Meanwhile, I’ll try to gather my wits to talk about my big kids’ big auditions today. More on that later.

The moral of the story? Get you own pool. Or get a friend with a pool.

So, after that embarrassing scenario, I was more than excited to go to my friend Fara’s pool this afternoon. Fara makes it a pool party every time we stop by, which we try to make weekly in the summer time. They just opened their pool last week, so the party’s just getting started.

I met Fara back in ’98 when our kids were in elementary school together. She was the treasurer of the PTO, and I was the Vice President. Today she also invited Theresa, our President the year we built the new playground at the school.

Fara and Theresa are not afraid to get in the pool to swim, and both of them liked holding Chanya, so I could, too.

Oh yeah, there were kids there, too. Fara invites us, and then opens the pool to her neighborhood kids, too. The highlight is usually the diving competition. Today it was more a diving lesson for me. It’s fun tricking the kids into being swim geeks if only for an afternoon.

I have made a little noise over here about my passion for swimming. Now I’ve got a new blog that goes into it a little deeper. (sorry about the bad puns, but I really don’t mind stumbling into a pun here or there. In fact, I quite enjoy it).

So, I’ve got a little history, a little Olympic hype, and a personal story or two there. Come on over, the water’s nice.

When I was pregnant with Yanni (17 years ago), I had dreams of taking water aerobics or something during my 9 months. Before I knew it, the pregnancy was over, and I hadn’t stepped foot in a pool. In fact, I never even got a maternity swim suit until 2003 when I was pregnant with Esteban!

That was for taking Yanni to a water park in December, btw, one of the strange activities that I think is wonderful.

I finally began the whole pregnant swimming adventure the last time around. It was more like a continuation of my non-pregnant swim workouts, though, and I had to stop after only 2 months due to finances.

I was really out of shape by the time I got back to the pool this October. Being 4 months pregnant already didn’t help, so I took it slow. I thought I could start out swimming 500-700 yards and build up to the 2000 that I had stopped at back in 2006.

In the past when I climbed in a pool pregnant, I was thrown off by the buoyancy. I kept feeling like I was going to fall over or float off the ground. I am used to kind of floating just below the surface at all times, but swimming with a belly is like having a kick board or a pool buoy at all times. I love that! I feel like I’m a much better swimmer now. I’m also getting pretty slow. It used to be that I would be influenced by people around me to swim faster and blow myself out. Not any more. I continue at my snail’s pace, no matter who’s around. I find the breathing and what not much easier to manage when I’m not trying to beat someone.

That old maternity suit was riding up a few months ago. I found a bigger one online for $10. I also bought an old lady swim cap to keep my hair drier in this cold winter. The cap actually cost more than the suit, and it did a good job of keeping the top of my head dry. Then one day I lost it. I must have dropped it at the Y or whatever. I started wearing Yanni’s fancy silicon cap, and found that my hair was really dripping at the end of a swim session. On my birthday, I mentioned to Curtis that I couldn’t find any old lady swim caps in town, and he asked me why I hadn’t just ordered another one. I mumbled something about punishing myself for losing the old one, and how I would get around to ordering a new one (now that I had permission!) Curtis then sent me this link. I was in old lady swim cap heaven! I ordered a black cap with blue flowers, to match my suit, and I couldn’t resist a fully flowered black cap either. The babies helped me pick out my caps, and we were giddy ordering them.

The caps came in the mail Monday, and I tried out the one with the blue flowers on Tuesday. I was disappointed to note that my new suit is so faded that the blues don’t match, but of course wearing out your suit is proof that you are actually out there working, so I didn’t sweat it too hard.

I had hoped to at least work my way up to swimming a mile this pregnancy. That’s 1800 yards, according to the Y pool. I was pretty much on schedule to hit that mark if I added 100 yards each week. I made it up to 1200 before I took off a few weeks because of the flu. I am able to comfortably swim 1200 now, and I don’t have enough weeks before the due date to slowly get up to that mile. I might just continue to add yards until delivery, just to see how far I can get.

Tuesday, I heard that loud man at the pool. I don’t see well without my glasses, so I can’t be sure what he really looks like. But he sounds like the man that I bumped into (literally) a couple years ago. We had been sharing a lane, and he said we would circle swim, and my bad eyes told me that he was swimming down and back, so I did that. He really yelled when we smacked heads. I was so embarrassed, and have never shared a lane with him since. I heard him a few lanes over on Tuesday. Then, during a break in swimming, he called over to me, “You have a pretty nice butterfly!” I was surprised. The butterfly is the one stroke I’ve never been formally taught. I have watched the kids swim it, and asked them for how to do it, but that’s all. He continued, “I can’t do it at all. And the fact that you are able to get above water is pretty impressive.”

