A Cool Thousand

I don't know why I always feel the need to update you on my swimming progress before anything else. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that it's my poorest event, and, therefore, provides a much richer store of entertaining and awkward moments. Regardless, I have have two swimming experiences this past week that are somewhat notable.

The first experience was this past Wednesday (our typical swim day). Keep in mind that the first time I had successfully swam more than 50 M without a significant pause was the week before. With that in mind, I set out to do my first 100, knowing now that I was capable of swimming that distance without drowning. When I hit the 100 M mark, I thought, I may just have enough in me to go another 50. So I did. I then paused for breath, and was surprised to find that I actually felt pretty good. After my pulse had slowed down again, I was ready to give it another try. Somewhere out beyond the stratosphere, some planets must have aligned, because I then swam a full 300 M. Then I swam another 300 M. Then, just to be able to say I actually swam a 1000 meters in a single morning, I knocked out another 250 M. Bear in mind that Matthew can do his army crawl faster than I was swimming, so it's not as impressive as it initially sounds, but it's the first time I actually thought I might have a shot at surviving the swim portion of a triathlon.

Then Saturday came.

All jazzed up from my experience on Wednesday, I made it to the gym Saturday morning to give the pool another go. My goal was to swim another 1000. I didn't. Not even close. The problem was that they had a children's swim class, and all the rest of us were quarantined to a single lane for “circle swimming” – a devious nautical term meaning, “torture through peer-pressure.” We started out with three of us, Jordan, an old dude with a broken foot, and me. Knowing that I was likely the weakest swimmer of the bunch, I generously offered to let the other two start out and I would follow. I did just fine for the first 25 M, but then started falling behind. I figured that was ok, because there were only three of us and we had plenty of lane to work with, but I picked up the pace a little bit so Jordan wouldn’t lap me. That was when I realized that I don’t actually have another pace. In trying to go just a little bit faster, I immediately found my heart rate racing, my breath becoming more laborious, and my muscles burning like crazy. I had to pull out of the loop and stop after just 100 M or so to try to catch my breath. In the mean time, another guy joined us, bringing our merry band to four. I jumped back into the rotation, but the reduced cushion of space was evident, and I felt even more pressure to maintain the pace. I stopped again, and another guy jumped in. His name was “Mr. Mega-Macho Olympia Has-Been in a Jack Black Body,” but we’ll call him Mr. Olympia for short. He was a decade or two older than me, and appeared even less fit (if possible), but had evidently swum quite a bit in his past life and immediately began gouging out monstrous strokes as he warmed up with the butterfly. Nice. So with five of us in one lane, I jumped back into the rotation and tried again. The combination of the increased pace and the waves created by Mr. Olympia were more than my feeble abilities could handle, and once again, I found myself on the sidelines watching as Mr. Olympia rotated through a variety of different strokes. The great part was that he apparently decided that all of us were too slow, so he started going up and down the middle of the lane, forcing the rest of us to swim around him. Eventually, Jordan and the broken foot dude stopped too, and Jordan coached me a bit on my “technique.” He decided that I needed some kickboard work, which turns out to be an even more devious form of aquatic torture. I found myself amazed that it was, in fact, physically possible to swim slower than my normal pace, and seven minutes later when I reached the other side of the pool, I had the pleasure of turning around and going back. By the end, Jordan made the astute observation that my “kick wasn’t very good.” I got some advice from one of the guards, tried a little bit more with the cursed kickboard, tried another 100 M on my own, and then threw in the towel for the day. Maybe someday I’ll be able to look back on it and laugh. Maybe.

As far as running is concerned, my biggest issue has been breathing. I don’t feel like my body is wearing out or can’t go any further, but for some reason I haven’t been able to get my breathing, and consequently my heart, under control. I’ve been running as a warm-up to my workout a couple of times a week, but it’s generally only about a mile at a 6.5 mph pace. The success side of this story, is that I was able to go 1.5 miles this morning and actually felt like I could have kept going (which is a first since starting to go to the gym again). I don’t know what the difference was, but it sure was a nice change of pace. Another nice change of pace is that I’ve gone down one belt loop. Boo-yah!

In closing, Jordan and I are actually to the point that we’re selecting different triathlons that we want to compete in. I think our first sprint triathlon will be in Austin the last Saturday in June – the “ATS Super Sprint.” It’s only a 300 M swim, a 9.2 mile bike, and a 2 mile run, so it's a good one for rookies. I actually think I could finish it now, but it certainly wouldn’t be a pretty sight. Hopefully, by June I’ll be able to keep moving the whole time and won’t have to walk during the run or hop along the bottom of the pool during the swim. If any of you happen to be down in Texas during that time, you are more than welcome to join us. If not, I'll let you know how it goes and I'll be sure to take several photos as proof.

P.S. - By way of an officially documented apology, it's possible that I may have used some artistic liberties when quoting Jen's comment about my love handles. She really was giving me a compliment, but I thought it sounded much funnier the way I said it. I still do.