Saturday, June 22, 2019

Recent swims (RIP Charles Van Der Horst)

https://www.newsobserver.com/news/politics-government/article231644118.html

Linked here is a story about a man who lost his life participating in an open water swim in the Hudson. I never met him in person, but we communicated as swimmers do so often via Facebook, and through that medium, I met a person of passion and compassion. He loved swimming--and even more, loved fellow humans whatever their color, gender identity, nationality, or any other facet of us that makes us who we are. One of my favorite swimming photos is of him leaping out and off the boat and into the Hudson for one of the 8 Bridges stages. Some say it was the last photo of him. I'm not sure, but it expresses so much his joy, his spirit, his leaping into life full bore.

June 16
Today's #swimlikecharles
I touched the Rte 422 bridge. From the water.
Our usual group open water swim to which our esteemed coach, John Kenny, added a bit of magic. After I'd completed a 3rd lap around the buoys, and the other swimmers had left because they had a longer to do list than I did, John asked if I wanted to swim to the bridge, about 300 yds from the start point.
Hey, sure, why not! (Years ago, a friend said to me, "your middle name should be 'why not?'")
Well, this isn't just any swim to a bridge. The closer you get, the faster the current moves against you. And within about 15 feet or so of the bridge, it feels like an endless pool.
Very grateful for John's coaching because he directed me in such a way that while it was still a serious challenge, it was doable--and fun!
I thought of Charlie and the joy with which he approached swimming. Yes, the going was getting harder. But I thought of how much I love this crazy sport. ("You swim in the Schuylkill?! Are you nuts?" Why of course!)
Soon enough I reached the endless pool section. This was getting to be work!
If any of you use a power rack, think of that image for a moment...
https://youtu.be/EJnmBNNz_jY
But John said "keep going," and I trusted his confidence in me. Plus I had dealt w that current 2 years ago after swimming about 5-6 miles. Of course I'm good for it! And CVDH was written on my arm!
Finally, I reached and touched the bridge, and then came the calmness of flying back downriver! Sometimes literally flying....how could I not indulge in a bit of butterfly here and there!
Thanks, John, for raising the bar, not letting me get lulled into a comfort zone!
#naturespowerrack






June 18

Delightful open water swim (not a race--that's tomorrow weather permitting). I swam about a mile, mostly freestyle but played a little w the individual medley strokes, and vertical kick.
Before leaving for the swim, I was thinking of Charles Van Der Horst and all that happened.
I asked him for a favor....could he please in some way let me know he made it safely to heaven.
The huge rainbow we saw only moments after the swim....I think his answer was yes.





Two days of swims (June 21-22)
1 Friday 
Left first one at sunset. Working
class suburbs have moments. A pool
with my own lane, children’s pool noodles floating precariously close.
The forty-two hundred yards may or may not have grown to 4300. I may or may not
have done a final easy 100. It may or may not matter. If it does, the statistics:
Goal was to be a little faster each set, each repeat. In moderation.
1000 in 23:55
500 in 11:46
500 in 11:35
200 in 4:37
200 in 4:34
200 in 4:30
200 in ? Swam, perhaps, through a black hole and out the other side. Perhaps. I wasn’t looking.
200 in 4:26
100 in 2:20
100 in 2:16
100 in 2:16
100 in 2:13
100 in 2:14
100 in 2:13
100 in 2:13
100 in 2:12
100 in 2:10
100 in 2:09
2x100 IM, 3:07ish for the first one (w fins), no idea what the second one was.
Maybe I swam 100 free cool-down. Or not.
Walked out to a sunset. The city shining off in the distance.



Stop when you need to and be moved


2 Saturday
Next morning, a stray Chinese fortune,
“Always do your best.” This is confusing.
Not confusing, the flowers I pass on the way
to the pool for practice, their purple and lavender beacons
to be noted. I think it pisses God off
if you walk by the color purple
in a field somewhere and don’t notice it—or Alice
Walker’s voice in your head. Best is about kind, the kind
of flower you are.
Best had eluded me, or not, scrolling down
the list of distances, 500 to warm up, playing, then six
times 100, aiming for more
elusive speed. (Always do your best.)

A set involving IM strokes after every 50 free,
the backstroke a study in collision
avoidance, swimming one-armed,
the other rubbing against the lane line.
If I could touch it, I wouldn’t crash. Fear is useless,
yet pervasive.
Set free in the last 50 free.

From there, two hundred times three.
Fins don’t turn me into a fish.
Time passed too quickly.
Second and third 200 mushed together, a four hundred
was born at some speed or other.

Save the best for last. One
hundred of whatever stroke, as fast as possible.
(Always do your best.)

Second one, me vs time. I almost caught my lane-mate.
Edged time by a second.
I did my best. Or not.

In the water, rainbows form. So many swims
drink me in. I emerge soaked with all of them.

Lives lost and restored in me. The water our home.





I did the shorter sets in each section.

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