Thanksgivukkah!

As my last post asserts, summer is in fact over. So over, in fact, that it is almost Thanksgiving. The outdoor pools are closed -- have been for some time -- winter sports are underway at area high schools and the Festival of Lights is upon us as well!

Yes, Hanukkah: the less-important-than-Passover yet still gift-laden Jewish holiday. The faith of menorah-lighters and dreidel-spinners follows a "lunasolar" calendar that schedules important dates based on the movements of both the sun and moon. So their holidays fall at different times each year, which is rather refreshing, if not vexing for social and professional calendars during the Christian holiday seasons.

But this year, the first since 1888 (according to the Washington Post), Hanukkah comes "early" (read: much before its holiday-in-crime Christmas) with its first day falling serendipitously on Thanksgiving. The coincidence has brought Hanukkah media attention the likes of which it hasn't seen in some time, by my judgement, paired with the coining of a Franken-holiday distinction: "Thanksgivukkah".

This would all be very clever... if it hadn't already been done before, to wonderful effect, on the hit Fox teen-novela "The OC." Here's a little taste.

Pure genius. Forget GOT, Dexter, Breaking Bad -- this was premium, addictive television before any of those so-called "award-winners". But I digress.

What does this have anything to do with a swimming blog? Just that the cosmic confluence of consumption-centric holidays means time spent away from the pool with spiking caloric intake. We cancel practices so kids can be with their families and stuff their faces. It is the American way. And for the right or wrong of it, competitive athletes like swimmers tend to be competitive when it comes to eating, especially around Thanksgiving.

Though if your body is used to burning hundreds, if not thousands of calories in a given workout, one day of total gluttony shouldn't be too much of an obstacle or setback. As a rambunctious little yardage machine, my high school self wouldn't think twice about serving up seconds, thirds, fourths of everything on Thanksgiving. No conscience, no regrets, no limits. Where did it all go? 

Wherever it went, it's not going as rapidly, if at all, these days. Having been on the losing end of numerous "food coma" Thanksgivings nearing the conclusion of my third decade, the discomfort just doesn't seem worth the thrill of actually chowing down. I've grown to value enjoying the time after the meal as much as the before and the during.

Does that mean I'm not trying to get in as much swimming, lifting and other cardio as possible in hopes of supercharging my metabolism to comfortably process more than it's used to on a daily basis? Hell no. As much as I love Thanksgiving leftovers, they're never as good as round one. I'm not planning to overeat, but just trying to free up a little more room in tank.

Now our soon-to-be-family (by mehwage) hosts are Jewish, so my sincere hope is we'll take every opportunity to meld the non- and secular holidays into the next-best super holiday known to man. We miss you, Seth Cohen.

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.

Face the Music

It was winter 1999. I was a freshman on my high school swim team and "Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me" had just come out the previous summer. I doubt many, if any, of my high school swimmers remember either the year or the film. Does that make me "old"? Don't answer that.

The movie is an otherwise forgettable sequel to the fabulous progenitor of the Austin Powers franchise, aside from a few things: Heather Graham, Mini Me, the phrase "Get in my belly!" and Lenny Kravitz' cover of The Guess Who's slow-burning rocker "American Woman". I bought the soundtrack on CD simply because of this song (does that sentence mean anything to you, boys and girls?). This was just something we did before there was iTunes, Napster, etc.

Lenny and his funky guitar stylings became part of my pre-meet ritual. I would blast Kravitz' cover though non-ear-covering or noise-canceling headphones from my shock-protected, bass-boosted Panasonic CD player on the bus, repeatedly, before each meet. Not social enough yet to feel comfortable talking with other swimmers and relaxing prior to the swim, I would press play, close my eyes and let the juicy bass line and guitar riff waltz me into my race mindset.

Here's where I went:

To be honest, I'd never watched this official music video for what became one of my favorite pump-up songs until about ten minutes ago. But there's a lot swimmers could learn from it as an instructional tool. Just fast-forward to 2:42, and there's Ms Graham demonstrating impeccable streamline technique. Highly commendable! She must've been a swimmer prior to her illustrious acting career...

