There are three secrets to becoming a swimmer when you're not.
I spend two hours a week in an instructed swimming class. Some people find that this a lot, some people aren't a big deal.
When class began a few months ago, I had a really big problem coughing problem. My coughing at the end of the pool had some concerned. Just about every 25 yards, I would stop to cough. Many in the class didn't talk about it. I thought nobody really noticed until one when a classmate patted me on the back at the end, "You're not coughing as much as you used to." She smiles and nods.
During a math class in the 7th grade, Mr. Miller allowed us to work alone on a packet of papers. Though it was typically a quiet scenario, he let some work in groups. Soon after this assignment, the working groups started getting louder and louder. I wasn't part of any of the groups since I was happy to work alone. The volume of the classroom was building and I felt comfortable singing to myself while I worked.
Knowing lyrics to George Thorogood songs was part of my musical landscape at the age of 12 or 13. I sang, "I ain't seen my baby since I don't know when. Gotta get high, man. Gotta get bent. I want one bourbon, one scotch, one beer..."
One other guy who was working alone overheard me. In his case, he was working alone and not at all while he crossed his arms at his desk. He leapt out of his angry pose, "Hey, do you know that song?"
"Yea."
"I love that song, man. I WANT ONE BOURBON, ONE SCOTCH, ONE BEEEEEEEER. Yea." He smiled and nodded.
He walked up to Mr. Miller's desk with his homework packet, camouflaged as a curious student, "Hey, Mr. Miller, what do you get when you mix one bourbon, one scotch and one beer?"
Mr. Miller is stunned for a moment and turns the ingredients into a question again. He finds a quick answer for him, "Sick. Get back to work at your desk."
I watched him walk back to his desk while he smiled and sang the song a bit more.
On Monday, I was in swimming performing drills printed on a sheet of paper and place in a plastic baggie at the deep of the pool. As I tried to finish one drill where I was told to keep your hands by your side and roll left to right to left and so on, I took in more chlorinated water than ever before. It didn't really bother me too much until I started feeling nausea. I stopped and the instructor had to perform the duty he had performed so many times before to me, "Are you ok?"
"I'm ok. I'm feeling a little sick."
"Just get out and try to let it pass," he continues instructing the 16 or 17 other swimmers.
As soon as he turns away from me, I make a straight line to the locker rooms and throw up. The gatorade I drank before class turned from acidic to highly acidic. It went from going down my throat to out my mouth and nose.
I groaned and paused. Shuffle over to the sink. I draw some water and splash it on my face even if I'm still completely drenched from swimming. I cup my hands and try to drink some cold water. I spit it out. I drink from the cupped hands over and over again. I keep spitting it out. OK. Now I'm ready to get out there again.
I stop the instructor, "I just threw up. Do you think it's a good idea to get back in?"
"If you're feeling ok, I think it would be ok. Just stay here until you're sure."
I waited for a few minutes and kept watching my lane partners continuing with the workout. I had to at least give it a shot.
I got back in and started swimming with no hands, rolling side to side. I just barely got to the other side of the pool. I took a moment to breathe and started back to the other side. I got out of the pool.
I walked straight to the locker room and threw up again. By that point, I needed to get dressed and get out of there.
Those three things work for swimming as separate entities but I wonder if they make you sick if you combine them together. Sorta like bourbon, scotch and beer. You gotta take one thing at a time.
