Off the Deck

I’ve had suits on the brain lately, and today something Lady COMSA said triggered another weird suit memory from my AAU days: boys wearing girls suits.

Yes, you read that right.

I must have been 12 or 13, and I recall it was a scy summer dual meet held at the far end of our town park pool. It was the last event of the evening, a free relay. I wish I could remember clearly how it all came about, but I think not having enough girls in my age group for a relay, and having a coach who was big on “exhibition” swims for experience and training were the sparks.

Mix in the casual-fun atmosphere of the meet, and suddenly you have two older male teammates volunteering to swim. And, since it was the girls heat, they decided to really get into the spirit of things and borrow drag suits from some of the older girls. (Yes, they put them on over their own suits!)

My strongest memory? Watching them try to inch the straps over their shoulders. At the time it looked so odd, but now I think we’re all used to watching women and men struggling into full-body suits while in public thanks to the advent of technical suits.

Until next time,
Rebecca, swim evangelist

All the recent talk about what’s legal (or won’t be legal once FINA decides and makes an announcement in September) for racing attire has me ruminating on “technical” suits of the past.

During my AAU age-group years, the “Belgrade” was all the rage for girls. Remember them? They had two snaps on one shoulder and a long, skinny, laced-up panel on the back. I had two — solid black, and then one with a really pretty abstract pattern in black, white and turquoise. After spending the last two years inching on my full legnth Fastskin (compliments of the fabulous Ellie) for Nationals though, it’s funny now to recall how you always left your snaps undone until right before the blocks because your suit was “too tight” otherwise. Heck, we didn’t know “tight” then!

During my varsity years I recall wearing another wacky racing suit. Maybe Speedo or the Finals made them. It had a black lycra lining with a silver (I kid you not) exterior in some kind of (what was then) “new age” metalic-y material that did not give one bit. You felt like you were incased in plastic wrap. I can’t remember if water beaded off them (or was supposed to) or not; I just remember how unbreathable-hot they were.

While sitting through heats on the bleechers during Saturday of our recent State meet, Barkley brought up the Speedo “paper” suit. Besides being a super fast sprinter, Barkley knows how to have fun — she thought she might still have one from her college career so she promised to check at home that night. Not only did she find it, but Barkely wore it for one of her Sunday races. Now, I know what’s reallyimpressing all of you masters out there: that the infamously skimpy-cut suit still fits Barkley well, years after college.

As for now? I hope the fastskins remain legal because I really love mine. Not only do I appreciate the compression factor that aids recovery during multiple day meets, but I feel all shark-like with it on!

Until next time,
Rebecca, swim evangelist

I don’t usually go to SC Nationals in May, so every year after States, I like to do a self assessment. My review includes how well I swam both during the sc season and the meet, and whether or not I met the goals I set last fall. This process helps for stage II of the self assessment: brainstorming on goals and training plans for next sc season as well as indentifying what’s not working well now to change it STAT as we approach long course season.

Here we go:

Practice: I definitely struggled with this aspect over the past season — I was all over the map, searching for 90-minute blocks in decent pools. My number of quality training swims was way down as I constantly adjusted my schedule and training locals to meet change. And, somewhere along the way I became dishearted, which translated into showing up late, skipping warm down, doing half of big free sets backstroke, and other self-defeating behaviors. Tough to assign a grade here as part of the struggle was against external factors out of my control, but then again I made it worse by fighting against myself with internal issues. I’ll split the difference and go with a “C.”

Dryland training: Absolutely, I slacked off on weights. I just wasn’t motivated (see above). So, I confess that about 3+ months went by sans my usual 3xs a week routine. But, I did add a weekly Pilates class into the mix. I was very consistent with daily stretches. And, I started to turn the corner about 2 months ago when I realized (and sought out) a home-dumbbell routine because my main problem now is “tight schedule.” I think I’ll reward the tiny bit of motivation that’s coming back and bump myself up to a “C+”.

Health: This factor is hard to grade because sometimes no matter what you do, you still get sick. I had a relatively healthy season this year though — only one bad three-week plague-virus thing, and I was able to fight it off without going into a secondary infection (the typical outcome up until this year). Was it the extra sleep (no longer getting up at 4:15 a.m. to swim since practice was cut to an hour)? Did the allergy shots kick in? Did I do better job with nutrition? How about trying to reduce stress via meditation? I’ll probably never know which was the “winning” factor, but I do know that I put a lot of time, effort and money into improving my health and immune system this year. I think that’s “B+” material.

States: Yes, that “can’t breathe” 1650 threw me, and it took me the entire weekend to recover mentally (longer physically, due to asthma). However, I didn’t give up: I swam every race I signed up for, and this year’s slate was my largest ever (1650/500 free, 400/200 IM, 100 fly). Today, I’m valuing spirit over results with a “B-.”

