Rugby is going on a retreat to Park City this weekend. It's totally a flashback to early swim years. I mean, one of my former swim/polo captains is leading the team around in many endeavors, and we're going to Park City to bond and lay down the essentials. It makes me think about swim a lot, and my old team, and how much I miss them, and how I'm going to miss the region swim meet because I'm on rugby retreat, and all the stupid-funny-ridiculous things I did with the swim team, and how great it felt to be on the deck with my swim fam. But it also gives me all this hope for the rugby team, and most of the hope I don't feel will come to fruition, simply because the terms have changed in so many ways that rugby can never be swim. But the similarites make my tummy jolt around.
It's a big jumble of stuff going on in my gut, y'know?
On the other hand, I'm thrilled that I have to buy a mouthguard tomorrow. Oh, and one of the coaches said I'll probably be playing a back position (unless I rebel, and I don't care enough at this point to do so), so that means scrum-half, fly-half, fullback, or a center (I won't play wing, 'cause I'm not fast enough). It also means I probably won't be in the mass of humanity that is a scrum, trying not to break my neck. It does mean I'll probably be tackled a lot, though, so I'll be lying on the ground trying to avoid cletes while my team and the enemy get into shoving contests over top of me. When I get in the game, that is.
Showing posts with label Swimming. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Swimming. Show all posts
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Friday, September 07, 2007
Duck Fluff
"You're a swimmer, aren't you?"
My professor caught me by surprise. I'd slipped into the lead on our field trip to the Writing Center--they had free food, so I'd already been there--and she'd pulled me up short with the question. I fumbled for a moment, trying to decide how she knew. I didn't smell like chlorine: I'd been out of a pool for weeks. My hair wasn't wet: my alarm hadn't gone off that morning in time to take a shower. The dead-giveaway shoulders were disguised: my backpack made it impossible to know that they were any wider than the rest of me.
"Yeah, I am. How'd you know?"
"That streak of hair on the back of your neck is bleached blond by the chlorine."
I laughed aloud. I'd been picked out as a swimmer many times, but never by the gathering of too-short hairs on the nape of my neck. "Duck fluff" was always a subject of mild amusement for my teammates and me, but I had never been branded on account of the extra light streak at my nape.
My professor caught me by surprise. I'd slipped into the lead on our field trip to the Writing Center--they had free food, so I'd already been there--and she'd pulled me up short with the question. I fumbled for a moment, trying to decide how she knew. I didn't smell like chlorine: I'd been out of a pool for weeks. My hair wasn't wet: my alarm hadn't gone off that morning in time to take a shower. The dead-giveaway shoulders were disguised: my backpack made it impossible to know that they were any wider than the rest of me.
"Yeah, I am. How'd you know?"
"That streak of hair on the back of your neck is bleached blond by the chlorine."
I laughed aloud. I'd been picked out as a swimmer many times, but never by the gathering of too-short hairs on the nape of my neck. "Duck fluff" was always a subject of mild amusement for my teammates and me, but I had never been branded on account of the extra light streak at my nape.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Anecdotes
So about halfway through swim practice today I realized something very amusing.
I held hands with the Homecoming King.
The thought made me laugh really, really hard. Of course, it was all a part of the Valentine's Day swim practice, where we pair up somewhat according to relative speed and have to remain in physical contact with a member of the opposite sex practically the entire time. For the first set, we were required to hold hands, and then after that we could do whatever was most efficient (which, we found, involves swimming with one person holding onto one of the other person's ankles). It could have been awkward, and I could think of a dozen girls who would have killed to be in my place, but I just thought the science of swimming with two people was really fun. And it was way funny when I put it in the words above.
I ended the day by having the leopard seal jump in the pool on top of my head. Apparently he didn't see me. One hundred thirty-five pounds landed directly on my head. Oddly enough, five minutes later, I felt fine. It's now that I have a headache, after doing explications for a goodly long while.
1984 is kinda hard to do them on, just so you know.
I held hands with the Homecoming King.
The thought made me laugh really, really hard. Of course, it was all a part of the Valentine's Day swim practice, where we pair up somewhat according to relative speed and have to remain in physical contact with a member of the opposite sex practically the entire time. For the first set, we were required to hold hands, and then after that we could do whatever was most efficient (which, we found, involves swimming with one person holding onto one of the other person's ankles). It could have been awkward, and I could think of a dozen girls who would have killed to be in my place, but I just thought the science of swimming with two people was really fun. And it was way funny when I put it in the words above.
I ended the day by having the leopard seal jump in the pool on top of my head. Apparently he didn't see me. One hundred thirty-five pounds landed directly on my head. Oddly enough, five minutes later, I felt fine. It's now that I have a headache, after doing explications for a goodly long while.
1984 is kinda hard to do them on, just so you know.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Taper Shark
It started with the tongue. It always does. The tongue is always the first thing to go. The tip of the tongue in the most susceptible, and that area shows the earliest signs. Before long, the entire muscle has fallen to the influence of the transformation, and things start to happen unbidden.
The first thing to die was my smile. My rebellious tongue took over the function, and weaseled out from between my lips whenever a hint of a smile came to my face. I don’t know what people thought of me when I was always sticking out my tongue, but that became the least of my worries.
My lips fell next, and with both them and my tongue out of commission, my language skills noticeably dropped. Instead of words, I began to make inarticulate sounds that babbled from my mouth like an inane brook. And when the sounds failed, spitting followed. There is actually quite a lot one can say with only water and the nerve to spit it at people. Even spitting it at nobody can make quite a statement—it’s all in the tone and delivery. Still, I was worried that I had resorted to such primitive tactics so early. The vibrating energy wriggled under my skin, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I wouldn’t be able to hold it in.
The most frightening of the transformations began with my teeth. Before I knew what I was thinking, I was gnawing on the lump of hair that stuck out from the back of my friend’s head. A bun, I believe it is called. When covered with latex, the structure makes an excellent chew toy—the texture is marvelous. Slowly, the compulsions became stronger, and I nearly bit my friend’s leg. But I stopped myself before I actually closed my teeth on the flesh of her shank; I only touched her skin before letting her pull away.
I suppose this is something like how a werewolf feels. He knows the transformation is coming, he knows what it means. Yet there is nothing he can do to stop it, nothing to do but to watch, and wait for the deep insanity to take hold of his consciousness.
At least this doesn’t happen every month. It’s only once a year, even if it is for a few weeks at a time.
_____________________________
Taper is driving me extra-insane this year. Next week is going to be craaaaaazy.
