Immersion

International swimmers gathered in Rome last week for the Sette Colli (Seven Hills) meet. Several visited the Vatican, where Pope Leo spoke about sports as an avenue for spiritual growth. He specifically blessed swimming:

"Swimming is practiced while immersed in an element, water, which surrounds the person. This symbolically recalls an aspect that has shaped us from our mother's womb: to live means learning to move in harmony with others and with the environment around us." — Pope Leo

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Though I'm no longer a practicing Catholic, reading the Pope's blessing on my favorite pastime thrilled me—especially his correlation between sport and harmony with others and the environment. When I immerse myself in water, particularly during summer heat, I find peace. I hear only the slosh of water in my ears, watch clouds through nose bubbles on my back, wash away anxieties with each bilateral stroke. My joy in the sport renews itself with every lap.

Pope Leo also noted that sport promotes individual values: commitment, solidarity, honesty—the watch never lies. I witness my swimmers demonstrate these qualities on the deck, and appreciate them in myself, in the young people I coach, and in my own children. The Pope said it best: "the age of competition passes, but those values remain."

I saw those same values again last week, watching World Cup soccer fans fill stadiums across North America. Different countries, languages, colors, passions—all immersed in the same experience. Norwegian fans thundering their rows, Argentine supporters dancing in the stands, French crowds erupting together. The solidarity was palpable. Spectators chose which matches to watch based not just on the game itself but on the electricity of the crowd, the singing and emotion that filled the stands.

Both immersion in water and immersion in community seem to offer the same thing: harmony with others, commitment to something beyond ourselves, the feeling of being held by something larger. Maybe that's what we're starved for—these moments when individual joy becomes collective, when the watch stops mattering and only presence counts.

Where the Waters Meet

There's nothing like being buffeted by relentless winds, pummeled by swells, and dragged by invisible currents to momentarily liberate you from an existential crisis. As I cleaved through the briny water last Saturday, towing my fluorescent orange safety buoy behind me and praying that my trajectory led toward the finish line rather than the vast Atlantic, my mind detached from all political anxieties and emotional burdens. While not precisely tranquil, the exhilaration and physical ordeal honed my focus to a razor's edge, cultivating profound gratitude for life, vitality, and the privilege of sharing extraordinary experiences with kindred spirits.

Rob and I embarked for St. Kitts last Wednesday, with an interim stop in Miami. I was astonished to discover the island lay a further three hours' flight from Florida—I did not conduct thorough research after finalizing arrangements with SwimTrek to attempt the Nevis to St. Kitts ocean crossing and race. We descended onto the West Indies on an aircraft brimming with aspiring swimmers, mingling and conversing as we located the shuttle destined for our respective hotels. The atmosphere enveloped us in warmth, with tropical clouds suspended like cotton sculptures against bright blue skies, and palm fronds rustling rhythmically in the breeze (which would soon emerge as our formidable adversary).

That evening, we crossed the street to meet up with Colorado friends at the Marriott, where I unexpectedly collided with my closest friend from youth swimming (with two teammates we held the 200-yard free relay record for 13-14 year-olds in New England for nearly two decades). Shocked greetings, warm hugs and hurried introductions ensued—we hadn't encountered one another in over four years and had never been introduced to each other's husbands. What an amazing coincidence—gratitude to the universe!—she wasn't even aware of the swimming event but merely vacationing.

Our practice session the subsequent day proved illuminating, as SwimTrek guided us into the ocean where the Atlantic converges with the Caribbean Sea, acquainting us with the tumultuous waves and treacherous currents awaiting us during the 2.65-mile competition. The practice only offered 1.5 kilometers, yet as we navigated back into the placid waters of the bay, several participants decided to opt out of the next day's race. Apprehension intensified when event coordinators announced escalating winds forecast for race day and a potential alteration of the course toward a safer, coastline trajectory.

I silently prayed that we could complete the crossing—it was on my bucket list for nearly a decade to accomplish a channel crossing. The English Channel waters are too frigid, the Maui Roughwater swim appeared too remote and unforgivingly turbulent, so I settled on this challenge. Ha! The fates cackled in response.

The water radiated warmth and the sky was unblemished on race day. We rose at 5 a.m. to board transportation to the shoreline at St. Kitts, then ferry across to Nevis, the race's origin point. The bumpiness of our ferry ride amplified swimmer concerns about the swells, and our briefing regarding wind and current diverted my attention from seeking sea turtles to contemplating survival. I started the race alongside friends from Colorado but promptly lost visual contact as my safety buoy entangled in a rope in the bay, requiring de-tangling before I could proceed.

