Trim Tram Donovan

Cold Water

Unfortunately, I've let my swimming lapse a bit. Like a week and a half lapse. I'll have to get back on the horse here soon.

I biked the Ironman loop on Saturday with Killebrew, followed by a short run. Wind and cold made it difficult to finish. A welcome stop in Cross Plains made the bike ride enjoyable.

The night before, I sent Killebrew a text message after two beers, "bring your wet suit and lets [sic] see what the waters [sic] like at firemans park [sic]". I believe he replied something like "Your [sic] crazy" or something close to that, then he turned to mention, "I like it".

We returned to the parking lot after our brick workout, we put on our wet suits. It was still a bit windy and cold. Our bodies, though, had worked hard enough that cold water would be a welcome relief. It might have even been that we put on our wet suits because neither of us wanted to back down.

Walking down to the water, I could feel it getting colder. The water was actually emitting cold air. When my feet got into the water, I felt like I was putting them into a glass of ice water. I slowly put myself into the quarry's water while Shawn finished putting his wet suit on. Little by little, I knew that it was not the best idea to swim in this thing. It had to be close to 45-50 degree water.

"Let's just swim across and back," Shawn told me.

"No. You can. I'm getting out after a little while."

"Just over and back."

"No."

"20 Strokes. C'mon."

"No."

Shawn begins swimming across. By the time he made it to the other side, I was beginning to head back. I think I only made it out to the middle of the lake when I decided that my lungs were contracting and breathing way too fast to swim.

I stepped out of the water and I see Shawn look across the water at me. He swims back and hits his watch, "Two and a half minutes."

"Awesome." I shiver.

My open water swim classes started today but there was no way I was going to make it in THAT water THIS morning. I'm getting the chills just thinking about it.

One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer

There are three secrets to becoming a swimmer when you're not.

1. Put your face back in the water.

2. Keep making your swim challenging.

3. Try and have fun.

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.

Demotion

Don't even try to say, "No, it's cool." or "So what? At least you're out there." I don't want to hear it any more than you [the reader] do. Demotion is something that happens and I know it. I can be angry about it.

I've been moved from the second lane back to the first lane. I, lovingly, call it the "Short Bus Lane" and Stephanie cackles when I say that. She drives me home and I tell her my exploits in my lane (because she is so far ahead) and she laughs in this cackle (that I actually enjoy). 

The trainer/coach Jerry keeps telling me, "You'll get it. You'll get it."

At one moment, I caught myself saying newbie stuff to Jerry. I get caught up in the attention he gives me and I make comments like, "This isn't easy!" I added those idiot comments up and noticed that it exceeded my idiot remark limit (for the record: 3).

After the long warm up, he moved me over to the first lane before I could start the workout. The drills are printed on a lightweight white paper that's made wet and placed on an orange cone that's placed on the deep end of the pool. I read this:

400 warm up

4x (2x25 Board Swim and 4x25 free)

4x (2x25 sculling and 4x25 free)

400 warm down

"I don't want you to have undue pressure," Jerry explained. He switched me with another guy and I moved to the first lane. There was only one other guy in the first lane. And that other guy was simply swimming with flippers.

My workout, it turned out, was exclusively the first set of workout since it filled the hour. In the second set (4x (2x25 Board Swim and 4x25 free), the swimmer had to place the kickboard under the torso and lightly kick. Balancing the board under your core, you should try to integrate the stroke slowly. Balancing this board proved very difficult for me. Since it was so buoyant, it was tough to keep tucked under my body. It would slip up and I would catch it. Then sometimes it got away.

It got to the point where I got so frustrated, I would let myself go so much that it would pop up consistently. Then it started popping up into the next lane. Not only was my workout beginning to lag WAY behind the second lane but my kickboard kept flying into their lane. I would have to retrieve it by swimming under the line and grabbing it while I was treading water. The swimmers would hit the board out of surprise. Each one looked up in shock and saw me.

I was guilty every time and I tried to utter apologies. When it comes to water apologies, it's not always heard.

Maybe the first lane is fine for now.

The Weight

Coach Jerry moved me from the first lane to the second in swim class. Little victories can make a week.

I'm going to Philly. And I'm taking Mindy's advice and getting hungry for 3:15. Fuck the rest. If you have any words of inspiration, please post them and i'll carry them on the race this Sunday.

I'm flying solo with the kids so I have about three minutes to write this.