That is Swimming
First, you submerge into a different world. That’s the way I was taught. Sink. Quiet descends. The world turns cloudy, blurred. Bend your knees. Curl your legs and press your toes against the wall. Stretch your arms forward, cross your hands into a vee. Push off. You are an arrow cutting through the water.
Take a breath, quick, under your left arm. You are underway.
Four strokes, head down—one, two, three, four—and, arm in the air, turn your head. Don’t lift it, just turn it. Suck in air but not too much. Overfill your lungs, and they don’t like it. Calibrate it, and take in just enough to get you through the next four strokes. Then face back in the water. Neck flat, back of your head parallel with the sky.
As you stroke, your fingertips brush your hipbones, silky in the water. The swim coach said it was like unzipping your side. Then your other side. If you unzip, you don’t have to worry about your elbow being raised like a fin. It takes care of itself. One, two, three, four. Left, right. Left, right. Left arm high in an arc—BREATHE. Face back in the water.
Keep your stroke wide. Arms out like Superman in the water. Spread your fingers. The more area your palm covers, the more it’s like a paddle digging into the water. That’s the motion you want, not fingers closed, not pointed palm knifing the water. A scoop, pushing the water and propelling your body forward.
Now, remember, all the while you’re doing this, you’re kicking. Steady, even kicking. Like a propeller, not like beaver tail slapping the water, that’s no good. You are disturbing as little water as possible. All your energy is going into forward motion. You are not attacking the water—please don’t do that. It’s not a battle. The water is not your enemy. It’s holding you up. It’s the medium that allows you to fly forward. To succeed. Feel strong. To be strong.
Do it long enough and you will startle—oh, my lord, did I forget and breathe underwater?
No, you are fine. Swim.
When you return to land, sit. Remove your goggles then swim cap then ear plugs. Let the water drip off. But first stop the calculating of your watch. It’s faulty, of course. it skips laps and calls a length a lap. But it’s a backup in case you lose yourself in the rhythm of your swim and forget how many laps you’ve done. Achievement, of course in your unenlightened ways, you want to know how you’ve done.
Dry off. Gather your belongings. One last look over your shoulder. That is swimming.
Joe Hawes
Nicely put. The reader glides smoothly through like a seasoned swimmer. That is writing.
Ellen Morris Prewitt
Thank you. I thought, this is an essay about my love affair with swimming, disguised as a “how to” instructional. 😊
Pearl
It brought me back to learning to swim…. And I learned from you not to keep my fingers together! Thanks coach!
Ellen Morris Prewitt
You’re welcome! When I was six years old, at the YWCA, so a looooooong time ago, I was taught to keep my fingers cupped together and hold a narrow span. That’s the first thing this coach changed—–I got some coaching when I decided to do long-distance and thought, if you’re going to be that many repetitive motions, you need to know you’re doing it right to keep injuries down. He had me use a very exaggerated span–like Sasquatch attacking–to get that span open. It then gradually came to where he wanted it to be. So fun you like to swim too!
Donna
Fantastic description Ellen. I felt like I was swimming laps with you. I never learned how to properly swim so I’m a putterer. A bit of this and a bit of that. Be Well 😁
Ellen Morris Prewitt
Thank you. I had just come home from the pool. 😊 I learned to swim when I was six in the basement pool at the YWCA. Then I started playing tennis at 7 and after that, I had little time in a pool–back in the dark ages, they didn’t want tennis players swimming because it would “relax your muscles.” I’ve had various periods of swimming, like when my hips first started deteriorating, but then I broke my elbow and decided my joints weren’t for crap, and swimming is what I needed to be doing. As you can tell, I’ve fallen in love with it.