You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy.™
High School Swim meets.
Go into a sauna, put on a winter parka, and feel the beads of sweat exit your arm pits, and that’s high school swimming.
So I’m in the swim stadium to watch my daughter compete in the county swim meet.
It’s wall to wall people. It’s an echo chamber of whistles and swim chants and loud shouts of unintelligible gibberish. It’s like being trapped inside a glass cage with a group of angry chimps.
The doors are open, but it’s raining outside. It’s humid outside and it’s rain jungle wet inside.
There are a 1000 people inside this facility and the collective body heat is raising the temperature into the 90’s. Kids in swim suits are clustered everywhere, crowding the pool deck, filling the stands.
There are a 1000 people inside this facility and the collective body heat is raising the temperature into the 90’s. Kids in swim suits are clustered everywhere, crowding the pool deck, filling the stands.
What space is left is gobbled up by parents and coaches and spectators.
There is an invisible chlorinated cloud hovering above the water. The air is thick and caustic and breathing is a hazard.
Swim meets are tough to watch.
Unlike soccer, where the game has a definable period of play, swim meets tend to last forever. They begin amidst confusion and whistles and buzzers and time clocks. Swim meets are heats and lanes and a jambalaya of clocks and numbers.
Swim meets are tough to watch.
Unlike soccer, where the game has a definable period of play, swim meets tend to last forever. They begin amidst confusion and whistles and buzzers and time clocks. Swim meets are heats and lanes and a jambalaya of clocks and numbers.
You wait an hour for your child to swim, and then it’s over in the blink of an eye.
My kid was in the 200 Meter medley relay. She swam the butterfly. She took the blocks, hit the water, and began churning like a propeller. Suddenly she was at my end of the pool, Touch. Turn. Push. 10 seconds later, she is touching the wall and the next girl is in.
And that’s it. In a splash of time and frenetic chaos it is over.
She exits the pool huffing and puffing.
The meet continues, the water is still churning, the air is still full of chlorinated fury.
Parents and team mates cram the pool deck.
Now it’s hurry up and wait again.
I don’t hate swimming. I love my kid. I just wish there was a better way to be a swimming spectator.
Watching on TV is so much easier. They have cameras in the pool and above the pool and lines that show world records and split times.
Swim meets are long and tiring and ultimately you get to watch your kid for 33.78 seconds.
It is a tough sport to watch in person. I applaud all you parents who participate in travel swimming, traveling around the country, all while supporting your children.
It says a lot about you.
It says a lot about you.
And that’s crazy.™