The first thing to die was my smile. My rebellious tongue took over the function, and weaseled out from between my lips whenever a hint of a smile came to my face. I don’t know what people thought of me when I was always sticking out my tongue, but that became the least of my worries.
My lips fell next, and with both them and my tongue out of commission, my language skills noticeably dropped. Instead of words, I began to make inarticulate sounds that babbled from my mouth like an inane brook. And when the sounds failed, spitting followed. There is actually quite a lot one can say with only water and the nerve to spit it at people. Even spitting it at nobody can make quite a statement—it’s all in the tone and delivery. Still, I was worried that I had resorted to such primitive tactics so early. The vibrating energy wriggled under my skin, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I wouldn’t be able to hold it in.
The most frightening of the transformations began with my teeth. Before I knew what I was thinking, I was gnawing on the lump of hair that stuck out from the back of my friend’s head. A bun, I believe it is called. When covered with latex, the structure makes an excellent chew toy—the texture is marvelous. Slowly, the compulsions became stronger, and I nearly bit my friend’s leg. But I stopped myself before I actually closed my teeth on the flesh of her shank; I only touched her skin before letting her pull away.
I suppose this is something like how a werewolf feels. He knows the transformation is coming, he knows what it means. Yet there is nothing he can do to stop it, nothing to do but to watch, and wait for the deep insanity to take hold of his consciousness.
At least this doesn’t happen every month. It’s only once a year, even if it is for a few weeks at a time.
_____________________________
Taper is driving me extra-insane this year. Next week is going to be craaaaaazy.
Saturday, December 23, 2006
12 Days of Christmas Practice, 2006
On the twelfth day of practice
My swim coach gave to me:
12 x 25 EZ
11 x 50 IM
10 x 25 sprint
9 x 50 kick
8 x 25 sprint
7 x 100 free
6 x 50 free
5 x 100 IM’s
4 x 25 sprint
3 x 50 stroke
2 x 75 drill
AND ONE TWO-FIFTY FREE!
My swim coach gave to me:
12 x 25 EZ
11 x 50 IM
10 x 25 sprint
9 x 50 kick
8 x 25 sprint
7 x 100 free
6 x 50 free
5 x 100 IM’s
4 x 25 sprint
3 x 50 stroke
2 x 75 drill
AND ONE TWO-FIFTY FREE!
Friday, October 20, 2006
Fundamentally Different
Time for a little venting. Girls cannot do everything guys can do in an athletic sense. Girls who argue against that point are ignorant of basic facts. However, there are some things in athletics that guys cannot do as well as girls. This allotment of specialies is the inequality that actually iritates me greatly.
Let us take a trip to practice today. I swam with the top two girls on the team in my lane (we were only three to a lane, because people were missing). Now, I'm not even relay material anymore (the ferret officially beat me out of my last-hope relay spot unless I pull off a miracle). I'm not a top-ranker. I've scored one point in a state meet. A great accomplishment, but nothing extraordinary. Yet I was not only beating top-rank guys in a set, I was doing a faster set. There were guys doing the times I was doing too, but I was beating guys that were higher in the guys' pecking order than I am in the girls' pecking order. This is nothing new. I do it almost every day, and I'm not the only one. Of the two lanes that normally do the sets I do, one is girls and the other is guys. The majority of the girls' lane often beats the majority of the guys' lane.
But when it comes to races, to meets, do the girls even come close? No! I get beat by every stinkin' one of them! The slowest varsity guys can pull off times equal to or better than mine, despite the fact that in practice I can beat some of the guys that make up their relays (not all; I didn't say all). It drives me crazy!
Now, we could blame this on male lethargy and ego, or a hypothetical female inability to compete (though I don't know if either of those, especially the last one, could ever be proven). But scientifically, women are better suited to extended physical exertion. Women are more inclined to endurance than to explosion. This isn't just through observation: the chemical levels prove it too. I can't remember what either chemical is called, but women have more of the endurance chemical and men have more of the sprinting chemical.
I guess that what is meant to be is what is, but that doesn't mean it can't irritate me from time to time.
Let us take a trip to practice today. I swam with the top two girls on the team in my lane (we were only three to a lane, because people were missing). Now, I'm not even relay material anymore (the ferret officially beat me out of my last-hope relay spot unless I pull off a miracle). I'm not a top-ranker. I've scored one point in a state meet. A great accomplishment, but nothing extraordinary. Yet I was not only beating top-rank guys in a set, I was doing a faster set. There were guys doing the times I was doing too, but I was beating guys that were higher in the guys' pecking order than I am in the girls' pecking order. This is nothing new. I do it almost every day, and I'm not the only one. Of the two lanes that normally do the sets I do, one is girls and the other is guys. The majority of the girls' lane often beats the majority of the guys' lane.
But when it comes to races, to meets, do the girls even come close? No! I get beat by every stinkin' one of them! The slowest varsity guys can pull off times equal to or better than mine, despite the fact that in practice I can beat some of the guys that make up their relays (not all; I didn't say all). It drives me crazy!
Now, we could blame this on male lethargy and ego, or a hypothetical female inability to compete (though I don't know if either of those, especially the last one, could ever be proven). But scientifically, women are better suited to extended physical exertion. Women are more inclined to endurance than to explosion. This isn't just through observation: the chemical levels prove it too. I can't remember what either chemical is called, but women have more of the endurance chemical and men have more of the sprinting chemical.
I guess that what is meant to be is what is, but that doesn't mean it can't irritate me from time to time.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Disappointment
So, today I not only swam terrible times, but I ruined an almost three-year stint at a goal I made...almost three years ago. Around that time, I made a goal not to punch people anymore. Stop laughing--the goal wasn't to stop hitting people altogether, just no closed-fist, full effort punches (since that's my definition of a punch anyway). Well, I punched someone today. I made at least half the girls' swim team happy while I was at it, but that's only a minor consolation.
Moreover, Ayliel and Maylene are fighting again. This time Maylene has a stronger front; she is fueled by leftover mad cow disease that wasn't dispelled with an antibiotic dose of real life.
All in all, not the most pleasant of days for me.
Moreover, Ayliel and Maylene are fighting again. This time Maylene has a stronger front; she is fueled by leftover mad cow disease that wasn't dispelled with an antibiotic dose of real life.
All in all, not the most pleasant of days for me.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Sweet Madame Blue
Since I have found myself in possession of time I did not intend to have, and because literary constructions is waiting for blueprints, and even though I should be in bed, I've decided to chronicle an event that was insightful, fun, and altogether satisfying. Of course, as it always is, anything important takes me forever to write.
