The Life Aquatic
Today, a woman stopped me in the hallway and asked me if I had, and I quote, “lost, like, 100 pounds!”
I’m going to file that under “is that a compliment?”
Moving right along.
Today was NS2K5: Day Two.
How do we feel about that acronym? I think I’m over it already. We’re now going to call this Operation: Aquatic. Until I change my mind.
So. Operation: Aquatic. Day Two.
I arranged to meet Coach Deux at the Y this morning. We shall call her… Korin. Or K2, Kristen being K1. We’ll see how that feels.
K2 boasts of having learned to swim before she could walk, which is both an advantage and a disadvantage when trying to teach someone else. She’s really, really good at it, but she ordinarily doesn’t think about the mechanics. But K1 had given me more than enough to think about on Tuesday, so I was mostly grateful to have her there for encouragement.
I may have to rethink that strategy.
K2 on Naomi’s swimming: “Well, you don’t look completely ridiculous. I thought I might have to pretend not to know you.”
More K2: “I’m glad I don’t have to worry about you drowning, anyway.”
And, after a reminder that she was meant to be moral support: “I told you I liked your swimsuit!”
To be fair, she did spend 45 minutes swimming at my geriatically slow pace (easy to gauge, as we were sharing the lane with actual geriatrics), offering tips and critiques, and, yes, encouragement. And her lesson on proper kicking form—“Pretend like you’re pedaling a tiny bicycle. Only remember to keep using your knees. It’s tiny, but it’s not a toe bicycle.”—just may be the best thing I’ve ever heard.
So here are the thoughts going through my mind, as I attempt to propel my body through the water:
Right arm.
Breathe. Sputter, cough. Stop, tread water, remind self: head turns, then breathe. Continue.
Right arm.
Head.
Breathe.
Meanwhile. Left arm.
Right arm.
Head.
Breathe.
Remember, stretch out whole body. Hips go with arms.
Left arm.
Right arm.
Head.
Breathe.
Elbows up, try to skim the water on recovery phase.
Breathe to the side, not the front.
Left arm.
Right arm.
Head.
Left arm.
Br—sputter. Oops.
Continue.
I’m still using the buoy to float my legs behind me, so except for a lap or two with the kickboard, thoughts of tiny bicycles will be saved for the future.
Progress is being made, however, and I can rest easy knowing that I don’t look completely ridiculous, and I’ve already lost, like, 100 pounds.
I’m going to file that under “is that a compliment?”
Moving right along.
Today was NS2K5: Day Two.
How do we feel about that acronym? I think I’m over it already. We’re now going to call this Operation: Aquatic. Until I change my mind.
So. Operation: Aquatic. Day Two.
I arranged to meet Coach Deux at the Y this morning. We shall call her… Korin. Or K2, Kristen being K1. We’ll see how that feels.
K2 boasts of having learned to swim before she could walk, which is both an advantage and a disadvantage when trying to teach someone else. She’s really, really good at it, but she ordinarily doesn’t think about the mechanics. But K1 had given me more than enough to think about on Tuesday, so I was mostly grateful to have her there for encouragement.
I may have to rethink that strategy.
K2 on Naomi’s swimming: “Well, you don’t look completely ridiculous. I thought I might have to pretend not to know you.”
More K2: “I’m glad I don’t have to worry about you drowning, anyway.”
And, after a reminder that she was meant to be moral support: “I told you I liked your swimsuit!”
To be fair, she did spend 45 minutes swimming at my geriatically slow pace (easy to gauge, as we were sharing the lane with actual geriatrics), offering tips and critiques, and, yes, encouragement. And her lesson on proper kicking form—“Pretend like you’re pedaling a tiny bicycle. Only remember to keep using your knees. It’s tiny, but it’s not a toe bicycle.”—just may be the best thing I’ve ever heard.
So here are the thoughts going through my mind, as I attempt to propel my body through the water:
Right arm.
Breathe. Sputter, cough. Stop, tread water, remind self: head turns, then breathe. Continue.
Right arm.
Head.
Breathe.
Meanwhile. Left arm.
Right arm.
Head.
Breathe.
Remember, stretch out whole body. Hips go with arms.
Left arm.
Right arm.
Head.
Breathe.
Elbows up, try to skim the water on recovery phase.
Breathe to the side, not the front.
Left arm.
Right arm.
Head.
Left arm.
Br—sputter. Oops.
Continue.
I’m still using the buoy to float my legs behind me, so except for a lap or two with the kickboard, thoughts of tiny bicycles will be saved for the future.
Progress is being made, however, and I can rest easy knowing that I don’t look completely ridiculous, and I’ve already lost, like, 100 pounds.
posted by Noames at 4:04 PM
4 Comments:
Wow, since you only weight 100 pounds, please don't lose any more or you will disappear. I'm glad you are passing on her swimming instructions so that we can all benefit. Although it sounds awfully complicated to me. I mean, I care barely ride my toe bicycle on dry ground...
Fun seeing you near the trail this morning! I got to say to my group, "Hey that was Naomi, remember her? She's training for a TRIATHALON." Like somehow, this makes me cool by association. So thanks!
Your account of the swimming is hilarious! I'm trying to make a runner out of myself and it hasn't been easy to convince my thighs to move that quickly. I'll be back for more inspiration.
Hey, I will have you know that the toe bicycle technique has worked for millions of non-drowning, not completely rediculous swimmers in the past.
And you can take out all of your swim-rage on me when N1 (and there will only be one) attempts to coach my running skills next week.
LOVE IT. i'm going swimming for the first time in YUH-EARS this week. should be interesting. hopefully i wont start thinking about your geriatric swimming image, start laughing, and drown... heheh.
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