"If Your Child Is A Competitive Swimmer, Get In The Pool"

If you're a parent of a swimmer, you spend many hours at the pool.

We sit up in the stands with our Tim Horton's, staring at our phones or working on laptops. We occasionally look up and think, "Why aren't they going faster?" or "I could do that." It is easy underestimate how much work is being done in the pool.

I have always enjoyed swimming. I grew up in Los Angeles where backyard pools abound, but my family lived in an apartment that had no pool. My parents found a great alternative.

There was a members only pool club named Bainbridge, in our local area and my parents, along with some relatives and my parents friends, joined the club. It was a great place to hang out with everyone every summer.

However, when we joined, I was around the age of seven, and I did not know how to swim. When my mom learned they had free swim lessons, she quickly signed up. My younger cousin was enrolled in the same class.

The class taught us the basics of swimming. We learned how to put our face in the water and how to turn your head to breathe. We learned the basic freestyle stroke and how to kick. For two weeks we practiced in the shallow end of the pool.

Then day arrived when we needed to swim in the deep end. I still vividly remember gripping the edge of the pool tightly, scared to death of deep blue abyss beneath me. It seemed impossible to be able to swim across to the other side over all of that water. The lifeguard blew her whistle and then pried our tiny little fingers off of the edge. We were terrified as we swam to the other side, convinced we would soon be on the bottom of a watery grave.

We were elated when we touched the wall on the other side. "We made it! That wasn't so bad!"

From that point on we were like the fish in the sea. We were in the pool as much as possible, swimming back and forth, diving to the bottom, and diving off the diving board. Endless hours were spent playing in the water.

As I grew up, I always loved the pool. While I never swam with a swim club or with my high school, I still loved to swim as much as possible.

When I had a child three decades later, I made sure she also had swim lessons. I not only wanted her to be safe, but I wanted her to enjoy the pool as much as I always had. After one lesson, she was swimming so proficiently that she removed her "floaties" and never wore them again. They had only been used once. It was a harbinger of things to come, but we will talk about that another day.

A few years later my daughter had a brief health scare. When we inquired about a sport we could safely put her in, the doctors recommended swimming. It is great for cardio and fitness. We signed her up right away and after a try-out, she was accepted into the local swim club.

When my daughter was in her second season of competitive swimming, she asked to swim some laps over the holidays. Her swim club had a two-week holiday break and my child wanted to make sure she worked on her stroke. (We will also talk about how addictive swimming is in another post.)

As a supportive parent, I agreed to drive my child and another swimmer to the pool. Since it was a Saturday morning, I decided I would swim a few laps as well. Why not? I love to swim.

The pool only had a few swimmers so there would be plenty of room. I paid for the lanes and the girls went to their locker room and I went to mine.

After changing, I passed by the full length mirror that is in the locker room and stopped in my tracks. The belly was larger much than I remembered. I added, "Get a box of Just for Men" to my task list. I let out a heavy sigh wondering where the years have gone, and then I headed for the pool.

Our local pool is a fantastic facility. One of the features is that they can reconfigure the pool as needed. It can have two 25 meter pools, plus a dive tank, or it can have a 50 meter pool with a dive tank, or it can have a 25 meter pool, and a 50 meter pool. As I wondered out on deck, I thought, "Awesome, the deep end is set up for 50 meters. I'll swim a bunch of laps like my daughter does."

I sucked in my gut as best as I could, and then tried to sneak past the cute lifeguards before they saw me, to the bulkhead that separated the two pools. I dropped my towel at the end of the first lane.

We didn't have an extra pair of goggles that would fit me at home, but that was fine. I always used to swim without goggles. I didn't have any fins or paddles or any of the equipment my daughter uses, but we didn't need any of that fancy stuff when we swim at Bainbridge. I just needed a body of water and my awesome skills.

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed my daughter and her friend going through their activation routine. Activation is the essential warm-up process swimmers use to prepare their bodies before they swim. They usually spend 10-15 minutes warming up and stretching their muscles.