I'm curious what music everyone's listening to these days to get psyched and amped up for swimming. Michael Phelps and Ryan Lochte claim to benefit from some manner of heavy-hitting rap "beatz" prior to their events. I'll admit to falling victim lately to the likes of Carly Rae Jepson and Taylor Swift urging me onward during masters practice. 

But don't blame me; blame the secret geniuses who've perfected the formula for ultimate pop performance. "Call Me Maybe" is exquisitely planned and executed, ear-burrowing, Top 40 gold. It just is.

The Razor's Edge

Suddenly the high school team I coach and I find ourselves in the final week of practice for the regular season. Our last dual meet is this Friday, with the district, regional and state championship meets following over the next several weeks. But for a number of our swimmers, this is it.

And as such, our head coach is encouraging our male athletes to shave. Yes, to shave. Now, the word "shaving" in swimming actually has a double meaning, but both are in the context of preparing for a big meet. 

In one sense, shaving refers to reducing the number of yards per practice. This is generally done somewhat gradually, and in a specifically timed manner. Throughout the season, swimmers are pounded with yardage in an effort to both continually break down and strengthen muscles, as well as develop a hearty aerobic base. Between hefty practices, their bodies have little time to rest, so many experience soreness, fatigue, even malaise, etc.

But with an important meet nearing, coaches will shave, or "taper" practices shorter and shorter to give swimmers and their fatigued bodies an opportunity to rest and more fully recover. And in essence, because their bodies are in the routine of turning over such great amounts of energy and effort to keep up with the grueling practice regimen, suddenly when less work is required, swimmers experience an overabundance of energy that is then expected to be used to go faster than ever before in the important meet.

There's also a fair amount of excitement over having a two-hour practice instead of two-and-a-half; then one-and-a-half hours, then one. It's mental shaving as well, I suppose.

But there's also literal shaving. As in shaving cream, razors and boys. High school boys will typically get together and shave at least their legs, to complement the shaved practice yards. Sometimes boys will get carried away and do their arms, chests, heads, feet, backs, etc as well. Boys do get carried away at times.

On a basic level, one could make the argument that shaving one's appendages decreases drag (on some more than others) by removing excess hair from the skin. And it's true, the drag coefficient probably does decrease somewhat. But honestly, I think the number is nominal. It's not a big difference. What IS a big difference is the feeling: the tingling, the intangible-tangible sensation of shaved skin against the suddenly much cooler air and water, the tiny cuts made in the skin by the razor exciting surface-level nerves that have been disrupted for perhaps the first time ever.

I say tangible because you can feel the difference between hair and no hair. That's simple - it's there, then it's gone. But "intangible" because you can't quantify how much of a difference it will make in terms of time in the race. Having a shaved body, plus shaved yardage, could drop you half a second in one race. Or it could spark a spectacular meet, a series of sensational swims with huge chunks of time just melting off personal bests like meat off a perfectly slow-roasted pork rib. You don't know. And that's exciting.

So this week at practice will be something of a transition. District's isn't until next week, so we won't get into full-blown shaving or tapering, put sets will become more race- rather than yardage-oriented. And there will be more reminders to stock up on razors and shaving cream. Fun.

Can you feel the water tonight?

The high school competition season officially got underway two Friday nights ago, with our boys and girls taking on an opponent squad from way across town. The girls won their meet (boys and girls are scored separately) handily and the boys lost by a slim margin. Lots of spirit, lots of fun and a few swimmers actually posted regional and state cut times - right out of the gate. There was quite a bit to be proud of and excited about.

Members of the team and coaches went out to a late dinner following the meet, as per tradition. In addition to sharing more of our swimming backgrounds (the head coach and I are each in our first season with the team), learning about the phenomenon of "snap chatting" and cheering for Stanford's football team to beat UCLA in their conference championship game, a couple of the swimmers brought up the concept of "feeling the water".

It's not something that's talked about very often, at least outside of swimming-intensive circles. But it's an aspect of swimming that can be very important. You see, having a "good feel for the water", typically corresponds with a swimmer being in the pool practicing at least once per day, at least six days per week, at least 40-50 weeks per year. It means tapping into your reptilian brain.

