Swimming Lessons:
From Not Quite Last to Zen
By DIANE SIMMS


The words “natural” and “athlete” have never been combined in a sentence about me. In gym class, I hovered at the edge, one of the last chosen for teams. My first ski lesson involved falling down a bunny slope while my classmates carved snowplow turns. In my first forays at tennis, I spent more time retrieving, than returning, balls. But when I see the beautiful 25-yard pool at my new gym, I am enthralled because I am a fish. I grew up in Hawaii, spent my summers at the beach, splashed for hours at the pool. I love the water.

In my first attempt, I endure six sputtering lengths, pulling myself out of the pool just before the lifeguard is tempted to. I slink back to the Jacuzzi. This is not at all like bodysurfing at Waikiki. This will take some work. But what I lack in athletic ability, I make up for with tenacity. I keep returning, increasing from six to 10 lengths, still sputtering, but at least getting across, and then up to 20. I alternate freestyle with more-forgiving breaststroke to add endurance. After some months, I swim a full mile, 72 lengths. And by then I have a daunting goal: I will do a triathlon.

I pick an easy first race with the swim in a pool. With several people in a lane, I stick with freestyle to avoid collisions and getting passed. Part way through the 400-yard swim, I wonder why I've never swum straight freestyle. I climb out gasping. I have a month before my next tri which will be in a cold lake and twice the distance.

The following Saturday, I wriggle into my new wetsuit and chat with fellow triathletes on the shore of Walden Pond. Andy points out the orange buoys set up on opposite shores. “First, we swim to that one,” he says, pointing to the right, “and then to that one” he points to the far left, “and then back here. We’ll do it four times. Each loop is 600 yards so that will make it a bit over a mile.” I look warily at the longest leg. It’s about 350 yards, over three football fields. I reach the first shore and then we set off for the far shore. For a moment, I am swimming with the thoroughbreds but then am on my own, unable to swim in a straight line, and treading water to pop my head up and sight the shore so far, far away. I make it back to home base and shiver for a few minutes with another novice. She had taken a left part way through the long stretch of the swim. “Couldn’t do it. Just too damned scary.” We swim the first leg back and forth a few times, staying closer to shore. After about a half mile, we stagger out.

The following Saturday I go to Walden Pond alone. I need to know I can swim open water comfortably before my race. I start swimming the same course as the prior week. My practice in the pool pays off. Without too much trouble I am able to occasionally eye the shore while still swimming. After a very brief break, I start on the long leg. My breathing is relaxed and steady. I enjoy the beauty of the pines lining the shore. The water is clean in my face. This is so much more fun than pool swimming. I reach the opposite shore, happy that my goal has been reached. I am no longer intimidated by an open water swim.
One November day, my Master’s Swim coach, Candy, hands out a flyer for a triathlete swim meet in late January. There will be three events: 100, 400 and 200 yards. The combined total will determine overall placement. I email Phil, “I’m likely to come in dead last. I looked at the times of the slowest swimmer from last year. I’m not even close to that.”

He replies,“So what? Be last. Be good to get more races under your belt.” I sign up and set my goal as meeting the times of last year’s slowest swimmer. Swimming becomes my passion. I am at the pool four days a week.

My first race is up: the 100. I thrash through the water for all I am worth, meet my goal, and shatter my PR with a 1:31. I’m not even last. Swimming the 400, keeping an eye on my lanemates spurs me on. Again a PR with 7:42. The cumulative times and placements are posted after each leg. Phil’s son informs me, “Diane, you’re sixth from last.” “Isn’t that wonderful!” I beam. “I was sure I’d be dead last.” The last leg, the 200, is another PR. I happily clutch the laminated card that has my times marked. To this day, it is posted with pride on my refrigerator.

Since my initial six laps, I’ve improved. In some races, swimming is even my best event. But the fast swimmers look so much more graceful than I feel. Now I may not be a natural athlete, but I’m a very good reader. And I’m pretty adept at watching TV. too. So I give it a shot. What can I lose? Just $49.95. I order the Total Immersion Freestyle Made Easy DVD and the Triathlon Swimming Made Easy book.

I curl up with the book one cold January day. It speaks to me. Swim with ease. Enjoy every stroke. Exit the water refreshed. Be strong for the bike leg. The book warns that in Master’s workouts, you may become a fitter flailer but not necessarily a good swimmer. After reading, I concentrate on the video. It warns me to not try to swim fast while learning the new techniques. Focus on form and speed will follow. Do not practice struggle. For a few weeks I avoid the drills while trying to incorporate the swim techniques. Focus on form and speed will follow. Do not practice struggle. For a few weeks I avoid the drills while trying to incorporate the swim techniques.

I scold myself. “You have to do the drills! That’s the point.”
“I don’t wanna. I’ll look stupid.”
“So what?”

I try drill number one: floating on my back, gently kicking my feet and not using my hands or arms. I am a sinker. I snort water through my nose and quickly stand. Give it another shot and feel my butt sinking. I kick more vigorously. The point of this drill is to feel comfortable and supported in the water. I’m not.

The book explains that the drills are sequential – mastery of one prepares you for the next. I try it again. And then it happens. I have a happy, effortless back kick across the pool. No water up my nose and body feels balanced. Look at me, I’m floating. And nobody has stopped, stared, pointed or laughed. Not that I noticed anyway. That night, I read up on the next drill.

My next session, I do what are now fun back-float laps and then I rotate toward my side so that one shoulder and arm are pointing up but my face is as it was with the back float. More water up the nose but after the back float experience, I trust this will get easier quickly. I rotate slightly less to regain some balance and kick across the pool. After a session of those, I am no longer snorting water and that drill is fun too. That night, I read up on the next drill and do that in my next session. And so it goes.

However, I’m not following every word in the book. The book tells me if I do nothing else, count strokes on every lap. The goal is to reduce stroke count and increase stroke length. My count goes up by one, down my one. Nothing much is happening with my count and it’s sucking the joy out of my swimming. What I do have going for me is I like to swim. So I stop counting. Maybe it would make me a better swimmer. But I swim because I enjoy it. I ignore the advice that doesn’t work for me. Will this pay off on race day? Not really sure but I do know I am enjoying swimming more than ever. I don’t think I’m faster but swimming is easier.

I’m at my first tri of the season. My smooth long stroke is ingrained. I draft on some feet in front of me. I lose those friendly feet at the turn but pick up another pair. I think, “What a wonderful day. What a wonderful swim. Life is great.” I have never felt so good while swimming and certainly never while racing. This “zen state” stays with me into the transition and through the entire race. I am having such a good time I don’t even know or care how fast I’m going. Now granted, my race here last year was a debacle. This year should be faster. And it is. By 9 minutes! For a sprint! An even better comparison is last year’s Danskin race, on the same course. It had been my strongest race ever, and in similar weather. I dropped two minutes from that time. Thank you, TI. Maybe I’ll even try counting strokes.

Diane began working as a massage therapist at a health club with an appealing 25 yard pool in March 2004. Her first swim was six lengths of sputtering difficulty, but by Thanksgiving she could swim a mile. Inspired by her Boston marathoner clients, she took up running. That got her so winded she added spinning classes. Next step was buying a road bike to get out of the gym and join group rides. Diane discovered her dormant competitive streak during her first ever race - a 5K - in September 2004. Excited to not be dead last and loving the camaraderie, she thought big. Triathlon. Her first tri was in 2005 and she now does about 5 races a year, finishing midpoint for her age group.