Today was the Blue & Gold swim meet. For captains, those words spell stress. (I know, us captains can't read very well.) About a week ago, we picked our teams, and my team--BLUE--got stiffed with first pick. See, the system works like this: the first pick chooses one person (guys and girls choose together) and the second pick chooses two. Then we go along, choosing two at a time. Well, long story short, the teams were even in an uneven way; Blue's girls were handicapped when compared to Gold's girls, but Gold's guys were not matched perfectly with Blue's guys. So really, for me, it became a matter of hanging on to enough points to have my guys' team make up the difference. Sounds easy, don't it?
Not so much. I had forgotten to pick a backstroker. Not through sheer stupidity, but through confusion. I thought I had picked one, but my co-captain and I second-guessed for a moment and chose a guy for some reason (it was a good reason, I just can't remember it). So I went the entire time thinking I had a backstroker, all the while leaving a noticeable gap in my lineup. (I had no sprinters either, but I can make people sprint.)
In the end, responsibility for filling the gap fell to me--but I'm not a backstroker. My seed time was six seconds behind the second-slot backstroker (by the way, six seconds is a LOT). Anyway, enough about personal stress; let's move on to the stress that filling up the rest of the team gave me.
Really, the Blue & Gold is an elaborate game of rock-paper-scissors. Each captain tries to guess what the other captain will do, thus changing the strategy and fight for points. The Gold girls' captain was scientific about this; she got stats, numbers, times, charts, etc. from the coach's website and other sources. I visited the charts too, and wrote down a few times, but mostly I just thought it out over the course of four or five days. Eventually, I decided that I couldn't guess any better than I already had, and I threw my lineup together in 45-60 minutes. Not too shabby.
The only benefit of the way I did it was that the greyhound, the Gold girl captain, overestimated my intelligence. Of course, I helped her by talking about a supposed "stroke of brilliance" all week, but she should know better than to believe me when I'm trash talking. She thought I would split the fast people up in my relays to ensure second and third place, seeing as I couldn't take first against the fastest relays they could put up. So I won every relay, because she split her relays. Hah. Take that. That's what you get for out-thinking me on the fly, I.M., and 200 free.
Ultimately, I had my lineup set and there was nothing I could do about it but motivate people. Unfortunately, my best manner of motivation--yelling--doesn't always work on peers. I had to be NUTURING. Can you say "shoot me"? Before the first three events were through, I had two people stop in the middle of races. I had both of them telling me I was terrible for asking them to do the things I did. One of them, I might add, was doing the exact same events she does every stinking meet, but I still got crap about it. The other just wouldn't listen...to me, anyway. Eventually she finished the race, but she continually asked me to scratch her out of her second event. Hello! I can't do that! I only have twelve girls to work with! I need the events filled, hun! But saying that would have been mean. So I had to nuture. I growled to myself a couple of times.
But all was not lost, for others stepped up where I hadn't expected them to. There are twin freshman on the team, and I chose one over the other because--looking at the numbers--she does well under pressure. In the 500 yard freestyle, the longest race we swim in high school, these JV swimmers managed to finish within a tenth of a second of each other. But the one on my team came out on top in spite of nearly missing her last wall. I was so happy! You have no idea.
The meet wore on, times were placed, points scored, key DQs pronounced, I dropped two seconds on my backstroke time and forced the girl next to me to match her Region time, and in the end...well, let's look back on history.
I have never been on a winning team in the B&G. Never ever.
BUT I WAS TODAY! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! The Gold team had to serve us dinner tonight, because they LOST! Hah! Spaghetti never tasted so good. Delish.
My moral of the story: I'll never get mad at Dan about a meet's setup again, and I'll always try to do what he's asking me to do. Also, never underestimate your opponent, or your allies.
Though I guess the greyhound's moral would be: Don't overestimate people who don't like to do research.
Today was the Blue & Gold swim meet. For captains, those words spell stress. (I know, us captains can't read very well.) About a week ago, we picked our teams, and my team--BLUE--got stiffed with first pick. See, the system works like this: the first pick chooses one person (guys and girls choose together) and the second pick chooses two. Then we go along, choosing two at a time. Well, long story short, the teams were even in an uneven way; Blue's girls were handicapped when compared to Gold's girls, but Gold's guys were not matched perfectly with Blue's guys. So really, for me, it became a matter of hanging on to enough points to have my guys' team make up the difference. Sounds easy, don't it?
Not so much. I had forgotten to pick a backstroker. Not through sheer stupidity, but through confusion. I thought I had picked one, but my co-captain and I second-guessed for a moment and chose a guy for some reason (it was a good reason, I just can't remember it). So I went the entire time thinking I had a backstroker, all the while leaving a noticeable gap in my lineup. (I had no sprinters either, but I can make people sprint.)
In the end, responsibility for filling the gap fell to me--but I'm not a backstroker. My seed time was six seconds behind the second-slot backstroker (by the way, six seconds is a LOT). Anyway, enough about personal stress; let's move on to the stress that filling up the rest of the team gave me.
Really, the Blue & Gold is an elaborate game of rock-paper-scissors. Each captain tries to guess what the other captain will do, thus changing the strategy and fight for points. The Gold girls' captain was scientific about this; she got stats, numbers, times, charts, etc. from the coach's website and other sources. I visited the charts too, and wrote down a few times, but mostly I just thought it out over the course of four or five days. Eventually, I decided that I couldn't guess any better than I already had, and I threw my lineup together in 45-60 minutes. Not too shabby.
The only benefit of the way I did it was that the greyhound, the Gold girl captain, overestimated my intelligence. Of course, I helped her by talking about a supposed "stroke of brilliance" all week, but she should know better than to believe me when I'm trash talking. She thought I would split the fast people up in my relays to ensure second and third place, seeing as I couldn't take first against the fastest relays they could put up. So I won every relay, because she split her relays. Hah. Take that. That's what you get for out-thinking me on the fly, I.M., and 200 free.
Ultimately, I had my lineup set and there was nothing I could do about it but motivate people. Unfortunately, my best manner of motivation--yelling--doesn't always work on peers. I had to be NUTURING. Can you say "shoot me"? Before the first three events were through, I had two people stop in the middle of races. I had both of them telling me I was terrible for asking them to do the things I did. One of them, I might add, was doing the exact same events she does every stinking meet, but I still got crap about it. The other just wouldn't listen...to me, anyway. Eventually she finished the race, but she continually asked me to scratch her out of her second event. Hello! I can't do that! I only have twelve girls to work with! I need the events filled, hun! But saying that would have been mean. So I had to nuture. I growled to myself a couple of times.
