What's in a meme?

This is one baby with a bright future

Memes are everywhere these days: Silly, stupid, sometimes clever snapshots of people, places and things, paired with basically non sequitur phrases, intended to flare up in popularity and be repeatedly copied and co-opted by thousands upon thousands of bored cubicle monkeys. And in that universe, there is a place for swimming, of course. I'm fond of this tumblr website: Swimming Memes (http://swimmingmemes.tumblr.com/page/6), from which I've posted an example. 

Swimming keeping up with the meme meme could be seen as a reminder that even in a world of sports that are constantly competing for public attention and participant retention, swimming is hanging in there. Like I mentioned previously in this space, I have swimmers who are also active in various other sports (for instance, I'm missing a large chunk of young ladies this week due to a field hockey camp at the local high school - yawn). 

Just like with the memes, if swimming can rise up out of the fray and make a really positive impression, then maybe, maybe, kids will remember it, even seek it out as time goes by... Awww... blech. Let's just go back to talking about how we all want to have Ryan Lochte's babies.

Out of the Blue

I hate to lose. No one aspires to not win, but still, I hate it. And I'm talking about achieving victory in a competition not decided by chance: First place by virtue of defeating the other contenders with a combination of skill, talent and will, within the rules set out for that particular event. 

When my skill, talent and will aren't enough to win, I feel wholly defeated. It's a painful experience. Losing threatens your personhood. You want to have confirmation that your best effort is enough to achieve your goals; however winning never forced anyone to question whether that was in fact their best effort...

Winning or losing in swimming is simple. First place is awarded for finishing with the fastest time. Period dot. There are no style points, no judges' scores, no foul lines to debate - numbers are black and white. Each race has many parts that can go well or poorly - fast, streamlined start but a foot slipped on the turn - but all you have at the end is a number, your time.

The question then is always the same: Was your number higher or lower than everyone else? And I hate when my number's higher; I hate to lose, but I also know it is OK to lose. Someone always has to lose for there to be a winner. And when we lose, we're more driven to improve than when we win. We should always be striving to improve, ergo losing is OK.

At this point, it might sound like I'm contradicting myself, saying I hate to lose but also think losing is alright, helpful even. Well, I'm not particularly fond of paying taxes either, but I know at least at some level I benefit from them. Perhaps the term 'necessary evil' is appropriate. It tempers the hate.

How, then, do you teach the positive side of losing to 5- to 18-year-olds in an American culture that's more competitive than ever. I have swimmers training in multiple sports, simultaneously, and if you're not making the top squad, participating in the best camps, making it to the highest level of competition (forget just focusing on one sport or extra-curricular activity!), then you've simply been left behind by the Joneses. These kids don't take losing lightly. They fear getting left behind.

Fortunately, there are other victories in swimming besides your race place, namely, the 'best time'. Finish the race second but finish with a personal-best time, and you're presented with cold, hard evidence of exerting your overall best effort. I don't necessarily believe in 'moral victory', but a best time at least provides positive fuel to the motivation fire that losing sparks. At least you're a black-and-white step closer to achieving that goal of winning.

My team lost its dual meet yesterday. And not by just a few points. Perhaps harder than losing yourself is watching people you care about lose. You can't flush the loss for them. But on the day, we had over 70 personal-best times. That's a lot of peak effort, and a lot of motivation to go back to work with on Monday.
  

take your marks

Today marked the end of our team's first full week of morning practice, as opposed to our nearly two weeks of afternoon practices that were necessary while school was still in session.

One nice thing about morning practice is the team's ability to use both pools that are owned by the community, rather than just one, to more comfortably accommodate the over 200 swimmers registered this summer. First world problems, right?

Also, I'll argue that at least the younger swimmers (8&under) have less energy in the morning than in the afternoon. Lethargic children can be a blessing.

The team's first 'A-meet' is tomorrow: A scored bout against another community team from the same division. There are over a dozen divisions in the league, each with five teams. It can get pretty competitive, though the 'main objective' is for everyone to have fun. Sometimes people lose perspective.

A-meets are comprised of individual events and relays, pitting the top three swimmers in each event from each team against one another, in all four competitive strokes. The catch is that each swimmer may only race in two individual events and a max of two relays. That's where having over a depth of 200 swimmers comes in handy.

It's pretty simple after that: Swimmers earn points for the team by finishing in the top three of the event; score the most points, win the meet. Depending on a team's win-loss record at the end of the season, they're moved up or down a division. Just to keep things interesting.

Developmental or 'B' meets take place on Monday nights. This is when the majority of the team gets a chance to compete - and better their times for a chance move up our ladder and swim on Saturday. Even though the meets aren't scored, there's still plenty of competitive spirit, especially on an individual basis when the swimmers know they're close to earning an A-meet spot.

I swam and coached with this team several years ago, and have missed it ever since. Working with kids is such an invigorating yet challenging way to spend your time - they're always coming up with new ways to prove they're more intelligent than you give them credit for, and inadvertently remind you you're older than they give you credit for. 

After a while, coaching here didn't mesh well with full-time job pursuits, being a part-time commitment out in the suburbs of Northern Virginia. But this summer, having just moved back from living abroad, I found myself in the not uncommon position of being between full-time jobs. I seized an opportunity to see if the work is as good as I remember it.

And so far, it is. There have been a few cobwebs and some rust to work out, but I think I'm getting it back. The whole work situation couldn't be much more different than my previous position (sub-editor for an English-language magazine based in Amsterdam), but the gradually resurfacing familiarity (apropos figurative language!) is helping to bridge that gap. My freestyle drills came back to me.

The season is as short as it looks on paper, wrapping up with an all-star meet in the first week of August. It's hard to believe three weeks of practice are already in the books. I'm writing this in an effort to slow down and marinate over the experience, before what ever comes next comes next.

So if the off-kilter observations of a late-twenties temporal suburbanite imploring sometimes reluctant youngsters to get in the pool and swim already is your cup of tea, then stay with me.