Friday, July 22, 2016

arms like propellers

20 July 2016
            Today, I went swimming in Ankeny. during the 10 minutes when those people under 18 were not allowed to swim, I did laps in a roped off area. I timed myself doing half a lap, thinking I was swimming at a generally good pace.
            My time was 24 seconds and something.
            It was my custom to pull my arms through the water normally, and by normally, I mean slowly, well, not exactly slowly but not with an overabundance of energy, either. I wasn’t stressing to any degree.  I was moving my arms through the water with a deliberate motion. This is what I always do—like I am in it for the long haul like a distance swimmer.
            At times, I’ve been thinking about swimming faster—about how to do it. How can I swim faster? When I watch people swim in the Olympics, do they do anything differently?  Then for some reason, I got the idea that maybe I should pull my arms through the water with great effort—try to move the arms as fast as possible. It sounds like a totally stupid thing to think, but it was life changing in my world. So, I swam the next time, pulling the arms through the water with the utmost effort. I didn’t, as I usually do, bring them through the water in a lackadaisical fashion, just going through the motions. I really pulled them—as fast as I could. Before my revelation, I was moving calmly, arm through, take a breath, arm through, take a breath. It was shooooove all the air out, suuuuuck new air in. I was happy about my form. I hardly had time to breath. Of course I needed to, but I think I did it only every OTHER stroke, and even then very quickly.
            This reminds me of something that my friend told me about coaching volleyball. When she was trying to get the girls to serve the ball over the net, they were failing. No matter how many times she showed the kids how to do it, they were futzing the ball like a watermelon. Then, like a top being removed from a jar of elbow grease, one of the girls said to one of the other girls, “Oh! You have to hit it really hard!” Mind you, they weren’t saying this to my friend, as if she had anything to do with the revelation, or that she had been telling them this for a week…no this was as if the young girl had come up with this idea independently. It was like they had just been given an injection of blood from near sea level—they started knocking down serves like they were catching fish at a fish farm. When she thought about the situation, she realized that she had not really been telling them to hit the ball really hard. She was simply showing them the proper technique. The really hard part was supposed to be assumed. You should do everything as strongly as possible, right?
            In the pool, I got the impression that my arms were moving like the propeller on a small aircraft. Instead of the plodding movement, my arms were flying through the water, giving me great speed. I kept lowering the time from 24 to 21.45 to my final effort of 19.98.  How nice to finish by breaking the 20 second barrier.




No comments:

Post a Comment