But all was not lost, for others stepped up where I hadn't expected them to. There are twin freshman on the team, and I chose one over the other because--looking at the numbers--she does well under pressure. In the 500 yard freestyle, the longest race we swim in high school, these JV swimmers managed to finish within a tenth of a second of each other. But the one on my team came out on top in spite of nearly missing her last wall. I was so happy! You have no idea.
The meet wore on, times were placed, points scored, key DQs pronounced, I dropped two seconds on my backstroke time and forced the girl next to me to match her Region time, and in the end...well, let's look back on history.
I have never been on a winning team in the B&G. Never ever.
BUT I WAS TODAY! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! The Gold team had to serve us dinner tonight, because they LOST! Hah! Spaghetti never tasted so good. Delish.
My moral of the story: I'll never get mad at Dan about a meet's setup again, and I'll always try to do what he's asking me to do. Also, never underestimate your opponent, or your allies.
Though I guess the greyhound's moral would be: Don't overestimate people who don't like to do research.
Friday, September 01, 2006
Home?
My home is ruined. I'm not kidding. In one particular place for which I feel a great deal of affection, at least half the import of the place has been stripped away, replaced with unfinished new wood. Every mark that has so engaged my mind for countless years has been not only attacked, but completely removed from my sight. Every carving that has exemplified my time spent there has been totally eradicated from the vicinity. The unintelligible markings on the eastern wall that had given rise to so much fond speculation have vanished.
Not only this, but the very entrance of my abode has been remade to look like that of other homes, and not like mine at all. The characteristics that so defined it in my mind are blotched out by new additions, and the smell is not that of my dwelling. It is the scent of newness, so unlike the aroma that has welcomed me upon my return every day prior to this. The sheer vastness of the entry has robbed the passage of its former closeness, its former protection. Bare and open, it is mine no longer.
In summary, the new additions to the Rec. Center are nice, and I'm sure a lot of people will enjoy the steam sauna (I will not be among them), but I can't help but feel that I've lost a part of my past with the remodling. Especially with the stripping of the sauna walls.
Not only this, but the very entrance of my abode has been remade to look like that of other homes, and not like mine at all. The characteristics that so defined it in my mind are blotched out by new additions, and the smell is not that of my dwelling. It is the scent of newness, so unlike the aroma that has welcomed me upon my return every day prior to this. The sheer vastness of the entry has robbed the passage of its former closeness, its former protection. Bare and open, it is mine no longer.
In summary, the new additions to the Rec. Center are nice, and I'm sure a lot of people will enjoy the steam sauna (I will not be among them), but I can't help but feel that I've lost a part of my past with the remodling. Especially with the stripping of the sauna walls.
Friday, February 24, 2006
Osprey Opening
Hah! San Diego gave me more than sun. I got closer to the team, and one team member in particular decided that it was okay to talk in the presence of girls.
I have been swimming with the osprey since I was eleven. Yes, six years. Not once in those six years have we exchanged more words at once than, "Hey, good job" and "Thanks". Every once in a while it would be, "Thanks, you too." I have now had two conversations that lasted at least a minute each with this guy. Wow. Milestone moment.
I have been swimming with the osprey since I was eleven. Yes, six years. Not once in those six years have we exchanged more words at once than, "Hey, good job" and "Thanks". Every once in a while it would be, "Thanks, you too." I have now had two conversations that lasted at least a minute each with this guy. Wow. Milestone moment.
Monday, January 30, 2006
State Qualifications
I qualified for State in two individual events! I've never done that before! I'm ranked 14th in the 500 free (scoring range!) and 19th in the IM (I'm 1-2 seconds away from scoring range!). I'm excited. I'm thinking of dying the tips of my hair blue.
Saturday, January 28, 2006
Capture
This post relates to events that occured on January 26, despite the disillusionment created by my procrastination.
The ocelot paced around the base of the tree, twitching her tail. One of the creatures called at her to stay behind the trunk, but the cat shrugged off the comment. It wasn't as though the tree hid the small group of river folk. The self-assumed leader of the escapade didn't know the first thing about hiding and hunting in the woods. But then, what can one expect from a flamingo? Regardless of the bird's good intentions, if their quarry looked their way, they would be seen whether the ocelot stopped pacing or not.
The bobcat padded up to the clump of creatures and whispered to them. "Her mother says that she will be leaving their den in a bit. She has some musical gathering."
The ocelot smirked. She guessed that the musical gathering involved the malamute and the tomcat, among others that she knew. She decided that she didn't quite care.
The flamingo led the way to the opening of the den, doing her best to be inconspicuous. The ocelot rolled her eyes, but followed silently. The creatures split into two groups, one at one side of the den and one at the other.
"Goodbye, Mother!" their target called from the tunnel. The ocelot grinned. Perfect.
The small cat crouched low, and she saw the bobcat do the same across the way. They watched a black nose emerge from the den without moving. The flamingo twitched, but took her cues from the hunters. A long gray muzzle followed the nose. The bobcat and the ocelot waited for the greyhound's neck and shoulders to appear before the leapt. The bobcat bowled the dog over and the ocelot fell across the canine's eyes. The smaller cat held on tightly until the flamingo approached with a wide leaf to bind over the dog's eyes. Snickering silently, the group snatched the confused canine and dragged her away.
Remaining near to silence during the entire journey, the river folk carried the greyhound all the way to the flamingo's pond and tossed her in. The dog yelped in surprise, then caught her balance in the water and rubbed off the blindfold. She looked up to her friends. The ocelot, along with all the others, shouted, "Happy birthday!"
Hah, sorry about that mishap, tomcat. How were we to know you had planned a band practice at the exact same time that we planned the greyhound's birthday party?
The ocelot paced around the base of the tree, twitching her tail. One of the creatures called at her to stay behind the trunk, but the cat shrugged off the comment. It wasn't as though the tree hid the small group of river folk. The self-assumed leader of the escapade didn't know the first thing about hiding and hunting in the woods. But then, what can one expect from a flamingo? Regardless of the bird's good intentions, if their quarry looked their way, they would be seen whether the ocelot stopped pacing or not.
The bobcat padded up to the clump of creatures and whispered to them. "Her mother says that she will be leaving their den in a bit. She has some musical gathering."
The ocelot smirked. She guessed that the musical gathering involved the malamute and the tomcat, among others that she knew. She decided that she didn't quite care.
The flamingo led the way to the opening of the den, doing her best to be inconspicuous. The ocelot rolled her eyes, but followed silently. The creatures split into two groups, one at one side of the den and one at the other.
"Goodbye, Mother!" their target called from the tunnel. The ocelot grinned. Perfect.