Woa. Curtis had told me that everyone must notice this very pregnant woman who comes and swims for a long time. Some people at the pool have commented on that as well. But since I can’t see well, I assume nobody else can either. I wonder if people are actually watching me. It’s a good thing I can’t see them watching, because I don’t think I could continue to swim with all those eyes on me. But on the other hand, the water calls me. I can’t wait for the next swim session.

And I can’t wait to use the pool to get back in shape after the baby.

So, Sunday, even though we stayed home from church because of icy roads, I took Yanni, Xay, Mani, and Joy swimming at Western. By 3 o’clock, the freezing rain had turned to just rain,and the ice was slush. I was very grateful.

While the Y free-swim is like $20 for a family, we got into Western’s pool for $7–and they have a high dive!

I had thought I might miss out on some of the thrill of swimming by bring the kids, but it was more fun with them. I had forgotten why I had wanted them to learn to swim in the first place. So I could swim.

I remember the first time I tried to go swimming as a Mommy, way back in ’92. I took Yanni to the pool in her cute little bubble suit, and proceeded to be terrified that she would drown the whole time. I realized that I’d never have a moment’s peace in the water as long as she couldn’t swim.

So I set out to get her swimming. We signed up for baby and me classes at the Y when she was 2. That’s when I found out that they don’t teach swimming in those classes. They also don’t believe that children are capable of learning to swim before the age of 3. I say, tell that to the baby in our class that was swimming all over the pool. And this whole family of kids from our townhouse community that was swimming from the age of 1.

Angie, the mother of these three swimming kids told me that she did the throw ‘em and let ‘em swim method. She would blow in the baby’s mouth, forcing him to hold his breath, and then dunk him under the water. She blew over Xay’s mouth, and he didn’t mind being dunked at 3 months or so. She also gave him her little baby innertube and seat, and he happily tooled around the pool independently all summer. Xay has never been scared of the water. Angie was on to something! But I was too chicken to do everything her way, and I created a fear in Ayanna that took years to break.

I took her to the Kik pool when she was 5, the youngest age they took students at that time. I figured if anybody could teach her to swim, they could. That’s where I learned to swim. Now I realize that it depends on the staff and the student’s readiness. It took a whole summer session for Yanni to even put her head in the water. Maybe two years later she was jumping off the diving board, and furiously treading water in the 12 foot area.

Xay started swim lessons at 3, and was busy talking and challenging his teacher to races immediately. Yanni could swim now, but didn’t know any strokes.

When I signed them up for swim team in ’01, Xay was in a slightly lower level than Yanni. They learned the four competitive strokes and have been good swimmers ever since. This is the first year since the fall of ’01 that they haven’t been on the swim team. We took a break for Yasha, and haven’t gone back yet. Yanni, who hated the rigors of 3-5 day a week swim practice, was raring to go swimming on my birthday. She was talking about wanting to be lifeguard, much to my surprise. She who hates swimming because of her hair, or whatever.

Xay was real cool about it, but he loved it too. He was fetching everyone’s goggles when they dropped them in the pool, even Yanni’s in the deep end. He came down to the shallow end with me and the little girls and helped me with my flip turns, he timed my lengths, and even whipped me soundly in a mini-race. I was too tired to really continue racing him. Yanni spent most of her time going off the board, especially the high dive. I called her down to watch the girls so I could go off the high dive. Just. one. time. You know, because I’m 40.

Yanni warned me to not think about it too much–just jump. I prayed as I climbed up. I walked way out to the end of that board. I looked down. I couldn’t do it. I looked back to the ladder. It was steep. I better just jump. But, no. I thought I’d rather risk climbing back down. Funny how I wasn’t the least bit embarrassed to do that. I just didn’t want to slip and fall climbing back down.

I rejoined Imani and Joy, as they got more an more comfortable in the water. At first, both of them insisted on swimming with noodles. Western’s pool is 4 feet deep in the shallow end. But soon, Imani was swimming without the noodle, and Joy was venturing out without it, and going back to swim with it alternately. She was constantly jumping in the water.

