In Lake Placid, after watching the swim portion of the Ironman, I ducked in to some stores with my sister and tried on one-piece bathing suits. I probably hadn't worn a one-piece suit for about 12 years, either. I didn't know what size I even was, but I discovered that I am a size 32. I'm not going to try and pretend I understand how they size these suits.
I have no idea what good criteria are for these suits, but for the most part, I don't think "cute" is on the list. I liked the way the TYR suits fit, but all the suits they had in stock in my size had patterns that resembled an old person's wallpaper. No thanks.
I went to the town pool, which is olympic-sized, and tried out some laps. I was absolutely terrible. I thought I could just get in the water and imitate a free-style stroke. After all, I was in decent shape from running, how hard could it be? I was so, so wrong. Trying to breathe, I was inhaling water, and having no breath made my muscles feel like lead. I couldn't even go 50 meters without having to stop and pant for a while.
I decided to ask F, the triathlon coach my sister put me in touch with, if she knew of any good, local places that taught swim lessons for adults. I'm sure I could have found some sort of class at the YMCA, but I didn't want to take lessons with 5-year-olds that frequently close the pool by pooping in it.
Luckily, F's swim coach, whom I will call "B", is still in the area, and still offers to teach lessons at the school where she is a swim coach. I contacted her and set up a session. The only drawback was that B could only offer lessons between 5:30 and 8:00 in the morning. Yikes! I scheduled for 6:30 am and prayed I didn't oversleep.
I showed up for my first swim lesson with huge butterflies in my stomach. The night before, I had a dream that I got in the pool, and B told me I was so bad that she couldn't even waste her time teaching me. I was hoping that wasn't the case in reality!
I have to give B points for being honest, and blunt. The first thing she asked me to do was one lap, using what I "thought" was a freestyle stroke. I was gasping for breath by the end of the first length, but I didn't want to embarrass myself, so I forced myself back to the other end of the lane, where B was waiting for me. When I de-fogged my goggles, it seemed like B was trying hard not to laugh. She said something like, "OK. OK, that was...we need to do some work." So it wasn't AS bad as my dream, but close enough.
In fact, I was so bad, that B had me revert to using a pool noodle for my first drill. Before I could learn to do my strokes, I had to learn how to carry my body through the water. I never understood how much coordination goes in to swimming!
After I got my body positioned in relatively the correct way using the noodle (which took a good 20 minutes) B explained the technicalities of breathing to me. The most important thing is to remember not to lift your head when you breathe; you simply turn your head to the side. After a few lengths attempting this technique, I had swallowed approximately half of the pool.
I have to give B more points here, for being patient. She had to keep explaining things and repeating herself, which must have been really frustrating. For me, it seemed like there was so much to think about! Keep your head down, push the water up and over your hip with your arm, wait for one arm to come back to the front before you stroke with the other...and on and on and on. I was quickly realizing that swimming required something I didn't have a whole lot of...coordination! Who knew?
At the end of the hour-long session, B told me that I had made at least some progress. We both agreed that I definitely needed another lesson...or ten.
The day after the first lesson, my lower back and butt were so sore I was hobbling. I knew the whole swim part was going to be hard, but I seriously miscalculated how horribly hard it would be.
I can't even swim 50 meters without feeling like my lungs might burst and I will drown. How am I ever, ever going to swim 2.4 miles!?!?
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