Summer Swim
Todd has been in the water since he was four, with summer leagues, winter leagues, high school swim team, even lifeguarding. My boys, on the other hand, prefer playing at the pool in the summer, maybe with a few lessons thrown in the mix. This summer, however, we abandoned our safe little pool play and entered into the world of summer swim team. Oy.
Last spring, Todd accepted a position to be the head coach at a local swim and tennis club, one that his grandparents actually founded. And part of the deal when he decided to do this was that the boys would have to swim on the team for at least one season. We explained to them that many of the swimmers swam year round and all had been on a swim team before. The boys were definitely the newbies. Fine, they said. We'll do it.
Early morning practices and lane rope set-ups; 50 free, 50 breast and relays; diving off the block and DQ's---so many new things to learn and new experiences to grow and shape us. All of us.
I consider myself a quasi-organized person, so when the first swim meet rolled around, I felt confident I could handle it. Boys were good to go; Todd had prepped them on what to expect. He stayed heavily focused on all the details of the swim meet so instead of bothering him, I figured it is just like any other game, bring some snacks (pretzels and bars) and drinks, a couple of chairs, and we would be good to go. So I did just that. I even threw in a couple extra snacks after I learned that swim meets were several hours long. How about some mandarin oranges? That'll work.
We arrived at the pool (an away meet so I didn't even know the facility) and parked, and as I'm pulling my little bag of snacks out of the trunk, I noticed that most of the families unloading cars had large coolers. Maybe they have a ton of kids?? Maybe they are having dinner?? The boys will be fine, I tell myself. Armed with our bags and chairs, we journeyed the long hill up to the pool into the sea of swimmers, spectators, coolers and chairs. I will interject a confession here---this type of setting gives me total anxiety. Put me in a big city where I don't know anyone, I'm happy, happy. Put me in a small school setting where I know people, I'm totally fine. Put me in a small setting where I don't know anyone? I feel all wooden like Pinocchio and super anxious like Rabbit. It's a lovely combination. I tried not to look like I had no idea what I was doing, especially since I was married to the coach. I don't believe I succeeded. I ended up finding a spot only to find out (after I set up our chairs) that I was in the other team's section. After "repacking", I did find a place, about three people deep from the pool (I can stand) and next to a trashcan (it was at least a few feet away) and I set up for the meet. The boys had disappeared earlier to their team so at this point, they came to find me because they were hungry. Being so proud that I was completely organized, I handed them each a bar and a Gatorade.
I only knew about three moms of swimmers, and I knew all of them before summer because our children attend the same school. One of the moms sat nearby to me and I noticed that she was writing on her child's arm with a Sharpie. A bunch of numbers. She noticed me and turned and said, "Do you need a Heat Sheet? The other team has them available for $1" What in the world is a Heat Sheet?? And cash?? I never have cash. Maybe there is a Sharpie in the car. She must have noticed my complete ignorance, and quickly explained how it all worked--the Heat Sheet, the Sharpie, the whole thing. Okay, so maybe the swim meet is not really like just any old game with snacks and chairs. Pride swallowed once again. Todd had a couple of dollars, I borrowed a Sharpie, and my boys were all set up with their event info on their arm.
It wasn't long before the boys were back over asking for more food. I gave them the bag of pretzels, the mandarins and water, because the Gatorades were gone. After an hour or so with one event under our belt, I had two more starving boys and this time I didn't have much to give them. I noticed that several moms were pulling out sandwiches, wraps, bins of fruit---okay, I get it. The regular snacks won't work. Looks like I need to invest in a cooler.
The rest of that evening, I had many, many aha moments. I replaced my anxiety with humility and peace, asked lots of questions, made new friends, and watched all my boys make great accomplishments. Both boys swam their events without getting DQ'd (disqualified), Todd coached his first swim meet as head coach, and no one fainted from hunger. We did hit McDonald's later---Briggs said it was the best chicken sandwich he had ever eaten! (He has them all the time---thinking it just hit the spot that night.)
Redemption once again prevailed on our road of sanctification. I left that night both humbled and wiser. Before the second swim meet, I bought a new cooler, new chairs, ice packs to keep sandwiches cool, put Sharpies and $1's in our swim bag, and even offered to take pictures at the swim meets, because I figured that would be a great way to meet people. The boys, at that first meet, only swam one event (they were nervous) and didn't dive off the block. Now, two swim meets later, they swim at least three events and dive off the block. And no one goes hungry.
