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Learning
to Coach the TI Way:
Lessons from my Swimming Days
By
Joe Novak
“The yardage intensive workouts I’d
been doing since adolescence often felt as
if they were designed mainly to get us tired.
When I began practicing the TI way, races
felt entirely different – my body
only knew how to stroke efficiently.”
In 1996, while I was a member of the varsity
swim team at West Point, Terry Laughlin joined
our coaching staff and his unconventional
style of coaching changed my swimming dramatically.
Over the next three years I improved to swim
faster than I ever dreamed possible. Today
those experiences continue to influence my
life and career path.
Ray Bosse, our Head Coach, had invited
Terry to join the coaching staff. (I
understand Terry recently returned the
favor, inviting
Ray to join the Hawks coaching staff.)
Terry
agreed, but with one unusual request:
he asked to coach the “most underperforming” group
on the team, seeking the sternest test of
his technique-intensive coaching method.
Fortunately for me, that group happened to
be the sprinters…where I was, at the
time, in the forefront of those “underperforming.” Not
through any lack of effort; for as long as
I could remember, I had faithfully pushed
myself – going hard from the beginning
of practice until I ran out of gas. Ditto
in races. And in too many of those races,
the needle on my fuel tank hit “E” too
soon.
I grew up in the swimming hotbed of St.
Petersburg, Florida; naturally swimming
became a part
of my life from early on. I swam on powerful
teams with high-level swimmers, doing
workouts typical of other age group teams – yardage
intensive, long sets then longer sets,
many with buoys and kickboards. Not possessing
the natural strength of some of my peers,
I was always a middle of the pack swimmer.
My first year at West Point, workouts
were as challenging as those back home,
but
with all the extra requirements of the
academy,
I felt overwhelmed. Not only did I not
win a single race plebe (freshman) year,
but
I was never fast enough to make any of
Army’s “A” relays.
My shaved and tapered time in the 100
Free at our conference championship was
slower
than I had gone four years earlier as
a freshman in high school.
Fast forward to the beginning of my soph
season and meeting Terry. He started
us off with drills that seemed so elementary
that,
initially, some of my teammates were
skeptical
of their value, making comments like: “I’ve
been swimming my whole life; I don’t
need this stuff.” Personally, I was
ready for a change. I applied myself wholeheartedly
to the drills, and found they weren’t
so simple after all. To do them really well
took all my attention. And no more pull buoys
and kickboards – every set focused
on solving puzzles about how to move
more effectively through the water. Within
weeks,
I was swimming more efficiently than
ever before. However, I wanted to do
more than
look pretty while swimming at the slow
speeds Terry dictated; I wanted to win
the 50- and
100-yard freestyle at the intensely competitive
NCAA Division I level.
Unlearning
what I “knew”
As hard as it was to master the drills,
the bigger challenge was letting go of
most of
what I “knew” about swimming.
I’d heard that the best swimmers take
the fewest strokes per lap, but I had been
swimming since age six, and it was difficult
to see how slowing my stroke rate could possibly
make me faster. But the steady evolution
in my feel for the water – the first
time in all those years that I’d had
a sense of how to work with the water – soon
convinced me that I’d been given a
rare learning opportunity. Up to that point,
I’d always relied on muscle to move
through the water. Learning that I could
gain even more by outsmarting my rivals made
training and racing fun. To say that I, and
my fellow sprinters, improved over the next
three years would be an understatement, but
I also developed a love for swimming which
has lured me into coaching, after completing
my five year service obligation to the Army.
Now I’m learning how to teach my
swimmers all the lessons I learned while
swimming
for Terry.
Since becoming a coach I’ve been struck
by the degree to which Total Immersion is
misunderstood in the competitive swimming
world. The argument used to be: “TI
works well
for slow swimmers like triathletes
and fitness swimmers, but cannot make competitive
swimmers fast.” The dramatic improvement
of virtually everyone Terry coached quickly
proved otherwise. But lately I hear a new
criticism – that TI-trained swimmers
may be able to swim fast during the season,
but won’t experience the big drop
in time typically seen at the end of
the season
by teams that train with higher yardage
and intensity.
My experience with Terry’s technique-intensive
practices was of seeing gradual, but
steady, improvement throughout the season,
followed
by remarkable improvement at the end
of the season. My second season with
Terry,
I won
every race I swam in my specialties.
