It was about nine o’clock one night close to last Christmas and all four boys were running circles around each other in the living room. Through all the chaos that night I brainstormed, “How can I wear these guys out?” Swim… not swim lessons or swimming for fun… competitive swim. Isn’t that why Michael Phelps mom brought him to swim? If it could work for one over energized boy, why not four? Unfortunately, it was in the middle of a rare South Florida cold snap, but I was determined for my own sanity so we packed up and showed up at the pool for our first practice. It was 42 degrees.
The coaches were quite impressed when my little polar bears jumped right in without hesitation. Lacking stamina and skill and grace, they paddled their way to the pool edge. That night, they all fell asleep on the way home. I was hooked.
Gavin and Tommy started in the same class and since then, Gavin has moved up to a more advanced group and Tommy has become the leader (self proclaimed, but none the less) of the beginners. We went from practicing an hour four three nights per week to practicing 1 1/2 hours five nights a week. This is challenging on the schedule and dinner menu but therapeutic on my mental status.
When Tommy showed signs of being hesitant one night I asked the advice of another parent. His rule of thumb was, you have no choice but to practice, you can however decide if you want to swim in the meets. You don’t have to compete if you don’t want to. This worked quite well. It didn’t take long for Gavin to decide he loved swim and couldn’t wait to compete. Tommy however, could take of leave practice and was determined he never wanted to compete.
A few months in, Tommy’s coach pulled me aside and questioned Tommy’s motivation to swim. She could tell he won't thrilled about jumping into the pool each night and suggested signing him up for a meet. “It’s like making your kid go to soccer practice for a months but never allowing them to play a game. What are they practicing for?” I proposed the idea to Tommy who was still hesitant and then signed him up anyway. His coaches assured me it would be a wonderful experience and that he would have a new attitude at practice if he understood what he was working for. They promised me we would leave with ribbons and smiles on our faces. They were so right.
Last Saturday was our first meet. Scott is working Saturdays now so it was me and all four little men and about 400 of my closest swim friends. We packed a cooler and about 20 Gatorades and towels and goggles and back up goggles and jammers and sunscreen and toys.
The coaches had chosen their events ahead of time. Swim moms mark the events down on the forearms of their little swimmers in hopes of keeping everyone organized. Gavin missed one of his heats and had to swim by himself in an add on meet.
Tommy had one really cute false start. He jumped on the whistle instead of waiting for the buzzer. Tommy didn’t seem to notice that no one else jumped in or that he was only racing himself across the pool or that the entire coaching staff and audience was yelling at him to stop. Nope, Tommy was unstoppable. He raced to the other side of the pool and then, even though it was only a 25 meter race, he turned around, still ignoring the yelling and started to swim back. He would not stop until a coach actually jumped in the water, and plucked him up and out of the water. Tommy was returned to the rest of the swimmers on the deck and allowed to try again. Unfortunately, his time doubled and he came in sixth. He would have come in first if they would have used his false start time. Live and learn I guess.
No life guards were on duty, and their equipment was even turned into makeshift clotheslines. But I suppose with 20 Swim coaches, several junior Olympic swimmers and an audience full of former swimmers, it really wasn’t necessary.
I was proud. We came and we conquered. Our goal was to swim each of our events, do the correct stroke and make it to the other end of the pool. Goal accomplished. The boys’ coaches were proud and I was thrilled, exhausted, but thrilled. We sat in the scorching sun for four and a half hours. Four and a half hours of chasing sticky hot little boys, pouring over heat sheets, worrying about missing heats, yelling last minute pointers to my nervous boys on deck and praying that this would be a happy experience for these guys. I totaled up the time that the boys were actually in the water. It was less than eight minutes for the combination of the two of them. I guess that’s what they mean by dedication. All of the boys fell asleep on the way home form the swim meet. It reminded me of that very first swim practice. I drove home smiling. Partially because I love nothing more than four sleeping boys and partially because I was picturing the swim coach swimming after Tommy.
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