The small cat crouched low, and she saw the bobcat do the same across the way. They watched a black nose emerge from the den without moving. The flamingo twitched, but took her cues from the hunters. A long gray muzzle followed the nose. The bobcat and the ocelot waited for the greyhound's neck and shoulders to appear before the leapt. The bobcat bowled the dog over and the ocelot fell across the canine's eyes. The smaller cat held on tightly until the flamingo approached with a wide leaf to bind over the dog's eyes. Snickering silently, the group snatched the confused canine and dragged her away.
Remaining near to silence during the entire journey, the river folk carried the greyhound all the way to the flamingo's pond and tossed her in. The dog yelped in surprise, then caught her balance in the water and rubbed off the blindfold. She looked up to her friends. The ocelot, along with all the others, shouted, "Happy birthday!"
Hah, sorry about that mishap, tomcat. How were we to know you had planned a band practice at the exact same time that we planned the greyhound's birthday party?
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Bungee Swimming
Bungee swimming is probably the funnest type of practice that is given to us. You all have no idea. I guess it's not bungee swimming, per se, but that's what we call it. The chords are more like rubber tubes with a belt on one end and a strap on the other. We hook the strap to the starting block and the belt to the swimmer. The swimmer then swims (or pulls on the lane line) to the other side of the pool, stretching the chord extremely tight.
Now is when we pit the watchers against the swimmer. The swimmer's goal is to swim fast enough to get the tube to have a little slack. The watchers' goal is to pull the chord fast enough that no slack is created. The swimmer never wins, but even so, she gets an awesomely fun experience along with it.
However, my lame-o lane was skittish about the chords (they tend to have flaws, causing welts if one isn't careful), and very, very few would help pull the chord. The serval and I ended up with the brunt of the work; one other girl helped whenever one of us was in the water. The result is that my hands are heinously sore, mostly from the chord and partially from the lane line. But it was lots of fun. With the chord, you can swim a 25 so frigretchen fast! I love it.
Now is when we pit the watchers against the swimmer. The swimmer's goal is to swim fast enough to get the tube to have a little slack. The watchers' goal is to pull the chord fast enough that no slack is created. The swimmer never wins, but even so, she gets an awesomely fun experience along with it.
However, my lame-o lane was skittish about the chords (they tend to have flaws, causing welts if one isn't careful), and very, very few would help pull the chord. The serval and I ended up with the brunt of the work; one other girl helped whenever one of us was in the water. The result is that my hands are heinously sore, mostly from the chord and partially from the lane line. But it was lots of fun. With the chord, you can swim a 25 so frigretchen fast! I love it.
Sunday, January 22, 2006
Region VII Meet
Region Review:
Our guys dominated! Several of the guys upset horrendously, and SHS rolled over and died, so the margin between first and second was substantial. The girls sufffered key losses, and we took fourth by a larger amount than we were supposed to. The serval feels horrible about her last race; she added ten seconds and fell out of scoring range.
Individually, I did well. In the I.M. I moved up from 8th to 6th place and I dropped a half a second. I think I'll make it to state! The 500 was much cooler.
Recap: At the LHS vs. OHS swim meet, I swam the five. The girl next to me had a seed time six seconds faster than me, and I decided to pace off of her to go faster. I kept up with her perfectly, but she out-thouched me at the end. And you know what else? SHE DIDN'T GO HER TIME! She went my time, so really my pacing off of her did nothing for me, AND I lost. Since then, I've been itching for a rematch, and I've engrained a rivalry in my blood.
Come Region, I was delighted to find that we were seeded next to each other, and we would be in the center of the lanes: perfect for pacing off of each other and creating competition. In my excitement for the meet, I would often say, "I'm swimming the five against ________, whom I hate." Not a I-want-to-kill-you hate, but a healthy hate. Seven seconds worth of hate.
When I got into that pool, my only goal was to blow her out of the water. I had spent the past two and a half hours getting focused. I was so focused, I was about to snap. I went out fast; too fast, if I wanted to keep a steady pace. However, steady pacing was not my goal. When I got to the 15th lap (there are 20 in the 500), my lap counter was signaling that my coach wanted me to pick up my pace by one second. When I saw that, I just about puked there and then. I still had five laps to go. The only thing that kept breakfast in my stomach was the knowledge that if I threw up, they'd stop the race and I'd have to do it all over again. So I died at the end. My last few laps were signaled by continued efforts to get me to speed up and kick harder. But I was several body lengths ahead of the other girl, so my prime motivation was satisfied. Even with the dying that occured, when I pulled into the wall, I had a time seven seconds faster than my seed time: 6:11.
Even better, in my 8th-place ranking, I should have earned five points. I broke into the fastest heat and took 5th place (one shy of a medal), earning 10. I was really, really, really happy.
Oh, and then there was Preference. I'd almost venture to say that it was the funnest date I've been on. But I'll go into detail in another post. Right now, I need sleep.
Our guys dominated! Several of the guys upset horrendously, and SHS rolled over and died, so the margin between first and second was substantial. The girls sufffered key losses, and we took fourth by a larger amount than we were supposed to. The serval feels horrible about her last race; she added ten seconds and fell out of scoring range.
Individually, I did well. In the I.M. I moved up from 8th to 6th place and I dropped a half a second. I think I'll make it to state! The 500 was much cooler.
Recap: At the LHS vs. OHS swim meet, I swam the five. The girl next to me had a seed time six seconds faster than me, and I decided to pace off of her to go faster. I kept up with her perfectly, but she out-thouched me at the end. And you know what else? SHE DIDN'T GO HER TIME! She went my time, so really my pacing off of her did nothing for me, AND I lost. Since then, I've been itching for a rematch, and I've engrained a rivalry in my blood.
Come Region, I was delighted to find that we were seeded next to each other, and we would be in the center of the lanes: perfect for pacing off of each other and creating competition. In my excitement for the meet, I would often say, "I'm swimming the five against ________, whom I hate." Not a I-want-to-kill-you hate, but a healthy hate. Seven seconds worth of hate.
When I got into that pool, my only goal was to blow her out of the water. I had spent the past two and a half hours getting focused. I was so focused, I was about to snap. I went out fast; too fast, if I wanted to keep a steady pace. However, steady pacing was not my goal. When I got to the 15th lap (there are 20 in the 500), my lap counter was signaling that my coach wanted me to pick up my pace by one second. When I saw that, I just about puked there and then. I still had five laps to go. The only thing that kept breakfast in my stomach was the knowledge that if I threw up, they'd stop the race and I'd have to do it all over again. So I died at the end. My last few laps were signaled by continued efforts to get me to speed up and kick harder. But I was several body lengths ahead of the other girl, so my prime motivation was satisfied. Even with the dying that occured, when I pulled into the wall, I had a time seven seconds faster than my seed time: 6:11.