Goals: I had the same goals this season as I do EVERY sc course season — improve my starts and turns; improve my breaststroke. Did I work on any of those three things over the past half year+? Did I even try to work on them? NO! Therefore, I deserve and get an “F.”

The big picture? I’m wrapping up short course season with a “C.” Disappointing, yes. But do you know what? Poor results always motivate me, probably more so than good results…

Until next time,
Rebecca, swim evangelist

I’ve noticed this before, but as with many trends, they tend to be more easily spotted at bigger meets like the recent States: swimmers leaving their caps on for the ENTIRE day.

I understand if you’re transitioning from the warm up pool to the blocks and stop along the way to chat, get a drink of water, stretch, whatever. After all, if you’ve spent all that time in the warm up pool fussing with your cap (and goggles) to get it just-so for racing, go ahead — leave it on. Heck, leave ‘em both on until your race is over.

But I’m talking about the people who leave it on in between their events, as they sit through 50+ heats in the stands. Seriously, doesn’t it give you a too-tight headache? Or make your head really hot?

Maybe it’s a save-the-hair thing. Perhaps swimmers are slathering on one of the new high-tech hair products that protect crowning glories from rough elements like sun, wind, salt and chlorine. Hey, maybe product+cap+heat is the lastest multi-tasking, do-it-yourself-spa-treatement trend: compete all day and give your hair a hot-oil treatment.

Or, perhaps it’s a nerves thing, i.e. someone feels that cap-wrangling is too risky to do per event, so once they get right, they don’t have to worry about it for the rest of the day. I guess it simply could be spacey-ness too: they can’t feel the cap for whatever reason so they forget about it until shower time.

Just wondering…

Until next time,
Rebecca, swim evangelist

The 30 minutes or so surrounding my heat of the 1650 this past weekend at States were probably the most bizarre I’ve experienced in 35+ years of competitive swimming.

At first, everything seemed normal; I felt fine. Way out in lane 10, I could only see the man next to me. We started out evenly paced. Then he did breaststroke off the 175 turn. Kind of odd, yes, but it didn’t throw me off.

The breathing trouble that kicked in at the 300 mark did throw me off. It felt much like an asthma attack sans an actual attack — I couldn’t inhale or exhale fully, it was getting worse per lap, and I was increasingly dizzy-spacey. Plus, I thought I had been paying attention to the numbers on my card, but suddenly I jumped from 11 to 43. Did I just totally blank out on a 500+?!? Meanwhile, the man in lane 9, returning to freestyle, zoomed by me. Crap.

Back again at lap 17 (my counter successfully overcame a momentary struggle with the counter) tunnel vision was setting in and narrowing. By the approach of the flip on 19, I knew I had to stop or I’d black out. And I figured stopping at the wall would be less embarrasing than being pulled out of the water…

I’d like to take a moment here to give a shout-out to Janice, my teammate and counter, who did a fantastic job of calming me down at the wall. I’ve never stopped in a race before, and I was FREAKING OUT. Seriously, if not for her calm demeanor and soothing words, I doubt I would have finished the race. THANK YOU again Janice!

While clinging to wall like a barnacle, my main thought was “Oh well. Now I’m going to be at least a 200 behind everyone.” So you can imagine my surprise when after finishing (21:08 or something, not too bad I guess considering the big delay) there were people still swimming. After all, lane 10 is bottom seed.

Turns out just about everyone was having trouble breathing, and many others stopped as well. While still kind of whoozy in the warm down pool, the surrealism continued when I learned that Jeff, the math savant, had been DQ’d. What the *&^%$#?!? The call? He had “altered his suit during a course of a race” when he stopped to have his counter unzip the back of his tech suit because he couldn’t breathe.

Ken, another teammate (and steamrolling his way back after rotar cuff tears), wanted to stop because he couldn’t breathe but he toughed it out. The fabulously fast Teri Jean (also a teammate) stopped twice, but leaky goggles ruled over breathing trouble for her. Then I became really confuded when I saw Lady Comsa talking on deck — wasn’t she in the heat after me? She got out after a 300 or so…

I’m not sure if it was a bad chemcial mix/release, bad air, or even Teri Jean’s “the barometric pressure must have dropped precisely during our heat” theory, but all I can think of is what a goofy looking heat we must have been! I hope there weren’t too many age-groupers watching — we were setting a terrible example!

Until next time,
Rebecca, swim evangelist

In an attempt to keep my thoughts organized and thus hopefully readable, yesterday I vented about fall out that occurs sans head coach. Today, we look at the state of administration…

1) Everyone makes admin-type mistakes. I had at least two typos in yesterday’s blog. But a steady stream of mistakes means either one of two things: you don’t know swimming or you just don’t care. Take this past weekend’s State Meet program. Swimmers were double entered in events. The event order was wrong. The scoring information, as well as the start times were wrong. Entry times were wrong (i.e. 1:19/200 free, or how about 14:35 for the 1650?). The most insulting part? The correct meet information had been posted on line for ages. And these examples are just a few concerning only the meet program.

