I push off the wall and glide underwater. Slowly the top of
my head reaches the surface and I blow out the air from my lungs. I turn my
head to the left and breathe in air that fills my lungs. With each stroke my
arms reach farther down the pool, stretching from my shoulders to my
fingertips. I take one last strong stroke to the end of the pool and using the momentum;
I flip my legs over and push off the wall and head back down the pool. I feel
strong as I power through the water.
Or, perhaps I feel like I’m lifting concrete arms barreling through
class 2 rapids.
I was happy that my speedo fit for last Monday night’s swim
practice. Or at least I thought it fit. Once I arrived at the pool and pulled
off my t-shirt, all I could see were the specks of rotten lycra flakes
everywhere. Hopefully my suit will make it through this practice I thought to
myself.
The coach wanted to
see me swim to assess my technique and speed. I had been on the waiting list
for a year, so I didn’t want to oversell or undersell my capabilities. I
described myself as a former, out-of-shape, national level competitive
synchronized swimmer with baby weight to lose. My goal for the workout was
to keep up as much as possible and make it through the hour-long workout.
The workout felt great and crappy all at the same time. The
power from my arms wasn’t there and my breath control is no longer at the capacity it once was. But I had fun; I loved the workout (which is much more
interesting than just swimming for an hour) and swimming with other people was motivating. Considering I haven’t had a proper swim workout with a coach in twenty
years, I achieved my goals for the evening. For the most part I
kept up with the other three swimmers in my lane and I made it through the
whole hour.
Besides swimming in a rotten speedo, the other funny moment
for the night was swimming 25 meters underwater. Usually, this is not a problem
for this former synchronized swimmer. During my competitive years, I could swim
50 meters long course underwater. Since my synchro days, I’ve
added on a whole lot of natural buoyancy to my body. So only after five strokes
and 12 meters prematurely, my head popped to the surface. After that little
snafu, I switched from breast stroke to dolphin kick to go the rest of the way
underwater.
Even though I was slow, and out-of-shape, the coach saw potential. From my technique, she could tell that I was a former swimmer and
assured me that many swimmers have been in my situation, attempting to get back
in shape after pregnancy weight gain.
A week later, my arms feel stronger and I can still feel
effects of last Monday’s workout. I’m looking forward to next week's start of the weekly
practices. And with time, whenever I turn my head for a breath, I'll take in more air and less water. (I burped for 15 hours after the workout ended from inhaling so much water.)
Awesome!! :)
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