Oh yeah, I should probably do that.

One or two minutes of swinging my arms around and kicking my legs around should be good, right? I'm a good swimmer and I'm not going to be swimming as much as they are.

I dove in and immediately thought, "It's so cold!"

The ideal pool temperature for swim meets is between 78°F to 82°F (25.5°C to 28°C). The pool was not at that temperature that day. It was closer to 22°F. Ok, maybe it was closer to 72°F but it felt like ice when I first dove in.

"That's fine. Just keep swimming and you'll warm up." I said to myself.

And yes, I did have a nice layer of blubber to keep me warm. You're very observant. You can kindly shut up now.

I lowered my head and relished the sensation of slicing through the water, just as I did in my teenage years. The muscle memory kicked in and I maintained a smooth freestyle stroke while vigorously kicking my legs. As the water washed over me, I began to engage in some mental math calculations while completing that first lap.

My daughter said she would often swim about 1500 meters at her practice. 1500 divided by 50 was 30 laps. Pffft. I can do 30 laps. It may take me a little longer, but I can do it. I have the strength, I have the stamina, I have the determination.

With so many calculations swilling in my head, it seemed as if I had been swimming for ten to fifteen minutes. Without googles on, couldn't see to the other side. I decided to lift my head to get a gauge as to where I was was since I must be getting close to the other end by now.

I was only 10 meters away from where I started.

WHAT? What the heck is going on here? Is there a current in this pool pushing me backwards? Did I enter a time warp? I'm not even halfway!

The doubt started to creep in my head as I continued to kick furiously. Am I really this bad at swimming now? Am I really this out of shape? Am I really getting...old?

After what seemed like another ten minutes, I picked my head up again.

*HALF WAY? You've got to be KIDDING me! *

Panic started to set in. I was already getting winded. My legs were starting to get tired.

There is absolutely no way I was going to stop. My dumb pride was not going to allow it. Hell would need to be as cold as the pool before I would get out 3/4 of the way of one lap while my daughter is over in the other tank swimming 30 laps. And there are cute lifeguards watching!

I slowed my pace and tried to glide a little more between strokes. I slowed my kicking down to conserve energy. I had to make it to the other end. I had to endure even though my lungs were now on fire. I had to fight through the pain in my arms and legs.

Finally, my hand touched the wall.

"Oh thank you baby Jesus. I know you were walking on the water and dragging me behind you." I don't know if you would call that a prayer, but it was the first time I had called out to a higher entity in the past few decades.

No fancy flip turns for this old fool. I was staying on that wall until my heart rate went back down under 150.

I held the edge tightly, just as I had done when I was a kid, but this time was different. I didn't want to have a heart attack and slip into the deep blue abyss beneath me. I panted, desperately trying to catch my breath. I clung to that wall for a good fifteen minutes, trying to mentally and emotionally prepare myself for the return lap.

Refusing to accept defeat, I pushed off as hard as I could, swimming off in the other direction.

I only swam a total of three laps that day. 150 meters. I was so exhausted I had to sit in the locker room for a good twenty minutes before I had the energy to shower and change.

It was a humbling experience. Driving home, I asked the girls about their practice. They didn't keep track of their meters, but they did swim for a full hour. I know it far surpassed my measly 150 meters.

I now have all the respect in the world for swimmers, regardless of age or ability. I've watched Para swimmers swim farther and faster than I could that day. I'm in awe when my daughter says she swam 3,000 or even 5,000 meters in one practice. Watching Katie Ladecky swim a 1500 meter race in 15:36.53 is mind blowing.

If you are the parent of a swimmer, do yourself a favor and get into the pool. It's easy to be judgmental of your child when you're sitting up in the stands with a cup of Tim Horton's in your hand, it is a lot harder when you are white knuckling the edge of a pool, trying to fill your lungs with as much air as possible, dreading that second lap.