2) The lack of communication, never great to begin with, is steadily declining. Seeding distance events in the program, then declaring positive check-in for the same events is mandatory, is bound to confuse some swimmers. And it did — many missed their distance heat by following the program, not the heat sheets posted on deck after the positive check-in deadline. Again, this is just one example from the State Meet, a time when the host facility and its home team should shine. Don’t even get me started on examples from day-to-day “team” management.

3) Coaching is supposed to be part of the masters program bargin at our facility. But wait — we haven’t had a head coach for 6+ months, and this year we also lost coaching on Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday mornings. Yes, a coached noon practice was added to the schedule, but come on now — can that many adults, most of whom have job, family and other demands, attend weekday noon practice regularly? Last Monday I was able to go to the noon practice, my first this entire quarter. I was looking forward to an extended coached-practice. Except that there wasn’t a coach available — the workout was written on the board. Oh, and it was the exact same workout we did two days prior on Saturday.

The really depressing aspect? It doesn’t have to be this way. Swimmers know swimming. And as masters, we are used to volunteering to make teams and meets work. What would it hurt to ask us for our input, to work with us? Just a few ideas off the top of my head that would go a long way to mend the current rift include:

–Why not ask a local, savvy swimmer to review the guide? It probably would take less than an hour to check it and submit corrections.

–Even better, why don’t we look into on-line meet entry? It would save everyone time, money and reduce errors.

–Yes, we understand that we aren’t the only ones who want regular practice time. But instead of applying black or white thinking (i.e. “There’s an age group meet. Cancel masters practice!) can’t we switch to grey and let “team” members come in on their own after the meet is over that day? This would be especially helpful when meets are scheduled right when many masters are trying to get those last few taper workouts in before leaving for Nationals.

Call me naive, but aren’t we paying members of the facility? Where’s the “customer service” in this case? Are all programs getting the shaft? Perhaps I am overly sensative and protective of swimming, but it seems like a waste and just plain crazy not to seek our input to resolve some of these issues. At the very least, a brainstorming session could produce a ton of ideas…

Until next time,
Rebecca, swim evangelist

More than a half year ago, it became apparent (rather than by official announcement) that our masters team would not be getting a replacement head coach.

At the time, I didn’t think that this concept would work, but I was still willing to at least try it out (i.e. not complain viciously right away).

Well, now that our State meet has concluded, I think it’s safe to say: we need a head coach.

To support my statement, I could (unfortunately) choose among a mutlitude of points. Instead, I will highlight a few, but key ones today:

1) Low entry number of swimmers: In between heats, just to amuse myself, I decided to see how many teammates I could think of off the top of my head that did not sign up this year for the State meet. I stopped after five minutes with a total of 30. It was too depressing to continue. Absolutely, as in years past, some swimmers were not available (i.e. “delivering first baby”) but most were simply “not motivated.”

2) Overall standing: Our team has won the State title several times. Sure, it’s been close a few years, but I think it’s still safe to say that we used to be the “powerhouse” team of the state. This year we finished third, separated from the fourth-place team by only a scant 25 points.

3) Lack of guidance and morale: A coach does many things. Not only do they show up on deck to lead a practice, but they motivate their members to strive for their personal best, to keep challenging themselves. They create seasonal training plans so their swimmers are conditioned and mentally prepared for meets. Coaches keep their members informed about such things as rule changes to prevent completely avoidable DQs over issues such as keeping your toes under the water during a back stroke start. They are on top things; they know swimming.

What happens when you don’t have a coach? Posting random previously written workouts does not cover your bases. People register under different teams despite training at our facility. Swimmers have to remind “management” that relays need to be formed, and even worse, scramble to submit after missing out on the first relay of the meet because they have not been entered. No one on deck is there to relate the big picture to the team: is it crucial that we win this relay? Who needs extra support this race to capture an individual high point award? Who is on the verge of setting a record?

I could go on, and I may another day soon, but for now I will close with this key point: Yes, we are adults. Thus, we are expected to ultimately manage ourselves: choose appropriate training, enter events, find motivation, learn the rules among many other examples. So today I finally ask “management:” don’t hold our team hostage anymore. We understand we may not be a priority for you, a big money-maker, or even an interest. But we’re still training and competing as adults because we love swimming. We know the sport inside and out. And you know what? We have some of the best adult swimmers in the world on our “team” — world record holders, All-Americans, National Champions and distinguished open water swimmers (multiple English Channel crossers for one!). Either work with us and earn the right to call us a “team” again or let us manage it.

Until next time,
Rebecca, swim evangelist