Even better, in my 8th-place ranking, I should have earned five points. I broke into the fastest heat and took 5th place (one shy of a medal), earning 10. I was really, really, really happy.
Oh, and then there was Preference. I'd almost venture to say that it was the funnest date I've been on. But I'll go into detail in another post. Right now, I need sleep.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
I've Got a Feeling
And it feels something like numbness. All over! I have hips, and I have feet, but I can't feel my legs! My arms are nearly nonexistent! My back feels funny; I can tell where everything is. Awkward. And I have come to the conclusion that since my attendance at the state meet is so questionable, I will wear my shnazzy state suit to Region. It is so cool. But very thin-feeling. Awkward again. That's okay though, 'cause I can double up when I'm not swimming.
It's really funny when the swim team guys shave their heads. It makes me laugh, and bald/recovering-from-being-bald heads are fun to rub.
Oh, and my scheduled events for Region are:
200 IM
500 Free
The first is tomorrow, the second is Saturday. I'm an alternate for two relays, but I doubt that anyone is going to die between now and then, so I don't think I'll swim those.
It's really funny when the swim team guys shave their heads. It makes me laugh, and bald/recovering-from-being-bald heads are fun to rub.
Oh, and my scheduled events for Region are:
200 IM
500 Free
The first is tomorrow, the second is Saturday. I'm an alternate for two relays, but I doubt that anyone is going to die between now and then, so I don't think I'll swim those.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Taper Entry Dos
Heh, you're going to be getting a lot of these. Today in Taper:
My lane, consisting of six girls, sang songs. Not quietly, and not similar songs. They varied each time we hit the wall and we never finished any of them. We drove everybody crazy, but what did we care? We reenacted inside jokes, such as "What's in the water?" and "Breastroke? Breastroke? WE DON'T NEED NO STINKING BREASTROKE!" and "Do you feel violated yet?" and "This is how I'd (insert an action) if I had no arms!" Oh, good times, good times. Our coaches were muttering, "I hate taper" over and over again. It made me grin. Then we were told to do eight entire 50's on 1:15, and no faster. In case you're wondering, that is actually really hard. We have to get creative.
Some people cope with this requirement by doing flips down the pool and back, non-stop. Wow. I can't do that. Sometimes the drill "corkscrew" works (I'm not going to try to explain corkscrew), but that just makes you sick and you don't get any air. My method was less dizzying, but it certainly required more skill (no, I'm not conceited; I'm the humblest person I know). I swam backwards--not backstroke; backwards--for a third of the pool, then swam slowly but normally for the remaining time. I did this in both directions. The result was that I slowed up the people behind me, but I came in on exactly the right time. When that became too mentally taxing, I resorted to climbing underwater along the lane line like a monkey and resting at the far wall to make up the difference in time. This was less skill-intensive, but much more relaxing. Swimming backwards takes thought! You try it sometime, and you'll see what I mean. It takes coordination. I think I almost have a method for it, though. But everything's backwards, and you can't kick hard, or you won't move, but you can't just not kick, or your feet will sink. Rotation becomes crucial, if only to remind you to do your stroke recovery right.
Hah, I bet this makes hardly any sense. That's okay though; Taper rarely makes sense to anyone but swimmers.
Mwahaha! The guys are going to freeze tomorrow night. *evil cackle*
My lane, consisting of six girls, sang songs. Not quietly, and not similar songs. They varied each time we hit the wall and we never finished any of them. We drove everybody crazy, but what did we care? We reenacted inside jokes, such as "What's in the water?" and "Breastroke? Breastroke? WE DON'T NEED NO STINKING BREASTROKE!" and "Do you feel violated yet?" and "This is how I'd (insert an action) if I had no arms!" Oh, good times, good times. Our coaches were muttering, "I hate taper" over and over again. It made me grin. Then we were told to do eight entire 50's on 1:15, and no faster. In case you're wondering, that is actually really hard. We have to get creative.
Some people cope with this requirement by doing flips down the pool and back, non-stop. Wow. I can't do that. Sometimes the drill "corkscrew" works (I'm not going to try to explain corkscrew), but that just makes you sick and you don't get any air. My method was less dizzying, but it certainly required more skill (no, I'm not conceited; I'm the humblest person I know). I swam backwards--not backstroke; backwards--for a third of the pool, then swam slowly but normally for the remaining time. I did this in both directions. The result was that I slowed up the people behind me, but I came in on exactly the right time. When that became too mentally taxing, I resorted to climbing underwater along the lane line like a monkey and resting at the far wall to make up the difference in time. This was less skill-intensive, but much more relaxing. Swimming backwards takes thought! You try it sometime, and you'll see what I mean. It takes coordination. I think I almost have a method for it, though. But everything's backwards, and you can't kick hard, or you won't move, but you can't just not kick, or your feet will sink. Rotation becomes crucial, if only to remind you to do your stroke recovery right.
Hah, I bet this makes hardly any sense. That's okay though; Taper rarely makes sense to anyone but swimmers.
Mwahaha! The guys are going to freeze tomorrow night. *evil cackle*
Monday, January 16, 2006
Taper!
Taper taper taper taper atper taoer taer taper taper taperrepat! I love taper. When you can get 30-40 people together, grinning from ear to ear and hyper as squirrels while marinating in chlorine at 6:00 in the morning, you know you have reached Taper, those few precious weeks when 'work' falls out of your swimming vocabulary, and the coach is forced to yell at you to get you to shut up, instead of to swim harder.
If Taper weren't enough, we did a Preference pre-date thing today. We were going to use Region as our day-date, but since the MV girls we have coming with us won't be at Region and don't know their dates as well, a pre-date was requested. Shortly after practice this morning, we got together and had breakfast (there was one non-swimmer there, and he was dead, while we had been awake for three hours). We had pancakes, waffles, bacon, and eggs. But that wasn't the best part. The best part came after breakfast.
After eating breakfast, we went to the greyhound's church (I'm sure some other folks know which one I'm talking about, provided you know who the greyhound is) and played games in the gym. I brought soccer socks, not quite knowing why I was told to do so (I only had 14 pair, as my ickle brudders wore some of them skiing). The greyhound had these funky rocket things with foam tips that we shot each other with and we played a few other things with them. We did this with the soccer socks on, resulting in much tumult.