The water's salinity was so sharp I had to block the rear of my throat with my tongue to prevent inadvertent swallowing. As we emerged into the unprotected ocean, waves of two to three feet rocked us laterally, compelling me to breathe predominantly to my left to avoid waves in my face. Throughout the journey, I periodically switched to breaststroke to locate the prominent hill serving as my visual reference. I inadvertently collided with several clusters of swimmers, including one containing my friend Sue, but inevitably drifted away from them. The waves impeded our visibility of one another and obscured the finish line. A short rain storm pelted us with cool freshwater, but blew over in a hurry.

Four hundred and eighty-nine individuals registered, yet only 379 completed the course. Many withdrew prior to the start, given the intimidating conditions, and approximately 50 participants were extracted by support personnel, either at the swimmer's request or because they had swum so off-course that completion within the three-hour maximum became impossible.

Sue and I finished virtually simultaneously—she maintained a slight lead and paused for me, extending her hand to assist me as I staggered onto the beach so we could cross the finish line together. Unaccustomed to competitors waiting for me, I was overwhelmed with emotion (and exhaustion). We had both navigated remarkably efficient routes, covering 4.19 kilometers versus the absolute distance of 4.1 kilometers, which conserved our energy and minimized our distress. Some swimmers were displaced by the current and endured an additional kilometer or two (rendering their subsequent struggle against the current to finish truly heroic).

Rob supplied us with endless water as we rested, attempting to regain our mental faculties and hydration. Two of my companions placed in their age category (first and second in the 60-69 classification), an impressive achievement, while I secured fifth position in mine (50-59). This exceeded my expectations; I had intended to proceed at a more leisurely pace and appreciate the surroundings, but conditions rendered pausing impossible!

In summation—nothing quite compares to an adventure punctuated by acute moments of perceived mortality to reinvigorate one's zest for existence and temporarily banish life's mundane concerns.

Girls in Sports

 "Previous studies have found that 70% of children quit sports by age 13, and by age 14 girls quit at twice the rate of boys."

"Reasons participants gave for abandoning sports were coaching issues, poor body image comparison from social media and the competitive pressure of the sport."

Nemours Childrens Health

I started coaching for a USA Swimming affiliated year-round club team in September. I stepped back for two and a half months during girls' high school season, so I have really only coached club for three to four months. I enjoy the kids immensely, and I am so happy that some of my high school swimmers joined me with the club team to keep training through spring, summer and fall.

One big concern I have with youth sports is the number of young teens who quit sports by age 14 - particularly the girls. Participating in sports gave me confidence, a lifetime addiction to working out, a healthy overall lifestyle, and physical strength. Swimming did the same thing for my older son and daughter. My daughter and I still lift weights together (she lifts more!) and I love to see the number of women who are comfortable in the weight room. One young woman recently came up to Aden after bench press and whispered "you have great arms." Fabulous!

But why do so many girls leave? I have much more research to do, but the Nemours summary rings true. Common sense indicates that coaching has something to do with it, along with body image issues, development in puberty making girls uncomfortable in a changing body, and competitive pressure. As a coach, I try to ratchet down that pressure, focusing on technique, process, and each swimmer bettering themselves. A major emphasis for our group is having fun, trying to get to know each other (despite having heads underwater most of the time), and learning technique.

Striving for excellence as an individual can be separate from a focus on goal times and how well you do compared to others. Striving for excellence as a team can mean building community, teaching young people how to work through adversity and overcome obstacles, as well as swimming fast. In this crazy world, sports can prepare young people for the challenges of adulthood and provide them with a safe place to come when their school or social networks provoke angst.

I'm in the learning stages of supporting youth, especially young women, in staying with sport, and I can't wait to learn more and do it better.

Funny the Way It Is

 "Funny the way it is, not right or wrong. . ."

- Dave Matthews Band "Funny the Way It Is," Lyrics by Dave Matthews

After a 14-hour Saturday that encompassed my final race in US Masters Nationals, a plane flight from Orange County to Denver and a few hours of unpacking and cleaning, my husband looked at me with dismay when I showed him our tickets to Dave Matthews. But we rallied - we had good seats at a venue only ten minutes from our house - and though we were the stereotypical older people that had to sit during a slow song, we let the fabulous music carry us into some dancing by the end.