During dual meets I won by comfortable
margins.
At the championships I won by even larger
margins.
Here are the reasons I believe I had so much
improvement during taper:
- “TI” practices
may involve less yardage but that doesn’t
mean they’re easy. They’re exacting – taxing
your brain as much as your aerobic
system. I never finished one of Terry’s
practices thinking: “That was an
easy workout.”
- The
yardage intensive workouts I’d
been doing since adolescence
often felt as if they were designed mainly
to get us tired.
And when I inevitably did get
tired,
then I was just training to survive
the workout – too
often imprinting poor form. So
it was no surprise that – despite
all that conditioning – when
I got tired in the latter stages
of a race, my body did exactly what
I had trained it
to do: lose efficiency. When
I began practicing the
TI way, races felt entirely different – my
body only knew how to stroke
efficiently. I experienced fatigue
far later
in the race. And when I did,
my neuromuscular system was
so thoroughly trained that in
the last 10 to 15 yards of a
100 Free
or Fly, when everyone
was getting ragged and losing
speed, I’d
be pulling away, still stroking
effectively.
- Pre-TI
workouts were focused on getting in shape.
In shape
for what?
Well mostly
to survive grueling workouts,
but not to race at my best.
In
contrast, every
set
that Terry gave us focused
on the skills that
win races (i.e. underwater
dolphin kicks, starts, turns, swimming
fast with long
smooth strokes). And “conditioning
happened” as
we tirelessly rehearsed race-winning
skills.
- This
combination of focused physical and mental
preparation
was powerful.
I went from
hoping I’d
swim fast to knowing I
was prepared to swim fast,
because
of how
exhaustively
we worked at every aspect
of doing so, and because
of the
consistently fast
times I
had produced throughout the
season. The confidence and
assurance that brought
was transforming
for me.
My
sense is that most of those who resist
or criticize
the
TI approach
are mainly afraid
of change. Here are the
things I now understand about coaching
my swimmers
as Terry coached
me:
- I
have to be endlessly curious. There’s
a lot to learn
about swimming properly and
how to teach it.
The more I learn,
the more
I realize how little
I understand.
- I
have to be comfortable with risk.
When the focus is yardage
it’s easier
to explain poor
results on an
unwillingness
to work hard.
When a coach
takes on
the task
of shaping someone’s
technique, they
assume more responsibility
for the
results.
- I
must practice and
teach patience
and discipline.
Ingrained habits
don’t
change overnight.
- I
must bring
a clear race-related
focus
and purpose
to each set.
In
many ways
it’s
far easier
to get swimmers
to work hard,
than it is
to get them
in the habit
of constant
attention to
detail.
TI Training:
Not just drills; “effective” swimming
Certainly most coaches and swimmers
have experienced
where working harder or longer
brought
improvement. While this method has
proven
it can be successful,
just
as clearly
there’s a limit to what you can do
in yardage or intensity. I’ve yet
to see a ceiling on how much a swimmer
can improve
their execution or awareness.
While TI
is often
misunderstood
as, “just
doing drills all the time,” my personal
experiences led me to define
TI training
this way: First, learn how
to swim properly.
Then, systematically increase the distance
and speed at which you can swim with your
best form. At West Point, we did do drills
every day. But more importantly, on every
set, Terry required that we swim effectively.
And his standards were far tougher than the
most grueling aerobic training. I can’t
count the number of sets that he made us
do over because we fell short of the attention
or discipline he felt we were capable of.
But just as often, if he saw that he’d
given us a task we could not execute well,
he’d stop us and adjust it so we
could. Bottom line, when it was time
to race, our
bodies were programmed to swim the right
way.
Now that
I’m coaching, I understand
why Terry always seemed to be enjoying himself
so thoroughly as he coached. The reward of
watching swimmers move through the water
with an unprecedented grace and flow is almost
indescribable. Even more satisfying is the
knowledge that our training process teaches
habits of purposefulness and mindfulness
at the same time it imprints physical skills.
I learned so many life-enhancing self-mastery
skills during Terry’s practices that
I want my swimmers to acquire the same skills
and habits. And, as a dividend, I’m
fully confident they’ll swim faster
than they ever dreamed possible.
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