Following our rampage with the foam rockets, the greyhound produced a big plush die. With it, we played soccer, using those random pads at the ends of the basketball court as the goals. The greyhound made the teams, and she made the team opposing her highly unfair. But that's okay, 'cause I was on it! There was much mutilation in the game, and we all came out of it bruised and sore, but having had much fun (I can't talk right today). We had just done the very sort of thing our coach tells us not to. I quote:
"When we get around to taper, you all have so much energy, 'cause you're used to being dead. Now, this is what we want, but you guys always get stupid and go play contact sports and get hurt. DON'T DO IT!"
Heh heh. If we can't swim come tomorrow, we're all dead meat. And yet I'm so happy. ;D
If Taper weren't enough, we did a Preference pre-date thing today. We were going to use Region as our day-date, but since the MV girls we have coming with us won't be at Region and don't know their dates as well, a pre-date was requested. Shortly after practice this morning, we got together and had breakfast (there was one non-swimmer there, and he was dead, while we had been awake for three hours). We had pancakes, waffles, bacon, and eggs. But that wasn't the best part. The best part came after breakfast.
After eating breakfast, we went to the greyhound's church (I'm sure some other folks know which one I'm talking about, provided you know who the greyhound is) and played games in the gym. I brought soccer socks, not quite knowing why I was told to do so (I only had 14 pair, as my ickle brudders wore some of them skiing). The greyhound had these funky rocket things with foam tips that we shot each other with and we played a few other things with them. We did this with the soccer socks on, resulting in much tumult.
Following our rampage with the foam rockets, the greyhound produced a big plush die. With it, we played soccer, using those random pads at the ends of the basketball court as the goals. The greyhound made the teams, and she made the team opposing her highly unfair. But that's okay, 'cause I was on it! There was much mutilation in the game, and we all came out of it bruised and sore, but having had much fun (I can't talk right today). We had just done the very sort of thing our coach tells us not to. I quote:
"When we get around to taper, you all have so much energy, 'cause you're used to being dead. Now, this is what we want, but you guys always get stupid and go play contact sports and get hurt. DON'T DO IT!"
Heh heh. If we can't swim come tomorrow, we're all dead meat. And yet I'm so happy. ;D
Friday, December 23, 2005
12 Days of Swimming
Written and choreographed by Danny M.
Performed and sung by the OTAC Senior Swim Choir
On the first day of practice my swim coach gave to me:
A 1x200 free
On the second day of practice my swim coach gave to me:
2x50 drill, and a 1x200 free
On the third day of practice my swim coach gave to me:
3x75, 2x50 drill, and a 1x200 free
On the fourth day of practice my swim coach gave to me:
4x25 sprint, 3x75, 2x50 drill, and a 1x200 free
On the fifth day of practice my swim coach gave to me:
5x100 IM, 4x25 sprint, 3x75, 2x50 drill, and a 1x200 free
On the sixth day of practice my swim coach gave to me:
6x50 free, 5x100 IM, 4x25 sprint, 3x75, 2x50 drill, and a 1x200 free
On the seventh day of practice my swim coach gave to me:
7x100 sprint, 5x100 IM, 4x25 sprint, 3x75, 2x50 drill, and a 1x200 free
On the eighth day of practice my swim coach gave to me:
8x25 sprint, 7x100 sprint, 5x100 IM, 4x25 sprint, 3x75, 2x50 drill, and a 1x200 free
On the ninth day of practice my swim coach gave to me:
9x50 kick, 8x25 sprint, 7x100 sprint, 5x100 IM, 4x25 sprint, 3x75, 2x50 drill, and a 1x200 free
On the tenth day of practice my swim coach gave to me:
10x25 sprint, 9x50 kick, 8x25 sprint, 7x100 sprint, 5x100 IM, 4x25 sprint, 3x75, 2x50 drill, and a 1x200 free
On the eleventh day of practice my swim coach gave to me:
11x50 IM, 10x25 sprint, 9x50 kick, 8x25 sprint, 7x100 sprint, 5x100 IM, 4x25 sprint, 3x75, 2x50 drill, and a 1x200 free
On the twelveth day of practice my swim coach gave to me:
12x25 EZ, 11x50 IM, 10x25 sprint, 9x50 kick, 8x25 sprint, 7x100 sprint, 5x100 IM, 4x25 sprint, 3x75, 2x50 drill, and a 1x200 free!
Review: The echoing on the pool deck added to the resonating and stirring effect of sick swimmers' voices. The technique of the swimming was elegant, if not synchronized (though one hears that OTAC has synchronized productions as well). This once-a-year experience is a glorious addition to any Christmas tradition.
Performed and sung by the OTAC Senior Swim Choir
On the first day of practice my swim coach gave to me:
A 1x200 free
On the second day of practice my swim coach gave to me:
2x50 drill, and a 1x200 free
On the third day of practice my swim coach gave to me:
3x75, 2x50 drill, and a 1x200 free
On the fourth day of practice my swim coach gave to me:
4x25 sprint, 3x75, 2x50 drill, and a 1x200 free
On the fifth day of practice my swim coach gave to me:
5x100 IM, 4x25 sprint, 3x75, 2x50 drill, and a 1x200 free
On the sixth day of practice my swim coach gave to me:
6x50 free, 5x100 IM, 4x25 sprint, 3x75, 2x50 drill, and a 1x200 free
On the seventh day of practice my swim coach gave to me:
7x100 sprint, 5x100 IM, 4x25 sprint, 3x75, 2x50 drill, and a 1x200 free
On the eighth day of practice my swim coach gave to me:
8x25 sprint, 7x100 sprint, 5x100 IM, 4x25 sprint, 3x75, 2x50 drill, and a 1x200 free
On the ninth day of practice my swim coach gave to me:
9x50 kick, 8x25 sprint, 7x100 sprint, 5x100 IM, 4x25 sprint, 3x75, 2x50 drill, and a 1x200 free
On the tenth day of practice my swim coach gave to me:
10x25 sprint, 9x50 kick, 8x25 sprint, 7x100 sprint, 5x100 IM, 4x25 sprint, 3x75, 2x50 drill, and a 1x200 free
On the eleventh day of practice my swim coach gave to me:
11x50 IM, 10x25 sprint, 9x50 kick, 8x25 sprint, 7x100 sprint, 5x100 IM, 4x25 sprint, 3x75, 2x50 drill, and a 1x200 free
On the twelveth day of practice my swim coach gave to me:
12x25 EZ, 11x50 IM, 10x25 sprint, 9x50 kick, 8x25 sprint, 7x100 sprint, 5x100 IM, 4x25 sprint, 3x75, 2x50 drill, and a 1x200 free!