Though the set list only included one song from my favorite album (Big Whiskey and the GrooGrux King, 2009), I rediscovered the band through the soaring trumpet, saxophone and keyboard medleys, as well as the surprisingly elegant vocals of the lead singer. After sleeping for ten hours, I went through my playlists and unearthed treasures of memory - the favorite melodies I played on repeat when Daniel was little and struggling, and workouts with music my only therapy.

"Funny the Way It Is" hits my reflex reaction hardest, bringing back visceral memories of a cold morning in the mountains near Glenwood Springs, prepping for a spring triathlon while my husband and children slept. I must have played it twenty times as I psyched myself up for the effort, shivering and trying to keep down instant oatmeal. What a gift to find the song again.

Funny also to compete at age 53, still striving for competitive times in a long course (50 meter) pool after 16 years away. I trained hard this summer, mainly with William and Aden, incorporating weights, resistance training in the water, and lots of sprints, but that long course pool is looooong, and by the third day I had trouble reaching the wall. My times are slower than they were 16 years ago, but I had some wins and I learned a few things that will help my swimmers when I start coaching next week. 

Aden swam well, youngster that she is, despite having Covid the week before and being out of the water for most of the previous ten days. That's not a usual method of resting for a big meet, but she made it work, and made me think I actually needed to rest a little more. My watch was yelling at me for "changing my workout schedule" and not hitting my move goal, which didn't help my already-paranoid mind, a mind that functions better when the body moves frequently. Resting is harder than training.

The more things change, the more they remain the same. Now I need revenge (on myself) for that botched final race but have an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the grand build of the weekend and family to share it with.

Stop "Should-ing" All Over Yourself

Having grown up in the Catholic church as an oldest child and a girl in the 1970's when Title 9 was fledgling and the 80's anthem "You can do whatever you want" not yet unfurled, my internal dialogue was often dominated by "shoulds." My wonderful parents did not contribute significantly to this - American, church, and grade school society overflowed with the sentiment. A young girl always had something she "should" be doing.

Many decades along, having purged most of my Catholic guilt and many general "shoulds" from my emotional vocabulary, I was surprised and delighted to hear the phrase "Stop 'should-ing' all over yourself" from Katie Hoff on the Unfiltered Waters podcast. Upon first hearing it sounded like a much different and dirtier statement, which compounded my delight.

The angle of the "Unfiltered" podcast (created by former Olympic swimmers and World Record-holders Katie Hoff and Missy Franklin Johnson) is the "real" person behind the athlete, the true and difficult emotions that come with competing, winning and losing at the highest levels of sport. Our culture seems to be working toward this greater awareness of the human toll taken by an overdrive to excellence, media focus and the demands of USA fans. Simone Biles, Michael Phelps, Caeleb Dressel and others have been heroically transparent in the difficulties behind their star-studded careers and raised awareness across the board, but the work has just started.

Hoff and Franklin Johnson explain the work they've done in their own lives to acknowledge feelings without judging them, erasing the "Shoulds" and simply dealing with "what is." The reminder works for those of us who are not heroic athletes, but just generally flawed human beings. I can't wait to use that phrase again ;-).

Indy for Olympic Trials

The stadium lights went dark except for the red, white and blue spotlights on swivels and the overhead beams that laid a Escher pattern of the Xfiniti logo on the massive 50-meter pool. The bass of the hype music thundered through 20,000 audience members who leapt to their feet as the swimmers in the first final of the USA Swimming Olympic trails passed, one-by-one, under the 50-foot video screen of their images in competitive, focused stances.

The announcer's voice swelled as he intoned their credentials, "USA Tokyo Olympian, US American record holder, USA Tokyo Olympian..." and the crescendo of applause took on greater ferocity with each name. Up in the third tier, surrounded by families of swimmers who had also purchased multi-day tickets, we perched on the edge of our stadium seats, glancing between the pool far below and the 35,000 pound scoreboard that showed intimate, close up views of the athletes and their performances.

At the 50 meter mark. of the 100 fly, the leading swimmer, Gretchen Walsh, charged out to amazing first-half speed under world-record-pace. Even before the announcer mentioned this fact the swimming-savvy crowd had leapt to their feet, screaming for the swimmers to hold speed to the end, to get home. When Walsh touched, breaking an 8-year-old world record by a massive amount of three-tenths of a second, a massive wave of noise emanated from the stands. Non-swimmers in the crowd jumped to their feet along with the rest of us, high-fiving and howling for an amazing athletic accomplishment.

No world record has been set at US Olympic trials in swimming since 2008. The meet is a pressure cooker and only about 30% of qualifiers improve on their seed time. The goal is to make the top two in each event, though at this stage only the winner is guaranteed a spot on the Paris Olympic team. Those athletes who thrive in such settings are few and far between -- and they are incredible.  We got to see many such swimmers, including Regan Smith (who set a world record of her own the day after we left), Katie Ledecky, Katie Grimes (whose family sat next to us in the stands), Caeleb Dressel, Ryan Murphy, Lily King, and others.

As a lifelong swimmer I was moved to tears by the recognition of our sport in Indianapolis. The city raised banners on every street near Lucas Oil Stadium, drew swimming lane lines on the nearest big intersection and in the airport, and hosted concerts and festival-style markets near the venue. The first night set a world record for the number of people at a swim meet and succeeding nights have even raised that threshold. 

We saw 46-year-old Olympian from 2000 and 2004 swim to lifetime bests in her two events, and a 14-year-old make the final of the 400 IM. My family purchased souvenirs and explored the football stadium, waited in long lines for the escalator to take us up to our seats, and marveled that our sport generated this recognition. Aden and I caught up with swimmer friends of past and present, and trained one morning outdoors with the Indy Masters team.

A unique family vacation, an amazing chance to indulge my passions, a wonderful opportunity to cheer athletes on at the fastest Olympic Trials meet in history....all lead me to ask, when can I buy my tickets for 2028?

Writing Poetry While Covid Positive

 My third official bout with Covid started yesterday with another positive test that looked like a pregnancy. (At my age the positive for a pregnancy would transmit greater shock and connote a much bigger problem). In between trying to focus on work from home and hopefully going to the drug store to pick up my Paxlovid, I am running down a few old poems that need revamping. Here's one-

Swimming Outdoors in Midwinter

Air bites exposed skin but the

Sun’s rays at altitude are aphrodisiac.

Light hits tinted goggles while frosted bubbles 

Drift by defiant purple toes.

Canadian geese and airplanes fly 
Between jet-trail corridors overhead,
Black webbed feet in ragged V's as
Spurts of snowflakes feather down.

 

It Never Rains but it Pours

It's almost the solstice and Coloradans have barely seen the sun, though in an age of permanent drought and climate change, we try hard not to complain about six weeks of rain. Despite our gratitude at full reservoirs, reduced watering costs, and the lack of forest fires, it's getting a bit tedious to find mushrooms supplanting the xeriscaping, weeds growing as high as my thigh, and open water swimming cold enough to purple my fingers.

At the gravel pond this morning, where I swim with the Colorado Wild Women triathletes, the water was 12 feet higher than normal and a chilly 63 degrees. With an air temperature of 49, we were reluctant to enter the murky waters, and after 48 minutes of swimming in a sleeveless wetsuit my whole body was shaking. Summer swim teams register similar shock in umbrella-festooned social media posts.

I blame the recent shocking humidity for residual smells around the house. Rex's pee-corner has been attacked multiple times now with the heroic carpet cleaner, and we can almost sense (smell) victory. Rob and I enjoy the new device so much that we embarked on a program of cleaning Aden's room and the upstairs hallway, too. Daniel strangely declined our services from his bed, when we woke him up at 11 am. 

In other news, I purchased Olympic Trials tickets for swimming. Watch out, Indianapolis, I will descend upon you for three days of super swim fandom (a year from now - which should serve as enough warning). My family kindly agreed to accompany me when I offered to buy the tickets and pay for the hotel, so I have backup support. Fortunately for the swimmers, the events will be held indoors and the water temperature will be an appropriate 78 - 80 degrees. Barring another pandemic, we'll be ready to roll.

It's possible that my next entry will register sunny activities such as biking or sunbathing, mowing the mile-high lawn or not-watering the flowers. Stay tuned!

 

State Championship Finals

 The Colorado 5A (largest schools) State Championship finals are set for this evening and the entire swim season ends with three hours of racing on a Friday night. The wonderful JV squad that I coached swam their final races last weekend at a successful league championship meet, so I wouldn't say that the success of their season - or my season - rests on tonight's results, but our team record and our team banner waits anxiously for record-setting swims starting at 5pm today.

