to swim to avoid more accidental drownings. During the Summer Olympics I can get very excited by the swimming meets. I’m the water sprite, the fly on a swim cap. I’m there!

liquid courage

My brain never clicks off when I swim. Some of the time I'm assessing my technique -- goading myself at times. Some of the time I'm contemplating soulful matters and some of the time it is the sunlight on the water that reflects a little bird that sits on the roof. I had a great and exuberant accomplishment in the pool this morning. I was stroking around before aqua aerobics class. My front crawl felt good and smooth. When I reached the wall I tucked my legs and kept my head down and turned at the wall and began the swim back. I came up calmly when I’d made the turn and continued to breathe evenly. The next breath was a little anxious when I realized what I’d done. I had finally conquered the tizzy of panic that hits when I hit the wall at the end of the lane. I almost always pull up to take a safe breath for the swim back down the lane. This time I had the confidence and the strength to make the turn and take the breath in rhythm. My muscles behaved with assurance. There was no question of inability. It made me feel good that I did something I’d not been able to do before.

New Suit

Perhaps it's the psychological effect of having accomplished a slimmer suit, but I felt more energetic in the pool this morning. I've gone through a few suits in my twice a week aqua aerobics class. The chemicals are harsh. They take a toll. I replace them, but I don't throw them out – not sure why. This new one is a size smaller than the others. I got it because they didn't have my regular size. I think I've got a new regular size. It felt like the suit gave a little boost to the workout. The clutch of women who come to my class are always checking out Marshall's for suits. We can't be paying $70 or $80 for a swimsuit. We put them through a rigorous workout – for a period of about 90 minutes for each class. We note the progression of fading. It's pretty steep from bright and colorful to colorless. We try to stock up for the off–season. We worry about the suits getting threadbare along the back seam that goes over our behinds. This is so bad a look that even a woman who doesn't know your name will let you know you're exposed.