Last Sunday morning as my bare feet slapped across the scorching pavement between the ladies’ locker room and the edge of the community pool, I spotted just one empty lane. I moved toward it quickly, claiming it as mine, then slid into the chilly water, shivered in anticipation, and dunked my head. The moment I rose I wiped the water from my face, strapped on my goggles, and took off toward the deep end -– to be swamped within seconds by the swim-capped middle-aged women on either side of me as they splashed past in unison.
Their wake left me floundering in a choppy sea, and by the end of lap one I had small craft warnings going off in my brain. Seizing any excuse for a break, I slogged back to the shallows and grabbed my water bottle, then watched in dread as my neighbors, clearly friends who had decided to work out together, executed time trials in tandem, arms and legs cutting through the water with perfect precision, churning up the water around them.
Drink over, I spent the next several minutes flailing between them, my velocity in the storm-tossed water approaching that of a half-squashed beetle. Meanwhile, the ladies pushed out lap after lap of Butterfly. If you’re not familiar with this awkward stroke, let me give you a little history: Despite what the link above claims, it was actually invented in the sixteenth century as a form of torture, and is now employed by swimming snobs and fully appreciated only by those who have mastered it. (For the record, the latter also applies to complex guitar solos and making pastry from scratch.)
The situation deteriorated around the eighth lap, when I helped myself to a flimsy kickboard for a few rounds. How is it possible to grab a sturdy, self-respecting kickboard actually capable of keeping my front half afloat any day except the very one when my ego -– and my ability to keep from asphyxiating on chlorine and water -– are most on the line? Even without the continuous shower from the ladies in the next lanes, the kicking would not have lasted long. At least with freestyle and breaststroke, I could spend most of my time with my head in the water, hiding my shame.
Around the fourteenth lap I began to take on water, and soon had a puddle the size of a baby pool sloshing inside my goggles. My arms, which have no respect for authority, began to tire despite my threats, and when I had thrashed once more to the deep end of the lane I clung to the wall and turned to decipher the clock on the side of the pool house through the foggy lenses. I nearly cheered. Three minutes to go.
Which is when the Wonder Twins decided they’d had enough of swimming and headed for the locker room. Now, if only I’d gotten everything else in line — the goggles, the kickboard, my arms — I would have had a very nice 180 seconds of swimming ahead of me.
I never did get the butterfly… it is an evil stroke. I think my 7-year old pulls it off better than me.
Your post is timely. Next week my youngest starts pre-K and I have vowed to put my butt in the pool after drop off. If it makes you feel any better, I also resort to a kickboard when tired (and I’m going to need them as I make this attempt at getting in shape).
Phelps would be very proud of your efforts. Go you! By the way, I haven’t swum laps in a pool since I was about 12. I admire you.
You lasted a lot longer than I would have! I love the pool. Swimming for exercise? Not so much. Give me a raft and a good book and I’m a happy camper. I may muster the strength for a few somersaults and swims underwater, and I enjoy a game of Marco Polo. But laps? I’ll leave those to you. 🙂
Have a great holiday weekend!
…fully appreciated only by those who have mastered it.
Not true! I’m a total doof on butterfly, but love watching someone who’s good at it.
Whenever I’m next to someone who’s more hardcore than me, I sit on the bottom of my lane for a moment and watch their form. It’s helped me a lot!
Here’s to Ladies Who Lap. Congrats on your determination to survive their wakes 🙂
The Butterfly is one of the most retarded swimming skills in the world. Breaststroke or back stroke anyday.
But cheer up, maybe they’re just practicing for the next Olympics.
You mean, people besides Olympians actually DO the Butterfly? Huh…
Hey, I’m impressed you were even IN the pool. I spent most of the summer sitting on a lounge chair nearby and catching up on my library-book reading while my son splashed around. You’re Aquawoman in my book :).
I’m the girl floating on the raft . . .no butterfly stroke for me!
i read something wrong and spent half the entry thinking these wundertwins were in YOUR lane. like, sharing it. and once i got to the part about the butterfly, i’m thinking – how can three people fit in a lane if 2 of them are doing butterfly?
lol. i’m also a bit jealous you were swimming – i miss it!
Good luck with the swimming, Ilana! It’s a wonderful sport — low impact and a great cardio workout.
Joanne, I couldn’t help but think of Phelps, too! Wonder if he ever got humiliated in the pool? Nah. I think he was born swimming well.
Robin, that sounds like fun. I like to sit in the pool sometimes and read, letting the water keep me cool in the summers. Too bad just doing that doesn’t burn the calories I need to burn!
LOL, Erin! I like backstroke, too, but our pool doesn’t always have the flags up so when I’m in a middle lane I can’t tell how close to the wall I am. When they have the flags up, though, or I’m on an end lane, I love it.
Shannon, just watching people do butterfly makes me cringe in pain, probably because I was on the swim team and had to do it sometimes, and boy did it hurt! I have respect for people who do it, but I will never understand doing it for fun. Maybe…just because they can? Oh, and I’m totally with you on sitting underwater and watching people to improve your stokes. Ever have someone videotape you so you know what you look like swimming? That helps, too.
Yeah, Marilyn. Who knew? I tried it a few times for fun, and it never took.
Alyson, that has its benefits as well. For one thing, it’s a whole lot more fun.
Actually, Emily, they were, sort of. Sometimes when the pool is crowded they take out the lane lines in order to create more space. So we were in three lanes but without the lane lines. I didn’t want to go into all that detail, though, since the post was already long enough (I seem to be incapable of writing a short post!) so I tried to keep it simple. Sorry for the confusion.
Couldn’t agree more with you, Caryn–I despise the butterfly, despite loving to swim and also being a fitness instructor! In my worst moments, I suspect the butterfly may be bad for the rotator cuff–or at least that’s my reason for never doing it!