I asked them if they wanted to go off the diving board. They both wanted to. (They have had swimming lessons at Yanni and Xay’s swim club, and Imani is about 3/4 through the program; Joy is 1/4 way through). They had to take a swimming test in order to go off the board. Joy wasn’t ready, and I thought Imani would refuse this. After all, she had resisted my trying to get her to really swim in the shallow end. For the test, she had to swim the width of the (Olympic size) pool in the deep end. Imani insisted on taking the test. That was almost a length in a regular size pool, a distance I know she can swim, but she usually stops mid-way to rest. She swam freestyle across the pool. I thought for sure she was holding on to the bulkhead partway through. Then, Imani got out of the pool, and the lifeguard gave her a waterproof paper armband. She passed the test! Yay, Mani!

Then, she was too scared to go off the board. It did look intimidating to a little person not yet 4 feet tall. The lifeguard let her go off the block first. I told Imani that if she went off the diving board, I’d go off the high dive. By this point, Joy was hankering to get back in the pool, so I left Imani with Yanni and headed back to the shallow water with Joy.

Xay and I played a little volleyball while Joy sat on two noodles like a hobby horse. It was almost time to go, and I could see that Imani had conquered her fear of the diving board. I had to make good on my promise. Xay went back to the deep end. I called Yanni back over to watch Joy so I could go off the high dive, 5 minutes before the pool closed.

Xay was behind me, offering the moral support I desired. I took Yanni’s advice. I wouldn’t think about it, I would just jump. So I prayed and climbed that tall, steep, slippery ladder. I walked the length of the long, rough board. I don’t think I even jumped up. Just off. And, before I knew it, I was in the water, and I didn’t go too deep. When I came up, I was like, “I did it!” My goggles were fogged up, so I just swam in the direction of the side of the pool. Xay was all nonchalant. I knew Yanni would be cheering for me, and she tells me that she was. I was shaking when I got out of the pool, and I was shaking for the remainder of the time we splashed around in the shallow end.

We closed that pool. Got our $7 worth, and some!

My big question is, so what?

Who cares who sponsored the event? What does that have to do with the untimely death of this child?

When I was in High School, my friend Della lost her little sister at Woods Lake. Woods Lake is the only free place to swim in Kalamazoo, and people used to make jokes about the top layer of the lake being made of jherri juice. Needless to say, most of the people that *swam* there were black.

I don’t remember all the details of the event, but I have seen a similar scene enough times to guess what went down. Della’s mother didn’t swim; she probably wasn’t even there–just sent the kids down there to get them out of her hair. A bunch of kids splashing around in the murky water, and the little one goes out just a bit too far. . . by the time the lifeguard gets involved, it’s too late. Somebody’s baby is gone.

I remember taking gym class in High School, and swimming was required for one semester. Most of the black girls stayed in the shallow end of the pool, protecting their hair. I had mercifully learned how to swim at the age of 12, so I had to participate in the swimming portion of the class. The peer pressure was a very strong force to counter. Not to mention the desire to NOT look like a wet dog for the rest of the school day (I had gym like 1st hour)!

In my gym class only 3 out of the 8 black kids knew how to swim. Don’t think they finished the class knowing how to swim, either.

I had taken lessons for years before it finally clicked for me.

So, I’m looking at this issue, as I’ve been looking at it for years. Curtis and I had signed the kids up for lessons for years, too. At the Y, at WMU, at Borgess Health Center, at the Kik pool–you name it, we tried it–and they still didn’t know how to swim.

Curtis finally put his foot down. He wasn’t paying for one more ‘Y’ lesson–and that included all the aforementioned places. He was only interested in a program where they actually learned how to swim. And for that to happen, they had to learn to swim for a purpose, like competing.

I desperately wanted the children to learn to swim. I didn’t want to be scared to death every time they were near a body of water. I wanted to be able to swim with them, and have fun. I didn’t want what happened to Della’s sister to happen to them.

So, I had my antennae out for a swim team. One day, we dropped in on the Orbe’s, a family from our church. They lived in the neighborhood, near the Cousins, other friends of ours, who had recently moved. Since we used to just drop in on the Cousins, I thought we could just drop in on the Orbes as well. They were a birracial couple that had joined the church the same time that we did.
It was a hot day, and Mark Orbe brought out the slip ‘n’ slide. Victoria, their daughter around Yanni’s age, came out in a maroon and white speedo swim suit. “That’s her team suit,” Natalie, her mother, told me. Intrigued, I asked all about this team.

It turns out that Victoria had been swimming on a team for a few years now, and they practiced at nearby Central High School. Natalie gave the phone number, and I called in September of 2001, right around the time to try out for the team.

I didn’t know whether Yanni swam well enough to join a swim team, but it turned out that the coach would work on any shortcomings she would have, and bring her up to speed quickly.

Xay was signed up in the winter session of that year.

And I’ve watched my children struggle to become good swimmers.

