Swimming, or, how I almost drowned at the Olympic Trials

The email came into work pretty late on Saturday night, and the offer was pretty amazing. Not enough reporters had signed up for the official Olympic Trials Media Swim on Sunday morning, and they were looking for bodies to fill the extra spaces. It took a little convincing, but I got Nick to agree to join me in the fun.

Come to find out, it's not just some "bring your trunks and we'll let you dip in the warmup pool" kind of event. This is a full-on time trial, wearing Speedo's LZR Racer suit, in the competition pool at the Qwest Center. Same water, same suit that they're breaking all the records in this week. It's Olympic glory vs. constant teasing from coworkers. How can you say no, right? I was pretty pumped. We left work and went straight to Wal-Mart to buy goggles.

Just getting in the door on Sunday morning was quite a treat, but after getting the runaround from security for not having credentials (I think we did more exercise just GETTING to the sign-in desk that we did swimming), we found ourselves in the locker room, wondering how exactly we were supposed to put on these $500 swimsuits. I'm pretty sure most of the soreness I'm feeling today is from stretching myself INTO the suit, which took close to 10 minutes after all the adjusting and zipping was said and done.



So, we head out to find our escorts to the pool, realizing that no matter how ridiculous we felt and THOUGHT we looked in these suits, we were hardly out of place being that it was, you know, a SWIM MEET. (Well, OK, maybe we DID look ridiculous.) Walking up the stairs onto the deck is quite a surreal feeling. Not only are we being led out to the fastest swimming pool in history by an Olympic gold medalist (Pablo Morales), he's encouraging us to take some practice laps to get accustomed to the water.

The timers are set up. We're diving off the blocks. They have the announcer there. Names on the scoreboard. The works.

Too bad I forgot about all that as soon as I hit the water.

Nick and I aren't great swimmers, but we both knew HOW to swim. We came to the event expecting to warmup with a few laps and just work on getting close to our predicted 50-meter time of 45 seconds. Didn't happen. Not even close.

Fifty meters is a long way to swim. And for anyone who hasn't had the practice, it feels like a marathon. You're going along, feeling pretty good about yourself. "Wow, this isn't that bad," I remember thinking. Breathing was good. Kicking hard. Arms not tired yet. Gonna finish pretty quick.

And then I looked down in the water and saw the HALFWAY POINT. Twenty-five meters. At that point, panic sets in a little and your leisurely swim becomes less about a fast time and more about survival. You get to the end and the demoralizing realization sets in that you're in way over your head. This isn't going to be easy.



The rest of the day was mostly a blur. I finished in sixth place out of seven in my heat and there were plenty of laughs watching everyone else struggle to the line. There was a press conference with Michael Phelps and a tasty lunch. But once the initial amazement of being HERE and NOW was washed away on the first (and only) practice lap of the day, it was difficult not to shake your head in awe of the Olympians.



I swam the 50 meter freestyle in 56 seconds and could barely climb out of the pool, I was so exhausted. Michael Phelps could do two laps in less time than that and be justifiably disappointed. We got to the arena trying to decide whether we wanted to wear the full body suit or just the pants. Once we hit the water, reaching the wall at the other end of the pool became the priority. Maybe the real choice should have been between a kick board and a life preserver.



[Flickr -- Omega Media Swim, July 6, 2008]