Swimming like, a Hungarian????
I have to admit that I, like my teammate Heather, know very little about training, at least training to win. I find it as complicated as one of those giant puzzles, you know the ones that come in the huge box with a million pieces and microscopic details. You spend hours analyzing the pieces and putting them together to create a masterpiece. Sometimes it is easy and it flows, but most of the time you sit there cursing the pieces and attempting to shove them in places they do not fit. You end up with a huge mess and defiantly not the pretty picture you envisioned.
For some reason the one piece I seem to have figured out is the swim portion. I have heard all of the rumors regarding my ability to swim like a fish, but the truth is it is a lot of hard work and some genetic advantage. First, let me dispel the myths. One, I have a motor in my wetsuit, sorry, not true. If you have seen the size of my butt, then you would know that there is no way anything else is fitting in there.
I was an all-American, Olympic level swimmer, sorry, this one is false as well. I can hear all of my family and ex swimming teammates rolling on the floor laughing at this rumor. I did start swimming at six. I never had any formal training, no swim lessons, just my Dad and myself and a lake in Kentucky. I did have an advantage that my Father was an amazing teacher, but more on that later. I swam USS seriously until I was thirteen and for most of my career I was horrible. Yes horrible. I feel for my poor father who must have wanted to crawl under the bleachers and hide as he watched his daughter have near drowning experiences on a weekly basis. I was so bad that until I was eleven, I started at the bottom of results and went up. The same pools in which he dominated, he watched me loose. I lost in the same pool that my own last name was burned onto the record board. He never complained, never yelled, but I knew how disappointed he truly was. Something happened when I was eleven, my family relocated from Houston to a small town in South Carolina. It was part opportunity, my team was now one tenth the size, and part genetic luck, I shot up to 5’9 and I was now towering over my competition. I swam every event, but it was the 50 and 100 free that I excelled at. Out of nowhere my times dropped, I went from one of the worst swimmers to one of the best, and my Dad watched it all in amazement. The sad part of this story is that everyone else caught up and by 13, I was one of the smallest sprinters and my times stagnated. I switched to the 100 and 200 fly and did okay, but I was never on the podium.
My Dad had made me swim my whole life, and I hated it, but the deal was at 13, I could be done with the pool. So at 13, I handed over my goggles and enjoyed some time without chlorine. I did swim off and on, but mostly off, for the next two years, but never at the level I had been previously. I came to CU at 17 and read about the CU swim team. It was only a club team, but I thought it would be a great way to meet some people and ward off the freshman 15. I focused on the fly and 400 IM and made it a half a semester until I burned out. It was a combination of the early mornings, snowy days, and the need to get a job that made me hang it up for good. It would be eleven years before I would step foot on a pool deck again, so you see, most of my competition has probably been swimming just as long as I have.
So, all that is left is hard work and genetics. We will start with genetics. I am built to swim. I am pretty large and have the shoulders of a linebacker. I have long fingers and arms. I have size nine feet. I also have the turnover of one of those bath toys you pull the string and watch their arms flail around at the speed of sound. If I had a dollar for every time someone said well you are fast, but you have the worst form I have ever seen, I would be rich, Oprah rich. I also come from a family that has a rich swimming background. My Grandfather immigrated here in 1956 with ten children and four more to come. College was a must and swimming was the only way they could all afford to go. My Father was no exception and swam his way into the University of Kentucky. He was an amazing 500 freestyler, although he would never admit it. It was not until my Grandfather passed, and I read the numerous articles about my Father, that I realized what an amazing swimmer he is. He had failed to mention it. So I guess I do have some genetic advantage, albeit small.
All that is left is hard work. With all that is on my plate, two kids and a full time job, I have to squeeze in workouts whenever I can. If there is not enough time, swimming takes the hit. In a good week, I get in three sessions, in a bad two. I just started swimming masters again after a three year hiatus. The variety is good, but my arms hate all of the IM sets. Most of the time I swim alone, I like it that way. It gives me time to think. There is no one shouting my name, no work to be done, just me and the clock. I know you were probably thinking I was going to reveal some secret, but I have none to offer. I just swim hard when I can. If I get too cocky, I swim with people that are faster then me and try to keep up. I swim in the open water when I can, but not as much as I should. I still feel bad for all that time my father spent in that pool watching me swim. I think I was capable of swimming fast all along, but out of spite, I never tried. Maybe my true motivation is redemption for him. I feel bad for all the disappointment I brought him over the years and his failed dream of watching me become a swimming superstar. Dad, my swim in Ogden was for you. Hey, I even won a free wetsuit. See all those years of sacrifice finally paid off, even if it is 28 years later.