The 2021 Olympics start later this week, and as a result, swimming is top-of-mind for me at the moment.

Growing up, I was reliably athletic, but not particularly standout in any one sport. I was a pretty solid runner, though sidelined by shin splints during a few of my track or cross-country seasons. Running skills translated into being a fairly good soccer player, but without the ball-handling skills to capitalize much on a decisive breakaway. I didn’t make the volleyball team, knocked over the pole all 3 attempts in my first meet trying high jump, and only tested 3 belts deep in martial arts before a sparring session left me wondering why I’d signed up to have someone knock the wind out of me.

But swimming… swimming was my jam. I didn’t start until 7th grade because one of my friends was joining the team, and initially I couldn’t make a single set, no matter how forgiving the intervals. But evidently I just had to be given a few thousand repetitions over the length of the pool, and something close to natural talent emerged. (I say “natural talent” referring in part to how my adolescent brain rationalized the benefits of my anatomy compared how gangly and unfeminine I felt with my big hands, wide feet, broad shoulders… and the way boys in class would tell me to put my “guns” away when I wore sleeveless shirts.)

Granted, I was still not an all-star. I made Varsity all 4 years of high school, but it wasn’t tough to score enough points when the team overall was only so-so. I qualified for the MHSAA “state meet” a couple of times, but only in relays. And if I’m being honest, I always looked like I was sandbagging at practice… I swam in the middle of the team talent and never led sets unless they were something competitive like drop-a-second 50s. To be fair, I wasn’t trying to low-ball my abilities, but the thousands of yards daily were simply not my fast-twitch forte, and I like to think it was more a matter of how I was clearly suited to turning on and mentally letting go during a race (I swam sprint freestyle and part of what I loved about my events was how little thinking there was; just muscle memory, power, and a vague resignation to oxygen deprivation).

But after years of 2x/day, 6 days/week practice, hours and hours (and hours and hours) watching the same floor tiles drift by with no other mental distractions available, finding no amount of soap can ever really remove the chlorine smell from your skin until the season was over, “Iron Lung” clubs, “Animal Kicking” clubs, “Hell Weeks,” glorious “tapers,” rushed locker room routines with 30 other girls in the 12 minutes allotted to get ready for 2nd period, sizing up the competition’s seed times before a race, post-practice Saturday team breakfasts, pre-meet Spaghetti team dinners, and that awful, knowing moment you spend mid-air en route to the shock of cold water to start the first set of practice, first thing in the morning… I developed a lasting love and respect for the sport and what it taught me.

Fast forward many years since being out of the competitive scene, and of all topics in life, including those I studied in college and obtained a degree in, those which I have since pursued solely out of passion and interest, even those for which I am employed and literally paid to have an informed opinion of… there are none that I feel as confidently expert in as swimming.

All this to say, I have 2 timely thoughts on my mind the past few days:

1. On the topic of childbirth — during my labor with A, the doctor was coaching me through breathing and pushing. She asked me: “do you know how to swim?”
   Me: yes.
   Doc: okay, I want you to take a big breath like you’re going to swim. Now when I say push, you push and we will count to 10. Ready? Push!
   Me: *pushing, exhaling*
   Doc: no, no, no! Don’t exhale! Stop, stop.
   Me (reminder: actively having a baby): you said to breathe like I’m going swimming.
   Doc: yes, but don’t exhale!
   Me (still having a baby): swimmers exhale.
   Doc: no, they don’t.
   Me (really, oddly coherent given that I’m within minutes of giving birth): yes they do, otherwise they’d have a buildup of CO2, but that’s neither here nor there. You do not want me to exhale then?
   Doc (clearly more than a little surprised to be having this conversation): right. Okay. Let’s just have you push and hold your breath this time until we’re done counting to 10. Ready?
   
   
2. And this, perhaps the greatest relay leg in Olympics swimming history. Jason Lezak anchors for Team USA, comes back from a major deficit and presumptive loss (including at the 50 meter mark in his own leg), sets a world record with his split, and earns the team a gold by 8 hundredths of a second. I have probably watched this video 40x just by myself over the years because it is such a stunning race.

Suffice it to say, I am very much looking forward to watching the Olympics coverage coming up — and hey, maybe even some events live despite the Tokyo time difference due to my own impending up-all-night schedule! (What can I say? I’m a sucker for some silver lining.)