Swimming is a ridiculous tough sport; athletes follow the black line on the bottom of the pool for hours a day, minds busy either focusing on what they're doing (the hope) or spinning wildly through their their to-do list, and their recent social interactions (top of mind for HS swimmers). We swim until our arms are too tired to lift the fork at dinner, until our skin bleaches and peels, until exhaustion becomes familiar.

Coaches write their best, most focused workouts each day, including strength and resistance training, stretching, sprinting, distance, stroke and drill work. We preach technique until we're blue in the face, only to be interrupted by young faces arguing over the playlist emanating from our phones. SZA, Disney, Taylor, etc. seem far more important than the correct catch and pull of the stroke - at least until these final championship weekend when the fast tech suits come on and young faces transformed by nerves.

On deck we agonize over taper, or "resting" workouts, planning the descent in yards for weeks, urging kids to eat enough, sleep enough to rebuild muscle tissue and throw off the overwhelm so typical in high school. For some swimmers (usually upperclasswomen) the taper hits perfectly and time drops away as a result, leading to joyful celebrations by coaches and shocked delight on the face of the swimmer.

For other swimmers, the taper doesn't work or their nerves take over. Arms and shoulders tight with nerves can't move as quickly, and the swim doesn't look fluid or strong but frenetic. Coaches agonize over those swims, wondering if the athlete needed a few more days of rest, a day off, another pep talk. On a weekend when we had 29 best times and multiple drops of many seconds, all I could think about was the one swimmer who had a rough meet. "What could I have done differently?" was a refrain for days after that.

So the season ends tonight and we will have tears of joy, tears of sorrow, looks of delight and looks of disappointment. For all of the varsity athletes, practice will resume again on Monday for their club teams but for the coaches, a well-deserved 8-month break will begin, and we will ruminate repeatedly on what worked, who swam well and how to help those who didn't.

Adventures in Indianapolis

I just returned from a jaunt to Indianapolis, a pleasant city which I'd never before visited. We stayed at one of may high-rise hotels in the compact downtown and walked each day down a pleasant tree-lined path, crossing canals and dodging runners, to get to the famed IUPUI Natatorium. FINA, the international body that governs swimming, held a fall series of World Cup swim meets where top swimmers from all over the world competed for cash prizes, and Indy was the last stop. As swim-fans and sport-nerds, a friend and I grabbed the chance to buy cheap plane tickets and watch some of the best and most beautiful swimmers in the world compete.

We went early each day to grab the best seats (like Southwest, swim meets almost always have open seating) and watch warm ups. Swimmers glided up and down the clear 25M pool like airplanes, seemingly unaffected by the heaviness of water and the resistance of friction. With beautiful technique they flew up and down the lanes, stopping to jump out of the pool and stroll along the pool deck like Greek gods and goddesses, solid and strong but spare, without an ounce of extra flotation on them. On the second day of the meet we witnessed three new World Junior Records with an excited crowd. One young athlete broke two (in two different races) within a span of 13 minutes. Katie Ledecky set a new World Record while we were on the plane home, breaking yet another standard in the 800 M free.

My companion, the head coach of our high school girls' team, knows many coaches, assistants and athletes from her years in the sport and generously introduced me to the head of USA Swimming, gold-medal winner Cullen Jones, national team member Gabi Albiero, and others. I felt not in awe but greatly appreciative, noticing how many years of hard work and dedication sculpted the broad shoulders and narrow hips of both men and women, how swimming fame isn't widespread or invasive enough to build big egos but instead makes our athletes open to meeting fans, to signing kickboards of the young children who lined up in the hallway outside the pool deck.

Adventures can fuel the soul and a change of scenery opens up new possibilities. Coach and I worked for hours each day on plans for the upcoming girls' season and plowed through to-do lists like nothing could stand in our way. The opportunity to shake off routine and pursue passions doesn't come along too frequently in these days of pandemic, and I am grateful for the trip and freedom to take it. Next stop, Olympic Trials 2024 at Indiapolis' Lucas Oil Stadium? We just may have to go back.

Annual Wave of Work

 Apologies to families and friends who look for semi-regular blog posts at this address: I've been drowning in the second annual "wave of work." The wave occurred last year at this time, magically drowning my sorrows at dropping William off for his freshman year at college. Again this year, I was swamped in new writing and swim curriculum work in the days after we moved William (with Aden's help) into his new apartment. The universe is looking out for me and trying to distract me from the "Find My" app on my phone.