Regardless of your physical state and stamina, humans just weren't meant to move through the water. As far as mobility's concerned, humans are primarily built to run - chase prey, escape danger and scorned lovers - and walk - gather nuts and berries, raise money for breast cancer research, etc. We are bipeds, not quadri-paddlers.

But while our frames are what they are, the reason why Planet of the Apes is just a movie and dogs don't walk us is because the unique brains of homo sapiens are adaptable: we can train our brains to think differently, to manipulate our default programming. This is learning. This is skill. This is swimming. Humans weren't made to swim, but humans can become swimmers.

Becoming something completely different doesn't happen overnight. And it's not something that stays put after you've achieved it once. Yes, muscle memory will help you get back in and do a flip turn without thinking, after you've been out of the water for years, but not much else. You can lose your "feel" after only being out of the pool for a week. It's tenuous - liquid, one might say.

Having a feel for the water is an elevated status of in-pool consciousness; after hours and hours of practice, it's nearly an out-of-body feeling that your moving through the water is somehow better or easier than moving over land.

However, many swimmers will admit they're not terribly coordinated on land. Maybe that's because they spend more time focusing on their movements in the water than the alternative. Maybe swimming just attracts the naturally clumsy. Maybe it's chicken-and-the-egg.

So is this state of feel for the water the ultimate goal in swimming? Or just a milestone, a means to higher achievement, faster times? Or does it even truly exist? Maybe it's just an imaginary figment swimmers convince themselves is real of to rationalize the hallucinatory effects of hours upon hours of exposure to diluted hypochlorite acid.

I guess it doesn't matter. Back to practice tomorrow.

Back on the Deck

I started this blog over the summer, while coaching for a community summer league team. Well, that season finished. And I didn't write much about it. Too bad. We move on. Now, I'm back coaching again. This time, with a high school team. This time, I will write more. I will.

I've never coached at the high school level before, though I have coached high school-age swimmers in summer league, so I'm not too worried. Kids are kids; swimming is swimming.

I'm a little late to the practice party, having had to wait for the requisite county TB test results, paperwork processing, background check, and concussion training to all sort themselves out. But yesterday I got to join the team, the head coach and the other assistant coach out on the deck. I was pretty stoked. Fortunately, I'm just in time for the first dual meet: Friday night versus a district opponent.

Everyone always says this about people younger than them, going through life stages they've already been through, but I have to say, the kids look smaller than I remember everyone being when I was on a high school team. Nothing against them, it's just my observation.

Tomorrow and Friday should be interesting. The personnel of the team will change somewhat from the first few practices of this week. That's because club swimmers who spend most of the week practicing with their respective club teams will suddenly appear. There's actually a rule for it: club swimmers are only required to attend 1 high school practice per week to be eligible to swim in meets. It's nothing new - was the rule when I swam - and swimming may be one of the only high school sports where this is the case. 

Why is it the case? Because most likely, a club practice (a year-round USA Swimming team) will offer more lane space, more challenging workouts, a more consistent skill and talent level in each lane, and better (read: higher paid) coaching. My club coaches preferred if we didn't attend any high school practices - in their opinion, you would get the same benefit as an hour-long nap, maybe less.

Unfortunately, consequently, I never felt much connection with the team as a hole. I had my handful of friends, but I wasn't there for the day in, day out interactions. The other swimmers didn't know what I'd worked on, and I didn't know what they'd worked on. But when the races started, none of that mattered. 

Because swimming is an extremely individual  sport. Out of it you get EXACTLY what you put into it. Talent will only get you so far, practice yards will only get you further if you DO THEM. And if you work hard, your times will drop, you will become competitive, you will win races. And those victories are yours first, then the team's. Obviously, you want to help the team out, and scoring points by winning races helps accomplish that. But aside from a select few programs, teams as a whole don't think about going to the regional, state and national levels of high school swimming to compete. Individuals do.

That's not to say individuals shouldn't embrace the team aspect of the sport. High school is the best time to do that. Make some new friends. Bond over this common interest that sets you apart from so many of your class mates. And have fun. I remember club meets being the most boring, noncompetitive, bland events ever. But high school meets? Loud, obnoxious, emotional - fun. 

High school = fun. Really? Did I just say really that? S'pose so. For now.