My morning...
Feb. 5th, 2011 07:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
khiemtranIt's just past 6 am, and I'm at the pool, trying to decide which lane to enter...
The Medium and Fast lanes have just one person each, both of them regulars. In the Medium lane is a man I see quite often. He'll spend at least an hour swimming or walking while his daughter trains with the swim squad. We've had a chat a few times, but we don't know each other's name yet. He usually swims freestyle with his head out of the water, and I've often wondered if he's training for open water swimming or if he just doesn't like wearing goggles. He's surprisingly fast given the added drag of swimming this way, but I'll be lapping him every four or five laps or so.
In the fast lane is another man I've swum with before, although we've only spoken once. He was quite a bit faster than me the last time we swam together, but he tends to sprint and then rest. He often has a full set of flippers and other learning aids, but today he doesn't seem to have any. I wait for a while to see if he's going to be sprinting, but he's just practicing his kicking on the wall. Since I'm going to be warming up anyway, I decide to take the Medium lane first.
The first man is at the other end of the pool at the time I enter the water. I start off with a slow lap and I meet up with him after two lengths. He's taking a breather and we say good morning. I'm off again. For my first spell, I'm going to concentrate on rhythm. This is one of the things I like about swimming. I start out slowly, concentrating on form over effort, and bit by bit start tuning up my stroke. Watch that crossover. Roll my body more. Breath out more before breathing on the right. Keep my head lower.
My mind is completely absorbed in a constant stream of small corrections, even as I can feel the power starting to click in from my muscles and the water start to rush past me. I'm like the engineer in a steam train, fiddling cerebally away with a dozen different controls, then gradually getting overwhelmed by all the raw, primal sensations - the noises and the vibrations - as the train starts to rocket.
I'm alone in the lane now. The first man has left to do some power walking. The man in the Fast lane has gone too, but there's someone else there now. I try to keep up with them when we set off for a lap around the same time, but they pull away. At the end of the lap, they've stopped for a rest and I keep going.
As I turn at each end, I can see other familiar faces. There's the lady in the Fast lane who's some sort of athlete. She's often here early in the morning, and she has a long and complicate routine of exercises. She's one of the few regulars left I can't either outpace or outdistance, but she's doing crunches on the side of the pool now. In the slow lane, there's another regular, an older lady who just laps up and down with a metronomic freestyle. She's not particularly fast, but she just keeps going and going and going. So far we haven't spoken yet because, well, she's always swimming...
I'm doing well with my rhythm now, but I can feel my form start to falter. Keep that head straight. Tighten those glutes. Watch that posture. Breath lower on the right.
I'm aware that I'm going slower and slower. Someone in the slow lane matches me for one entire length, and I kick a little harder. I can feel my legs start to tire, but I press on for a few more laps, until my form starts to fall away. When I finally stop, I find I've swum half an hour. I haven't counted, but I'd guess around fifteen hundred metres. A lady in the next lane strikes up a conversation when she sees me puffing, and I get my breath back, then do a few slow laps to get my form back again.
Next, it's five laps of backstroke, alternating with freestyle. This is hard work, plus my backstroke is pretty wonky, and I get fouled on the lane ropes a few times. I've been told to work on it for my back though, so I've just got to learn how to do it. I'm just glad there's no-one else in the lane while I'm zigzagging all other the place.
Back to freestyle, and suddenly there is someone else in the lane. I don't quite catch a glimpse of them, but they seem to be fast. Another lap and it turns out to be two people swimming together. I've been swimming for just over an hour now, and they both seem to be going quite fast. Never-the-less, I'm feeling good, so I decide to have a go at chasing them down.
Faster... Faster... Faster. Damn. Are they pulling away? Three laps pass and I've barely gained on them. I wonder if they're going to end up catching me instead. Still, if they're going to crack, it could be at any time. Another lap, and ... Aha, they're stopped at the wall!
It turns out to be a man and a boy, probably father and son. I actually have seen them before, but I haven't swum in the same lane before. I pass them at the wall and we set off again. Another length and the man is well behind, but the boy is right on my heels. He looks about nine or ten, and I don't really like the idea of being passed by him. I crank it up as I head back up the pool and, by the time I turn again, he's run out of puff. It feels a bit wrong to gloat at beating a nine year old, but I figure it won't be long before he's tearing past me and I don't see that reversal ever being overturned. (Father Time, I realised, doesn't look like an old man. He's a little cherub who's already old enough to master you at every one of your skills.)
A few more laps, and the man and boy leave too, and now I'm doing speed laps on my own. It's getting late now and I need to head off to start the day, but each time I put in a fast lap, it always feels like I've got just that little bit more.
Three more "last laps" and I'm finally done. As I pull myself out, I can feel both calves tighten. Evidently, the backstroke uses slightly different muscles. Off to the changeroom, and then a slow walk home, tired, but happy. At least my back will be good for rest of the day now. And I can do it all again tomorrow.