The long weekend provided a respite of sorts, despite having to fit a few hours of work in each day. Rob and I hiked with the kids on Saturday and took them out to lunch, enjoying tales of new classes and jobs, catching up on drama from swim team and clubs. On Sunday I attended a Lead Sports conference centered on swimming. Watching Olympians swim (right in front of me!) to demonstrate drills and help young ladies with their stroke technique was a unique and fruitful opportunity. Many of our high school swimmers were there and their smiles and wild waving from the pool deck made my day.

Well, it made my day until the late afternoon sessions, when we got to hear Olympic medalists and training partners Lilly King and Annie Lazor speak to a small group of parents and coaches. They each spoke of their training journey and college recruitment process, diving into family support, odyssey through multiple coaches and training groups. Both women are unapologetically strong and fierce, tempered by maturity (now that they're in their mid-20s) and eager to help young female swimmers.

Their talk went over by a few minutes and afterward I walked swiftly to the front to wait in line for a brief chat and photo. I told them both that their friendship and mutual support at the Tokyo Games was my favorite part of the last Olympics, and how much I appreciated seeing that play out. Then I told Lilly that she had "wished" me a happy birthday when I turned 50, via a paid cameo video that Rob purchased, and Lilly high-fived me (possibly for being the oldest person in the room but hopefully because I loved her video).

When all is said and done, being productive and trying new things, while tiring, feels rewarding, good and solid. I'm grateful for work, work friends, and teammates, who tide me over between the golden moments when my family can all be together. I hope your fall is off to a good start, and that relationships bless and carry you through the challenging spaces in life.

Simone Manuel Defeats OTS

Simone Manuel was the face of U.S. women's swimming at the Rio Olympics. A gold-medal winner in the 100 meter freestyle and a silver-medal winner in the 50 meter freestyle, she added on another gold and silver in the 400m relays. In late March of 2021 she fell ill while training for a big meet in Texas, a lead-up to the Olympic Trials. After that meet she went to stay with her family for the first time in over a year, and a doctor diagnosed her medical issues as overtraining syndrome (OTS).

In an emotional press conference that Manuel gave after she failed to make the finals of the 100 free at the 2021 Olympic Trials, the standout swimmer graciously sat and answered numerous questions, some of a personal nature, about her symptoms and the stress she carried as a black athlete during the racial reckoning of 2020. The list she provided of her body's warning signals: high heartbeat, extreme fatigue, inability to resume her normal schedule after weeks of modified activity, anxiety, depression and insomnia, are all familiar to me. I had the same issues in 2011 and 2012 when I over trained for a marathon / triathlon combo. William, too, shared many of those symptoms in 2017 after his freshman swim season.

A reporter asked Manuel if she thought that overtraining syndrome was common with swimmers. She said she could not answer that, having just heard this diagnosis for the first time, but that she supposed it was quite common. Swimmers work so hard, for so long, trying to turn their bodies into hydrodynamic machines, that we often hear of injuries, burnout, depression, anxiety, stomach and sleep issues. But these symptoms are not often treated as credible. Without understanding, without the official diagnosis, swimmers have trouble finding solutions from doctors, parents, coaches. The diagnosis came at a terrible time for Manuel, but the understanding of doctors and coaches who allowed her to rest - that was fortunate.

By offering her story and being so vulnerable with a nation full of swimmers wondering "why?" Simone Manuel shone a light on a patchwork of problems in our sport. Too much difficult training can ruin an athlete - even a world class athlete. But this story has a happy ending. At the urging of her doctors and her coach, Manuel rested for three weeks in April, a thing absolutely unheard of just a month before Trials. Though she missed the final of the 100 free last week, she persevered through prelims and semifinals in the 50 meter free, and last night she won, landing on a second Olympic team. America's sprint queen is headed for Tokyo, and a more worthy winner I cannot imagine.

Unapologetic Aqua Fangirl

"I know what you're watching!"

My sister's text arrived as Lilly King smashed her way to a fabulous time at the United States Olympic Trials. Arguably the best meet in swimming - even, potentially, more tense and exciting than the Olympic Games - the U.S. Trials offer the best possible TV to a swimming geek like myself.  I gasp and cheer like an unapologetic fan-girl next to my long-suffering kids and husband, who won't see the remote control for the next week.

