Tonight I met Sprinter in the pool. She instructed me on possibilities of my stroke. She has the teaching touch, and the gift of speed which she gave herself after years of working mind-numbing, technique filled miles. She mentioned that they'd do eight to ten thousand yards (ignore the change in units) in a two hour period, on the fast days. I swear I blacked out and then came to, and there she still lounged against the wall. Now I knew the reasoning behind the shape of her body. I figured she could crush me or something. But that's the beauty of swimming. It's more like picking apples than the throwing of large rocks. Notice how those who move the fastest through that viscous bunch-o oxygen and hydrogen are the best at establishing a purchase through body position and timing. This purchase allows the athlete to move past their "handhold" and continue climbing a horizontal ladder.
I tell you what: of the three sports in Triathlon, swimming has confounded me beautifully for the past three years. Perhaps this explains my attraction...Who is to know.
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