100 km Swim Club

 I hate swimming. I really do. 

That's why when the 100km swim challenge came up at my school, I had to do it. If it was easy, it wouldn't be a challenge for me. So I signed up and pledged to swim 100km in the school year. That is more than manageable; however, I would have several periods of significant breaks due to focusing on running. 

Swimming is gross. Would you take a bath after someone else in the same water? What if that bath had loads of other people in it (think middle school kids that find peeing in a pool hilarious)? What if the bath water for all these people wasn't ever changed? What grosses me out more: cruising over and over the same band-aid on the bottom of the pool or watching the glob of black hair tumble along the tiles from lane to lane? Perhaps it is the goober of snot that gelatinously floats along, recently discarded from that COVID case? A fair amount of people do not wipe properly after defecating, so where do you think the leftovers go?

Turning laps in a pool is not enjoyable; yes, I know there are those out there that call it therapeutic, even cathartic, but they are idiots. I don't care what others say. One must survive the pitch-black bike ride into school at 6am, to the icy pre-swim shower (why do I need to shower if the pool chemicals are strong enough to kill COVID and disease from fecal matter?).  Speaking of chemicals, have you ever walked into a pool and been hit with that overpowering smell of chlorine? You take comfort in it, rationalizing it as the solution to all that urine and butt particles you are about to swim through. But then you think, no, I can smell these toxic compounds from the doorway, what happens when I am sucking deep breaths 1/4 inch off the surface of that pool for an hour? How can that be good for the lungs? And that toxic water goes in my mouth and up my nose with every turn. Is that destroying my gut? What could survive in me after this chemo-like treatment?

Swimming is a lonely sport. In fact, it might be the only sport that is better alone. A run, a ride, golfing - these are more fun with others. Go bowling alone and you might have a diagnosable condition. Softball, volleyball, football, and baseball cease to exist without multiple participants. But put more than one person in a lane at a pool.... then someone is staring daggers at you, always scraping your feet with their hands, and making a flip turn the most terrifying, near-death experience of your day and you avoid the head-on collision. It's an activity that begs to be done alone. 

Swimming is the only sport where you have to shower before you workout, but after the workout, it isn't as necessary. What's that all about? Pop in headphones on a run or bike and you get hours of music, podcasts, or audiobooks to focus on. Otherwise, connect with nature and enjoy. Listen to the wind in the trees, or watch people go by outside of interesting buildings. In a pool, you hear nothing and see nothing except for that same black line below you and my breathing which sounds like a little kid blowing bubbles in this chocolate milk through a straw. 

I crept into a categorical black hole from kilometer 1 to 70. I just did it. Some days I didn't, and others I did, and slowly but surely the distance added up. The last bit was the hardest. First, after many months away from swimming due to training for Boston, I worked myself to 10K to go. Then the weekly count came out, and it said I had 13k to go. No, says I, I remember last week it twas 17 and I swam me the required distance I did to make it to 10 and that's that. No, says he, the boyo that runs it, you see, and we have us a wee bit of a debate. Jame, says I, has 10 to go and I'll be a frog's uncle if yous says to me that this wee lass is going to best me. Aye, says he, you was at 20K for the start and you dones 7 so be you at 13. Nay, says I, I'd been at 17 and done me a round 7 and I be at 10. Well, back and forth did we row and callith upon the Google history did I claim, and sure enuff did it prevail a column switch and miscalculation. 10k to go be-ith the magic number. 

Well, shit if I didn't face it from there. 10K and every morning sunny and warm, which is about as rare in Poland as a winning lottery ticket. I tried to fit in a swim after work and sure enough, the fire alarm went off. So waved down in the pool, I put on a long coat of fleece, hobbled out among the elementary students, and checked in for the roll call. Went back in and with minutes left of open swim, hammered 200m freestyle in my fastest time. Still, the day dicked me out of 500m. I can't stand the idea of another bout in the pool to make up for this lost distance. But a week later I capped the 100k, fittingly doing my last swim (2.5K) 100% alone from start to finish in the pool. It was like a lap of honor, or maybe it felt like a funeral. 

The challenge was within me. If I had set out to do this, really do this, I probably could have been the first one done. If I had made this my daily routine and only form of workout, I would have crushed it early and moved on. The fact that I missed weeks (and months) of swimming at a time while focusing on running just prolonged this stupid challenge. There were many times when I was the first one in the water, often the last, and occasionally the only. I swam before school, at lunch, and in the evening. I swam before and after runs and rides. I swam when it was sunny out and I wished I was out there. I swam when it was cold, wet, and dark and wished I was in bed. But like all challenges, showing up at the start line is half the battle. 

I swam 100k and all I got was this stupid t-shirt.