Though I don't know the athletes personally, SwimLabs has hosted many of them (they film video for our Champions' Library - they don't take lessons!) and one of my Masters swimmers is a stroke-and-turn judge. A handful of swimmers grew up competing in Colorado and are familiar names to my kids, especially William who has competed against some of them in state. We search for familiar names and faces like our backyard chickadees hunting for sunflower seeds.

William alternately watches the races and plays games or snapchats on his phone. He's trying to manage personal dreams of records and victories as his high school squad prepares for league and state championships, delayed until late June because of pandemic scheduling. His 200 medley relay wants the state record (only .13 faster than their current time) and could take aim at the national high school record. Meanwhile, his legs still hurt from training and he worries about starts and turns, so the Trials  offers both distraction and a chance to get nervous all over again.

I'm fully aware that swimming is not life-or-death, and that my children's swim times have no bearing on their future livelihood. In fact, it's the non-fatal attraction of sport that keeps me zoned in, the pleasant emotional upheaval of wins or losses instead of the existential crises of global warming and COVID. 

We were supposed to be at these Trials - would have been at them if the pandemic hadn't moved events back a year - but the refund we received for our tickets helped to pay for a trip to Greensboro, North Carolina in July. Aden and I are going to compete in a Masters National event there, a meet that will be much slower than Trials but equally exciting for its participants. My friend from our record-setting 200 free relay (13-14 girls in New England) will be there, too, and I'm excited both for our reunion and the fact that she is in a younger age group than I am!

The sport of swimming consistently offers me a mental health break, a physical outlet, and an amazing community. When Aden and William are both at CU and I am bereft of their high school swim activities, I hope to join the coaching staff of a girls' high school team in this area. I love helping athletes grow in their love and knowledge of the sport and I love being a cheerleader on the sidelines. Being in person trumps standing and shouting at the TV, though at the moment, I am glad to have both.

 

Spectating in the Time of Coronavirus

We eyed the ladder set up outside the chain-link fence, wondering whose it was and if it would hold our combined weight. The announcer's voice called the event before William's and we stood on tiptoe, holding the fence just below its menacing barbed wire, scanning the area for our son. Other parents stood at safe distances along the fence, perched on chairs in the back of their trucks or climbing trees, like Daniel, to get a glimpse of their son or daughter preparing to dive into the pool.

While my heart hummed with gratitude just to hear the sounds of a meet - the starter's beep, the cheers of the swimmers, the splash of water at the start - it was difficult to be so close and yet so far. The shallow old 50-meter pool is located on the grounds of a repurposed military base surrounded by dry scrub and dust. At 6:30 pm it was 98 degrees in the shade. Sweat dripped down my legs as I contemplated vaulting over the barbed wire.

But I digress - the point of mentioning the flat, scrubby surrounds was that the pool builders had to construct a four-foot high concrete wall around the pool to keep out trash, leaves, animals, and various other invaders. So we were distanced from the racing by the concrete wall, a wide grassy open space where the swimmers sat in their own deck chairs, and our fence nemesis. In my thirty-six years of swimming I have never seen anything like parents climbing a ladder and holding on between the spikes in barbed wire to watch their kid swim a 50 free. (We never climbed the fence as its popularity shut us out of timely use).

Despite the incongruous location and the heat, the young people swam amazing times. They seized the rare opportunity to compete with other high-caliber swimmers, put on their speed suits and kicked it into gear. We saw two swimmers make Olympic Trials qualifying times, a rare and exciting feat. (When I say "we saw" I mean that we heard it happen in real time). William swam six best times over the course of two days and enjoyed hanging out with his team and with guys from other teams that he only sees at competitions. We recorded the sounds of his walking out to the music as the top heat  in the 100 fly, and watched the ten seconds of swimming that we could see from our vantage point.

Swim coaches and staff were amazingly organized and they followed every social distancing rule and requirement - health and temperature checks in the morning, different times for teams to enter and warm up, separate places for swimmers to sit socially distanced on the grass, and masks on deck for all coaches and officials. I'm so proud of our sport, our athletes, coaches and parents. There hasn't been a single instance of a swimmer testing positive for COVID through swimming in our state. My fingers are crossed that the kids can keep practicing even as the weather turns colder and outdoor pools are taken off the table. We parents will watch through windows, fences and live stream if our kids just get a chance to train and compete.