Language, Starting Over, Swimming

Learning “Swimese”…or is it “Swimish”?

Interpreting Master’s workout lingo can be just as hard as swimming

I love languages.  I delight in discovering that, in some other tongues, nouns are gendered, reflexive verbs romp through the vernacular, and tenses (other than past, present and future) abound.  Pronouncing vowels differently exercises my jaw and lips.  Mastering syntax and grammar challenges my brain, and encountering nuanced concepts expands my mind.  Having even basic familiarity with a foreign language helps me feel more at home when I travel.

Recently I got back into a Master’s swim program at one of Denver’s recreation centers.  While I don’t consider myself an athlete, I wanted the structure to keep me focused.  Still, deciding to try again meant overcoming the decade old memory of a humbling and harrowing Master’s class.  Back in Boston, a friend (and Ironman triathlete) suggested I join him.  I protested that I was a mediocre swimmer.  As a youngster, I had been somewhat fearful of water.  While I passed all the swim tests, I never enjoyed it enough to improve, let alone compete.  He told me not to worry.  Ha!  While the rest of the group shot up and down the pool, I crawled along until I couldn’t take it anymore and switched to the breaststroke.  We swam in circles, frequently four to a lane, so I inhaled mouthfuls of froth and feared getting kicked in the face.  While others gracefully executed flip turns, I clung like a barnacle to the cement edge to stay out of the way.  In the locker room, sinewy women chatted about split times and triathlon plans.   I dressed silently to avoid detection as an impostor;  I was happy to have simply survived.  Still, the workouts strengthened me and after a few months I amazed myself by swimming a mile in open water and loving it.

At this Denver pool, I usually have a slow lane to myself.  The mellow coach is even changing the program’s name to the less intimidating “Adult Swim Conditioning”.  Yet, there are linguistic hurdles.  At the start of each session, he fills a whiteboard with words, acronyms, and numbers to guide us through the workout.  Standing in the shallow end, I lift up my goggles, squint to decipher the markings, and again try to memorize “Swimese” (or maybe it’s “Swimish”) so I won’t feel like an interloper.

OREO: Alas, he doesn’t serve treats, but like the cookie it means to swim hard at the beginning, soften in the middle, swim hard again.

FR: Freestyle (crawl to normal folks)

BR: Breaststroke

BK: Backstroke

FLY: Butterfly (an odd name, since it makes people look like sea lions)

PULL:  Place a foam buoy between your legs and pull with your arms.

KICK:  Use a kick-board.

IM:  Individual Medley, four strokes in sequence (FLY, BK, BR, FR).  For me, it’s “II”  (Ilona’s Improv) since I can’t FLY.

SKIPS:  Swim. Kick.  IM. Pull. Swim.  Very sneaky to embed one acronym within another!

Catchup:  A diabolical  FR variation, where one arm stays extended in front of the body until the moving arm catches up.  As I learned, you have to kick fast and pull the other hand hard to avoid drowning.

Clocks:  FR with the left hand positioned at “11 o’clock” and the right hand at “1 o’clock.”  It activates slightly different muscles.

200 FR 2-4-6-2:  Swim four sets of 200 yards.  For the first set, breathe every two strokes.  Second set, breathe every four strokes.  Then, you’re allowed one gulp of air every six strokes.  If you survive that, again breathe every two strokes.  My coach calls it a “lung buster.”  He wasn’t joking; I sputtered for air several times.

Tombstone:  A macabre version of KICK.  Instead of holding the board flat in front of you, you grip the sides and stand it perpendicular to the water to create more resistance.  I tried this and barely budged.

Yesterday, after the coach translated SKIPS for me, he mentioned that he enjoys acronyms and once invented a T.H.A.N.K.S.G.I.V.I.N.G. workout.  Should I ever find something that complicated on the board, I just might CRY (Curse, Roar, Yell) WTF (Why Torture Folks)?!

Advertisements

About ilona fried

Writer, Feldenkrais trainee, and explorer of internal and external landscapes.

Discussion

8 thoughts on “Learning “Swimese”…or is it “Swimish”?

  1. I think it’s swimish as in yiddish. I don’t understand either one.

    Posted by Denver Art Matters | July 18, 2012, 10:37 pm

Trackbacks/Pingbacks

  1. Pingback: Do you live in possibility or fear? « à la carte spirit - July 25, 2012

  2. Pingback: More on Possibility: Leaders are Everywhere « à la carte spirit - July 29, 2012

  3. Pingback: Swimming to Celebrate | à la carte spirit - June 16, 2013

  4. Pingback: Alas, the Humerus is not the Funny Bone. Tales from Learning Anatomy. | à la carte spirit by ilona fried - January 27, 2015

  5. Pingback: Curiosity as Portal | à la carte spirit by ilona fried - March 24, 2015

  6. Pingback: When the Swimmer is Ready, the Wetsuit Appears | à la carte spirit by ilona fried - October 6, 2015

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Enter your email address to receive notifications of new posts.

Thank you!

Whether you leave a comment or a donation, I appreciate your support.

Follow on Twitter

Follow à la carte spirit by ilona fried on WordPress.com

Archives

%d bloggers like this: