Competitive
swimming's not for the faint of heart
By
Maddie Wilson
November 8, 2007 | Butt cracks, hairy armpits and boys
prancing around in nothing but too-tight, barely-covering
Speedos. Most people would cover their eyes, turn red,
or even pass out if they caught just a glimpse of one
of these, let alone all three at once. But for me, it
is just a part of my everyday world, and has been for
nine years. It doesn't even faze me. And I'm not a weirdo;
there are many who share this world with me. It's the
world of competitive swimming.
"Stan, Stan, the butt crack man," my friend Natalie
and I chanted during our high school swim team practices.
Behind the back, of course, of this high-school senior
who preferred wearing a Speedo sized for a boy half
his age.
As I was sitting on the deck stretching out my legs
before practice, I remember glancing across the floor
and spotting a leg with thick, brown hair. Not disturbing
at all. Until I realized it belonged to my team captain
-- who was female. I'll never forget the frizziness.
You see, swimmers -- male and female -- go through a
period ranging from three to six months of no shaving
before their big meet of the season. It is supposed
to have mental as well as physical benefits when you
finally shave everything for the meet you have trained
for all season.
And it was exhilarating, diving into that pool for
the first time with smooth, hair-free legs. I felt like
a seal or a dolphin gliding through the water, not feeling
the hair flowing back and forth like barnacles attached
to my shins. It's not the most pleasant story. Only
certain kinds of people can swim. Those who are faint
of heart or self-conscious do not belong to this world.
If you are not able to bend over on a diving block,
knowing there are people standing behind you seeing
everything that the tight, wedgie-causing suit cannot
cover, this is not the sport for you.
If you don't mind an occasional jog outside like on
"Baywatch," except not necessarily on the beach; by
all means, go try out for a swim team. For me, jogging
in my swim suit took place on the lawn outside the pool,
with traffic whizzing by, honking every once in a while.
Before you join a team, though, you must be warned
about the time of the season when everybody gets the
same cold. The only really bad part about it is that
the pool becomes goober-infested. As soon as you start
hearing hacking, coughing, spitting noises resonating
throughout the lane lines, just beware as you are swimming.
If you get something in your mouth that feels like it
has a thicker consistency than the water, it's most
likely a goober. Just don't swallow it, and you'll be
fine.
Besides the occasional hairball, loss of eyebrows
and arm hair because of extreme exposure to chlorine,
and a green tint to the hair, I think I have warned
you about all the awkward and gross side-effects of
competitive swimming. Keep in mind; these will only
come if you are a hard-core swimmer, spending at least
four hours in the pool each day. Unfortunately -- and
all those swimmers out there will know what I'm talking
about -- in order to stand a chance in the swimming
world, you have to spend that time in the pool.
Sure, swimming is not for the faint of heart. It's
also not for the weak in body or mind. Because of the
dedication it requires, it becomes a part of life. It
can even be defining of one's identity.
My same friend Natalie, who I chanted about butt cracks
with, is a freshman on the University of Utah women's
swimming and diving team. On her blog, she keeps track
of the number of yards she has swum so far this season:
nedge.blogspot.com.
Since about Sept. 10, she has swum 293,400 yards. She
figured that is about 178 "swimmer miles" (a "swimmer
mile" has only 1,650 yards, while a real mile has 1,760).
In all, it's about 11,736 lengths in a 25-yard pool.
Whew! That's a long time staring at that black line
along the bottom of the pool.
The work and somewhat disgusting aspects of swimming
paid off, a least for me. The good rules over the bad
and gross. Even though I never made it to the Olympics,
swimming taught me important things I don't think I
could have learned anywhere else. Dedication is the
biggest lesson I learned. When I swam for the University
of Utah, I woke up at 5:05 every morning to be at the
pool by 5:30 to put the lane lines in for practice.
Swimming was like a part- time job. I spent at least
20 hours a week working out; even more when there was
a meet. And they were 20 hours of what sometimes felt
like sheer punishment.
But by the time mid-season came around, near Christmas
time, I felt like I could handle anything in the pool.
My lungs could go longer without oxygen. My arms and
legs developed a strong, hard endurance. After a practice,
my muscles ached with satisfaction; they got the strain
they longed for. I was healthy, in body and mind.
Swimming receives far less recognition than it deserves.
Swimmers work out just as hard, probably harder, than
any football or basketball player. And they get the
least reward for their efforts. You have to be one of
a kind to swim.
NW
MS |