Last spring, Todd accepted a position to be the head coach at a local swim and tennis club, one that his grandparents actually founded. And part of the deal when he decided to do this was that the boys would have to swim on the team for at least one season. We explained to them that many of the swimmers swam year round and all had been on a swim team before. The boys were definitely the newbies. Fine, they said. We'll do it.
Early morning practices and lane rope set-ups; 50 free, 50 breast and relays; diving off the block and DQ's---so many new things to learn and new experiences to grow and shape us. All of us.
I consider myself a quasi-organized person, so when the first swim meet rolled around, I felt confident I could handle it. Boys were good to go; Todd had prepped them on what to expect. He stayed heavily focused on all the details of the swim meet so instead of bothering him, I figured it is just like any other game, bring some snacks (pretzels and bars) and drinks, a couple of chairs, and we would be good to go. So I did just that. I even threw in a couple extra snacks after I learned that swim meets were several hours long. How about some mandarin oranges? That'll work.We arrived at the pool (an away meet so I didn't even know the facility) and parked, and as I'm pulling my little bag of snacks out of the trunk, I noticed that most of the families unloading cars had large coolers. Maybe they have a ton of kids?? Maybe they are having dinner?? The boys will be fine, I tell myself. Armed with our bags and chairs, we journeyed the long hill up to the pool into the sea of swimmers, spectators, coolers and chairs. I will interject a confession here---this type of setting gives me total anxiety. Put me in a big city where I don't know anyone, I'm happy, happy. Put me in a small school setting where I know people, I'm totally fine. Put me in a small setting where I don't know anyone? I feel all wooden like Pinocchio and super anxious like Rabbit. It's a lovely combination. I tried not to look like I had no idea what I was doing, especially since I was married to the coach. I don't believe I succeeded. I ended up finding a spot only to find out (after I set up our chairs) that I was in the other team's section. After "repacking", I did find a place, about three people deep from the pool (I can stand) and next to a trashcan (it was at least a few feet away) and I set up for the meet. The boys had disappeared earlier to their team so at this point, they came to find me because they were hungry. Being so proud that I was completely organized, I handed them each a bar and a Gatorade.
I only knew about three moms of swimmers, and I knew all of them before summer because our children attend the same school. One of the moms sat nearby to me and I noticed that she was writing on her child's arm with a Sharpie. A bunch of numbers. She noticed me and turned and said, "Do you need a Heat Sheet? The other team has them available for $1" What in the world is a Heat Sheet?? And cash?? I never have cash. Maybe there is a Sharpie in the car. She must have noticed my complete ignorance, and quickly explained how it all worked--the Heat Sheet, the Sharpie, the whole thing. Okay, so maybe the swim meet is not really like just any old game with snacks and chairs. Pride swallowed once again. Todd had a couple of dollars, I borrowed a Sharpie, and my boys were all set up with their event info on their arm.
It wasn't long before the boys were back over asking for more food. I gave them the bag of pretzels, the mandarins and water, because the Gatorades were gone. After an hour or so with one event under our belt, I had two more starving boys and this time I didn't have much to give them. I noticed that several moms were pulling out sandwiches, wraps, bins of fruit---okay, I get it. The regular snacks won't work. Looks like I need to invest in a cooler.
The rest of that evening, I had many, many aha moments. I replaced my anxiety with humility and peace, asked lots of questions, made new friends, and watched all my boys make great accomplishments. Both boys swam their events without getting DQ'd (disqualified), Todd coached his first swim meet as head coach, and no one fainted from hunger. We did hit McDonald's later---Briggs said it was the best chicken sandwich he had ever eaten! (He has them all the time---thinking it just hit the spot that night.)Redemption once again prevailed on our road of sanctification. I left that night both humbled and wiser. Before the second swim meet, I bought a new cooler, new chairs, ice packs to keep sandwiches cool, put Sharpies and $1's in our swim bag, and even offered to take pictures at the swim meets, because I figured that would be a great way to meet people. The boys, at that first meet, only swam one event (they were nervous) and didn't dive off the block. Now, two swim meets later, they swim at least three events and dive off the block. And no one goes hungry.
Comments