The Medium and Fast lanes have just one person each, both of them regulars. In the Medium lane is a man I see quite often. He'll spend at least an hour swimming or walking while his daughter trains with the swim squad. We've had a chat a few times, but we don't know each other's name yet. He usually swims freestyle with his head out of the water, and I've often wondered if he's training for open water swimming or if he just doesn't like wearing goggles. He's surprisingly fast given the added drag of swimming this way, but I'll be lapping him every four or five laps or so.
In the fast lane is another man I've swum with before, although we've only spoken once. He was quite a bit faster than me the last time we swam together, but he tends to sprint and then rest. He often has a full set of flippers and other learning aids, but today he doesn't seem to have any. I wait for a while to see if he's going to be sprinting, but he's just practicing his kicking on the wall. Since I'm going to be warming up anyway, I decide to take the Medium lane first.
The first man is at the other end of the pool at the time I enter the water. I start off with a slow lap and I meet up with him after two lengths. He's taking a breather and we say good morning. I'm off again. For my first spell, I'm going to concentrate on rhythm. This is one of the things I like about swimming. I start out slowly, concentrating on form over effort, and bit by bit start tuning up my stroke. Watch that crossover. Roll my body more. Breath out more before breathing on the right. Keep my head lower.
My mind is completely absorbed in a constant stream of small corrections, even as I can feel the power starting to click in from my muscles and the water start to rush past me. I'm like the engineer in a steam train, fiddling cerebally away with a dozen different controls, then gradually getting overwhelmed by all the raw, primal sensations - the noises and the vibrations - as the train starts to rocket.
I'm alone in the lane now. The first man has left to do some power walking. The man in the Fast lane has gone too, but there's someone else there now. I try to keep up with them when we set off for a lap around the same time, but they pull away. At the end of the lap, they've stopped for a rest and I keep going.
As I turn at each end, I can see other familiar faces. There's the lady in the Fast lane who's some sort of athlete. She's often here early in the morning, and she has a long and complicate routine of exercises. She's one of the few regulars left I can't either outpace or outdistance, but she's doing crunches on the side of the pool now. In the slow lane, there's another regular, an older lady who just laps up and down with a metronomic freestyle. She's not particularly fast, but she just keeps going and going and going. So far we haven't spoken yet because, well, she's always swimming...
I'm doing well with my rhythm now, but I can feel my form start to falter. Keep that head straight. Tighten those glutes. Watch that posture. Breath lower on the right.
I'm aware that I'm going slower and slower. Someone in the slow lane matches me for one entire length, and I kick a little harder. I can feel my legs start to tire, but I press on for a few more laps, until my form starts to fall away. When I finally stop, I find I've swum half an hour. I haven't counted, but I'd guess around fifteen hundred metres. A lady in the next lane strikes up a conversation when she sees me puffing, and I get my breath back, then do a few slow laps to get my form back again.
Next, it's five laps of backstroke, alternating with freestyle. This is hard work, plus my backstroke is pretty wonky, and I get fouled on the lane ropes a few times. I've been told to work on it for my back though, so I've just got to learn how to do it. I'm just glad there's no-one else in the lane while I'm zigzagging all other the place.
Back to freestyle, and suddenly there is someone else in the lane. I don't quite catch a glimpse of them, but they seem to be fast. Another lap and it turns out to be two people swimming together. I've been swimming for just over an hour now, and they both seem to be going quite fast. Never-the-less, I'm feeling good, so I decide to have a go at chasing them down.
Faster... Faster... Faster. Damn. Are they pulling away? Three laps pass and I've barely gained on them. I wonder if they're going to end up catching me instead. Still, if they're going to crack, it could be at any time. Another lap, and ... Aha, they're stopped at the wall!
It turns out to be a man and a boy, probably father and son. I actually have seen them before, but I haven't swum in the same lane before. I pass them at the wall and we set off again. Another length and the man is well behind, but the boy is right on my heels. He looks about nine or ten, and I don't really like the idea of being passed by him. I crank it up as I head back up the pool and, by the time I turn again, he's run out of puff. It feels a bit wrong to gloat at beating a nine year old, but I figure it won't be long before he's tearing past me and I don't see that reversal ever being overturned. (Father Time, I realised, doesn't look like an old man. He's a little cherub who's already old enough to master you at every one of your skills.)
A few more laps, and the man and boy leave too, and now I'm doing speed laps on my own. It's getting late now and I need to head off to start the day, but each time I put in a fast lap, it always feels like I've got just that little bit more.
Three more "last laps" and I'm finally done. As I pull myself out, I can feel both calves tighten. Evidently, the backstroke uses slightly different muscles. Off to the changeroom, and then a slow walk home, tired, but happy. At least my back will be good for rest of the day now. And I can do it all again tomorrow.