Review: The echoing on the pool deck added to the resonating and stirring effect of sick swimmers' voices. The technique of the swimming was elegant, if not synchronized (though one hears that OTAC has synchronized productions as well). This once-a-year experience is a glorious addition to any Christmas tradition.
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Meet Review 9
Today was wacky. I'm going through separation anxiety with my events. I swam the 200 medley relay, 200 freestyle, 100 back, and 400 free relay. The first wasn't bad, though I didn't do incredibly well. The second, I haven't swam since my freshman year and I can't remember how to pace it. So, I go to the all-knowing Toddles for instruction. "Stay with the pack for the first 50, then go 80-90% for the next two, then go all out comin' home." Sound advice, if everyone wasn't in events they didn't swim. Staying with the pack didn't make sense, because "the pack" was slower than I was (I wasn't seeded with a time because I haven't swam it in so long). So I had to try to guess at my pace, then I hit the beginning of the second 50 and the coaches were gesturing wildly from the deck. This puzzled me; everyone was a bodylength or more behind me. I sped up on the third fifty, and still they were frantic, almost like it was a close race. I sped up a little more, just to please them. The last 50 was, of course, an all-out sprint. Coming into the wall, I see that I took second place by a tenth of a second. I shoot my glance down to lane five, and much to my surprise, I see another girl, the flamingo, also very out of place. Apparently she noticed me when she came off the last wall and sped up.
I cannot remember the last time I swam the 100 backstroke. I think I was 12 or something, 'cause it was a long time ago. I hate the backstroke. I can't breathe when I swim backstroke. I asked Coach why he had to pick the backstroke and his only answer was that I hadn't swam it yet. I did fairly well for my circumstances, and when I got out he laughed at me and said, "You let them win one; that was nice of you." [The team we swam against was really bad, just so you know.]
The 400 free relay was supposedly even (i.e. he put the speed on the team evenly across the three teams). I disagree, but it still gave me motivation to go fast. I went the time that I haven't touched since the Blue & Gold. Good stuff.
200 medly relay (fly) - 34
200 freestyle - 2:20.44
100 backstroke - 1:17.86
400 free relay - 1:04.64
I cannot remember the last time I swam the 100 backstroke. I think I was 12 or something, 'cause it was a long time ago. I hate the backstroke. I can't breathe when I swim backstroke. I asked Coach why he had to pick the backstroke and his only answer was that I hadn't swam it yet. I did fairly well for my circumstances, and when I got out he laughed at me and said, "You let them win one; that was nice of you." [The team we swam against was really bad, just so you know.]
The 400 free relay was supposedly even (i.e. he put the speed on the team evenly across the three teams). I disagree, but it still gave me motivation to go fast. I went the time that I haven't touched since the Blue & Gold. Good stuff.
200 medly relay (fly) - 34
200 freestyle - 2:20.44
100 backstroke - 1:17.86
400 free relay - 1:04.64
Saturday, December 17, 2005
Meet Review 8
It's a little late (clever, clever rhymage). The meet against TvHS was...interesting. Their girls are the top in state at the moment, but they don't even have enough guys team members to fill up the relay spots (meaning they have five). Also, this meet has been dubbed the Meet of the Neverending Nosebleed. During the winter my nose gets really dry, and random nosebleeds occur all too frequently for my taste. This meet was actually the first one I've had in the water, which is lucky.
A 400 into warm-up (i.e. not very long into it) my nose started bleeding horrendously. I had to stop and make it look like my nose wasn't bleeding, 'cause even though there is plenty of chlorine to kill anything that's in my blood, you're still not supposed to be in the water while bleeding (understandable). So I stood at the wall, sniffling and hyperventilating to try to keep the blood inside of me. Generally these liquid-induced nosebleeds go away in 5-10 minutes, give or take. But I didn't get to warm up any more during the half-hour interval! Luckily, I wasn't swimming the first relay, so I had that time to get blood clots going and warm up. But my nose had other ideas.
IT KEPT BLEEDING UNTIL HALFWAY THROUGH THE MEET! That means that I didn't warm up before the IM. That also means that I was bleeding during the IM, but the officials didn't stop me because if they would have stopped me, the would have had to stop everybody else as well. I added six second.
Then my nose stopped its rampage during the ten-minute break between the 50 free and the 100 fly (I didn't swim the fly in this meet; that is the first time in high school swimming that has happened). Coming up on the 500 freestyle, I was warmed up and ready. I didn't drop any time, but I matched the one I posted last Thursday. But the team feels like crap; I beat our fastest 500 freestyler by eight seconds. That wasn't supposed to happen, obviously.
The relays were dumb. I had been randomly losing circulation to my hands all meet, and right before the relays it came to a head and I couldn't really control my hands any more. It was stupid. On the 400 free relay, my legs went numb too, so I think I looked like I was flopping around rather than swimming. I didn't do so hot in either race.
200 IM - 2:39
500 free - 6:18.97
Relays - don't ask
A 400 into warm-up (i.e. not very long into it) my nose started bleeding horrendously. I had to stop and make it look like my nose wasn't bleeding, 'cause even though there is plenty of chlorine to kill anything that's in my blood, you're still not supposed to be in the water while bleeding (understandable). So I stood at the wall, sniffling and hyperventilating to try to keep the blood inside of me. Generally these liquid-induced nosebleeds go away in 5-10 minutes, give or take. But I didn't get to warm up any more during the half-hour interval! Luckily, I wasn't swimming the first relay, so I had that time to get blood clots going and warm up. But my nose had other ideas.
IT KEPT BLEEDING UNTIL HALFWAY THROUGH THE MEET! That means that I didn't warm up before the IM. That also means that I was bleeding during the IM, but the officials didn't stop me because if they would have stopped me, the would have had to stop everybody else as well. I added six second.
Then my nose stopped its rampage during the ten-minute break between the 50 free and the 100 fly (I didn't swim the fly in this meet; that is the first time in high school swimming that has happened). Coming up on the 500 freestyle, I was warmed up and ready. I didn't drop any time, but I matched the one I posted last Thursday. But the team feels like crap; I beat our fastest 500 freestyler by eight seconds. That wasn't supposed to happen, obviously.
The relays were dumb. I had been randomly losing circulation to my hands all meet, and right before the relays it came to a head and I couldn't really control my hands any more. It was stupid. On the 400 free relay, my legs went numb too, so I think I looked like I was flopping around rather than swimming. I didn't do so hot in either race.
200 IM - 2:39
500 free - 6:18.97
Relays - don't ask
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