Back in the Pool

My last official swim meet was likely sometime in 2003, the year I graduated from high school. I didn't swim competitively in college and only did laps for fitness periodically. The story I always told myself is I want to keep swimming the rest of my life. Casual down-and-back or racing, it didn't matter.

Two years ago I started practicing with the US Masters team that trains at the pool where I coach. The swimmers were generally gung-ho about going to meets and competing, and asked me a few times if I wanted to join them. And I generally answered them, a la Seinfeld's "I choose not to run!" excuse for why he never agreed to re-race his former classmate Duncan.

I hope you enjoyed the Scandinavian subtitles as much as I did.

It's not that I didn't feel the swimmer's/racer's competitive itch any more -- I don't think that ever leaves you. But I just didn't feel a desire to race at that point.

But after continuing to coach high school and club swimmers, feeling and feeding off the energy at meets, and feeling myself improve at practice, I decided to give a meet a try again. For the first time in 12 years.

It didn't hurt that the open-invitation Colonies Zone Short Course Championships took place at George Mason University, about 15 minutes away from my house.

I registered, finally, with US Masters swimming and signed up for a pretty tame slate of events. No need to go out of control the first time out.

As for entry times, I made them up entirely, based on what I've either done or think could be done in my present condition in practice. Turns out I set the bar a little low.

Swimming between 5 and 20 seconds faster than my seed time was, admittedly, a little ego boost: It felt good to win decisively. Then again, I was typically the youngest in my heats by at least a few years. There was a 70-year-old a few lanes down in the 200 free.

No, I didn't only race senior citizens. But honestly I wasn't paying too much attention to either side. This was about going out and racing for me, myself and I -- seeing what was there, what happened when I pushed on the accelerator.

I had simple goals, starting with the 100 freestyle. I just wanted to go under a minute. The first time I was 12. Once in college I managed to push a :59. Since then, nowhere close. In the last few months in practice, I've pushed as fast as a 1:05. At this meet, I went 55.73, good for 10th out of 16 in my 30-34 age group. Goal achieved.

The rest of the events, by the numbers:

200 IM:                                   2:26.04
50 Breast (200 medley relay)    :35.64
200 Free:                                 2:05.63
100 IM (YES!)                        1:05.44
50 Free:                                     :25.1

high school is over

And no one on my team knows this show. Tough.

Actually, high school is not over. Not by a long shot. And I couldn't be happier to be not in high school any longer. But the high school swim season is definitely over. We've seen the state championship meet come and go. We've even had the end-of-season banquet.

That's how you know it's over.

For the majority of swimmers on our team, the season was actually over back in January. That's when the regular season wrapped up and the series of district, regional and state championship meets began. From a roughly 50-person team, less than half swam at districts, less at regions and states.

I like to think all the swimmers enjoyed themselves during the season, and the generally impressive results of the championship meets reflect the good, well-coached time had by those particular swimmers down the stretch. We had a number of strong finishes at the state meet, including a champion and runner-up. Not too shabby.

Based on my experience and coaching competence, it was really a tale of two seasons: the regular season and the post season. During the regular season, I spent most of my coaching time working with swimmers who don't swim year-round for a club team. With them, I had more opportunities to work on fundamental stroke technique, basic race strategy, standard competition preparation. I've been where they've been.

But our more elite swimmers, the ones putting in many practices elsewhere and only showing up to the obligatory one high school practice per week, the ones competing at the state and even national age group level -- these young people who continued into the post season became our focus as coaches. I can't speak for our entire staff, but talent and achievements of these swimmers have already eclipsed my own. 

To be honest, it was a little intimidating. If this swimmer spends most of his or her training time with another, most likely more elite coach, then what is there to do in the comparatively brief time they're with us? Babysit? Just make sure they get to their events on time and remove all exterior jewelry?

Don't start imagining sad face balloons -- this isn't a pity party. I can coach, and I've done so with various age groups for collectively close to a decade. Just not at "elite" levels.

So rather than try to compensate by over-coaching these high-achieving swimmers to impose what competence I do have and being laughed off, I decided to simply ask these young people what they needed from me.

And, it appeared, they were more than happy to do so. I got asked for input on starting technique, breakouts, turns, pacing splits -- nothing outside my wheelhouse. And being asked a few more detailed questions than I'm used to motivated me to elevate my performance as a coach: I went to coaching blogs, instructional forums, Michael Phelps instructional videos. I trained. 

These kids were content to ask me for help, and I wanted to give them the best help I could, with all the resources available to me. And, it appeared, they were genuinely thankful. Regardless of who coaches who when and for how long, at the end of the day hearing someone truly appreciates your effort and help -- that you both understand the common goal is making them a better athlete and person -- then that's all that matters.  

Maybe this is all a bit too rosy a reminiscence, but it's the end of high school, and we all get a license to be a little emotional.