Flashes of Panic

Wheaton’s pool is eight lanes wide and really, really long, with a sliding bulkhead to make the proper distance. (Meters, yards, or the same in the shallow end with space for a diving well at the deep end.) Once competition started, we could swim across the shallow end, behind the bulkhead, for warmup. Once you were wet, it got pretty cold if you stopped, so I wound up getting a pretty good warmup.

I swapped the new goggles I’d tried my practice starts with for the older pair (same model) which I’ve been practicing in, hoping they might stay on better. And just before the start, I got more advice from my brother: “If they come off, it’s a long enough race that it’s worth stopping and putting them back on.”

Enough foreshadowing? Starting in lane seven, I wound up with my goggles around my nose at the start. I sprinted for the far end, then spent a few quick seconds dumping the water and sealing them back on my eyes. As I pushed off to finish the lap, I heard someone (an official?) saying, “That’s just what I would do.”

One problem solved. The next? I was at least two body-lengths behind the entire race. I remembered those words, “it’s a long enough race,” and reminded myself that I didn’t need to make it all up in one lap.

Still, it took me another lap to shake off the adrenaline. (I could feel that I was jittery, identify it, and think about calming down, which I think was a good thing.) By 150m I felt like I had settled, and on the next lap I was halfway done. 400m goes a lot faster than 500y, as it turns out. As I passed halfway, I knew I was on a pretty aggressive pace, but I made the decision to hang on to it rather than save some. At about the same time, I realized that I was back in the race—lane eight was less than a body length ahead. On the return, I could see lane five was also in range. Pacing be damned, I was going to race these guys.

So I pushed. Lane eight was doing open turns, so I made up big chunks of distance on every turn by flipping. (In hindsight, too, I could be even more efficient with my turns; I get too close to the wall before I start turning, in order to get a good push-off. I should start my turn earlier and change the mechanics of it to get that push-off.) Lane five was just plain fading. With 100m remaining, I felt pretty confident trying to ramp the pace up; my arms were tired, but I could focus on my form and try to stay smooth. I was leading eight by more than a body-length now, but it was all turns; he was sprinting faster than I was. On the last lap, with nothing to save for, I just thought, kick, kick, kick. Use the big muscles, use the big oxygen. I could see bubbles on my left: lane eight had a phenomenal finish, but I was beating five.

The time was 5:55.79, good for seventh (of seven) in my age group, but ten points for the team. I was fifth in my heat, even after stopping for my goggles; lane eight was fourth. Better, we plugged the time in to the calculator, and it’s good for a 6:43 at 500y, which is only three seconds slower than my best—a best set in March, when I had a lot more yards behind me. And, I think, that goggle-stop was probably worth more than three seconds.

100m free and 100m breaststroke tomorrow, and relays if I get drafted. (Not today.) Maybe I’ll figure out starting with my goggles sealed.