Life on swim team is sink or swim, not just men in Speedos
December 20, 2011
By Jacob Brunette
My thoughts on swim team, two months ago: pale men in Speedos. My thoughts on swim team, now: pale men in Speedos, who make me feel fat.
When I had joined swim team on a whim, I had assumed that pretty good physical fitness and basic knowledge about how to swim would be enough to put me somewhere in the middle of the team. Instead, I ended up swimming about as well as a drunken monkey. With asthma.
My arms flail around, my lungs can hold approximately no air, my legs kick more weakly than you would think possible after running cross-country for five years, and I have multiple scabs from scraping the bottom of the pool after a flip turn. (You would think turning around wouldn’t be that difficult. You would be wrong.)
Swim team is hard. I was expecting to go in for a relatively easy season that would keep me in shape over the winter, and instead I’m working harder than for any of the sports I actually care about. I get out of the pool every afternoon, ready to sleep until dinner, except then the entire team goes for a run or lifts weights. Because an hour of intense full-body workout isn’t enough.
Despite all my complaining, I’m happy I joined the team, although said happiness tends to only appear when I’m not actually swimming. It’s a fantastic workout and it’s going to make me so buff by the end of the season (haha, no). I’m even improving, little by little.
My asthmatic monkey now has an inhaler, and maybe, by February, I won’t be able to compare myself with an asthmatic monkey at all. Maybe.