Weekend Checklist

Vacuum...check

Play play-doh...check

Change sheets on beds...check

Play Barbies...check

Wash, dry, fold, put away laundry for four...check

Admire sticker creations by talented five-year-old...check

Wash kitchen floor...check

Play infinity-plus-one games of tic-tac-toe...check

Plan menu for upcoming week...check

Get creamed by my grandmother at Words With Friends...check

Grocery shop...check

Build impenetrable wall to keep out monsters using giant foam blocks...check

...and... 

Qualify for World Masters Swimming Championships...CHECK!

You may recall that in my triathlon post, I mentioned that I recently joined a Master’s Swim Team. The goal was to improve my swimming enough to eliminate risk of drowning during said triathlon. During one of these swims, a man approached me and asked if I planned to swim with the team next year. I smiled and politely informed him that that was really dependent upon the eventuality of the underworld sprouting ice. (Using different words, of course.) He persisted, saying that he really wanted me on the team (turns out he was the coach). He THEN went on to say that I would probably be fast enough to go to the World Championships. My inner monologue at the time went a little something like this: “Oh my God, run. This guy is clearly insane. If I avert my eyes and back away slowly maybe he won’t notice my retreat.” Eyes averted, I had started to put my plan into action when he spoke up again. My internal conversation must have played out over my face because he said “No, really, I mean it. You should go look at the qualifying times on the wall over there.”

Hmm, not insane enough to miss facial expressions, I see. I did just get a new suit. Maybe it is my new suit. He pointed, and I obediently meandered over to the wall, keeping one eye on the crazy person...who knew what his next move might be. The list was there, as promised, and as I perused the times, his insanity seemed just a little bit less pronounced. These times weren’t that bad. In a previous lifetime, I had been that fast and then some. I looked down at my suit, slightly disappointed – guess it wasn’t so great after all. On the plus side, NEW GOAL!

I returned to the coach, chastened. “Yeah, that seems pretty do-able.” Enthusiasm started to leak into my words and he must have been afraid he had been overly enthusiastic himself as he hastened to bring me back down to earth. “Well, you won’t win or anything, but you could at least go for the experience.” Gee, thanks.

And so began my journey to the World Masters Swimming Championships. I have been swimming three times a week, and going to spin and yoga once a week as well for some extra conditioning. The trickiest part is scheduling these things after bedtimes so that I still get to spend as much time with the fam as possible. I manage it for the most part, but Wednesdays are extra busy and unfortunately Tootie has her gymnastics that day as well. Lucky for me, I have an awesome husband and in-laws who help out in so many ways.

This weekend was my first opportunity to swim in a Masters meet and make those not-so-far-fetched qualifying times. As luck would have it, it was also the first snow storm of the year. My usual one-hour drive into the city took me a knuckle-whitening two hours instead. I passed a total of twelve motor-vehicle collisions. By the time I arrived at the pool, I was too late for any warm-up whatsoever and I had decided that I was either super dedicated to this experience or incredibly stupid.

I burst out onto the pool deck in a flurry of flip-flops, towels and goggles. Only to discover it completely empty. All the swimmers and their families were seated quietly in the stands, listening to a man located directly in front of me who was outlining the rules and expectations of the meet. Awesome. Way to make an entrance. I looked around frantically to locate a team member or something that would give me an indication of exactly which direction I should try to slink. One of my team-mates finally took pity on me and waved. I waggled my fingers, eyebrows raised, and stealthily made my way to join my team. As stealthily as one can with one’s arms full of clothing, towels, water bottles and various other swimming paraphernalia. The announcer graciously pretended not to notice my late arrival and didn’t skip a beat as he droned on about heats, prizes and false-starts.

Masters swim meets run differently than the meets that I remember from the days of yore. Men and women of all ages race against each other. The seeding of heats is based on time alone. This is how I found myself on the block with a giant monster of a man in the lane next to me. Wowza, there must be some kind of mistake. I’m pretty sure he simply needed to twitch those muscles to propel himself to the end of the pool before I could even come up for air off my dive. Holy intimidating, bat-man. In the end, I gave the Hulk a pretty good run for his money despite gulping down gallons of water that splashed off of his huge body.

Speaking of intimidating... before my last race of the day, I found myself hanging out behind the blocks, awaiting my turn, with a bunch of really athletic looking swimmers. I glanced from side to side, taking it all in, when I noticed the Olympic rings tattooed onto the hip of the woman beside me. Ooookay. Maybe it was purely decorative. Me being me, I decided to ask. “Hi.” I said. (Great opener) “I can’t help but notice your Olympic rings tattoo. Did you go to the Olympics for...” I flopped my hand around, encompassing the scene “...you know, swimming?” Duh, nice one. “Yeah”, she says smiling, probably at my dim-witted-ness. “But in ‘96” she adds. Cause that makes a difference. Like somehow that is LESS impressive? Her answer pings off a lightbulb in my head though. I actually know a swimming Olympian from the ’96 Games! She was from my hometown, and we had swum together for several years, sharing a pool and a coach much to the awe of myself and entire team. So I asked ”Do you know Speed Demon? I used to swim with her.” The woman looked at me with a bit more interest now. “Why, yes, I know Speed Demon well! We’re great friends, although I haven’t seen her in years.” She runs her appraising eyes over me, assessing me as her competitor and it is then that I realize my mistake. “Oh, we just swam in the same pool, not the same lane or anything. We weren’t in the same league or anything”. Crap. Now she thinks I’m being modest. I’m not being modest. I’m trying to save face for when this ex-Olympian leaves me in her wake. And she did just that. But really, I didn’t mind.

I walked away from the day with two first place finishes, a second and a third place finishes in my age category. Oh, and having met the World’s qualifying times in two out of my four events of the day. The other two were not far off, and I now believe that I may be able to do them in the next few months.

My times:

50 free 33.3s (Qualifying time is 33.5)

50 breast 43.7 (Qualifying time is 44.0)

100 free 1:15.03 (Qualifying time 1:15.0)

50 fly 37.2 (Qualifying time 36.5)