Curtis took them to the Y to practice one day, and he met a woman who was supervising her granddaughter in the pool. The woman was white and her granddaughter was birracial. The woman had been researching about black people and swimming. She’d noticed that her granddaughter had a hard time with floating. She had wondered if the struggle was genetic. Upon further inspection, the woman found out that black people have denser muscles and bones than white people, making it more difficult for them to float. This could be compensated by sheer muscle strength, she suggested.

Curtis bought Yanni a book called Total Immersion, which details a way to swim more *slippery*, or how to more efficiently glide through the water. Yanni never finished reading it, but I read it. I took these principles to heart and worked on them while I was swimming twice a week at the Y.

I think those principles are the key to breaking the bouyancy conundrum that makes it hard for black people to swim.

There are a few black swimmers in Yanni and Xay’s current swim club, and I’ve noticed that even the best of them struggles with the strokes that require you to float on top of the water: freestyle and back stroke. They do much better with the more underwater strokes, like breast stroke and butterfly–the brute force strokes, if you will.

I think the benefits of being a good swimmer far outweigh the barriers to achieving that goal. I have watched how swimming has shaped and molded the children’s bodies, (and my own!), as well as formated their minds. They are much sharper in their thinking since they have been swimming.

There’s something to be said for a challenge.  I am proud of the children from not shying away from the great challenge of floating and swimming.  It will stand them well in the future, whatever they decide to do.

I felt that shock again this weekend at the Summer Solstice Swim Meet. In the middle of all the sun is not safe, tanning=evil message, here we have an outdoor swim meet.

Tan and burning. flesh. everywhere.

Yanni swam first Friday afternoon and EARLY Saturday morning. She was the darkest person at the pool. I think there was one other (partially) black girl, but that’s it.

When we drove up this afternoon for Xay’s session, we saw a real black man. Yanni joked that he was probably there to support his adopted Chinese son. Later, we saw him with his Asian wife and three children. She wasn’t too far off. . .

Xay’s group was a lot more coloful than Yanni’s–as I’d expected. Most of us quit before Yanni’s age? or Never started at all? The younger group may be a new crop, or a movement–only time will tell.

We were instructed to get to the pool at least an hour early for warm-up. Each child had a different approach to warming up. Yanni was busy socializing, hanging out in the diving area, a much smaller sub-section of the pool than the olympic sized lengths of the rest of the pool. She barely swam a warm-up at all. Xay worked that whole 50 yard lane–warming up for the full 45 minutes alloted for his group today. He’s dutiful. I worried about Yanni’s lack of warm up and I worried about Xay tiring himself out in the warm up. He’s the energizer bunny, though. . .

Mani is not competing yet–but like piano, she seems to actually like what I’d want her to like–and she can float–the only one so far. She’s driven and (therefore?) gifted in swimming.

Swim culture. The first time we came to this meet was 2 years ago, when we were still part of the Kalamazoo Aquatic Club, (KAC). I thought the crowd was scary. I saw tie die t-shirts proclaiming, ‘I’m greatfully deadicated to swimming.’

Now: Older swimmers wear holey suits layered upon layer–teen boys with shredded, baggy, faded shorts atop floral speedos–still scary.

In Xay’s age group, all the boys wear jammers (think bike shorts minus the padding).

Most of the (non-black) parents are too tan–very fit–with firm legs. Swimmers, too?

Everybody–even little kids in the 2ft section of the pool–can swim.

Cheering our kids on like prize racehorses–or greyhounds.

They keep going. Even after everyone else has exited the pool. Gotta feel like you accomplished something just finishing. Until they hand out medals and trophies to 1st, 2nd, and 3rd. And you finished #41–on your best race.

Boo.

Keep up the grind, the training? The anerobic threshold? We’re considerably more relaxed this year than in the past–2-3 practices a week, when it used to be 4. Should do at least 5. . .

Our kids look great–toned, they can swim well–fearlessly–and don’t win at meets. Now what? I get swept up in the meet culture. Now these people are my people. Maybe I should compete. . .

I knew that WMU has open swim hours for the public on the weekends, and it’s only $2. It was just a matter of scheduling. I decided I’d go this past weekend, and I asked Curtis when he was available to watch the children. He said Saturday would work for him, so shortly after 5 P.M. on Saturday, I was off to WMU.

I had enrolled Yanni and Xay in swimming lessons there several years ago, and I knew the pool was twice as big as the usual pools I swim in, and it is deeper, too. It is also the only pool in the area with a high dive. I thought I better not try it with a bun in the oven; swimming 2000 yards would be challenging enough.

I was apprehensive that I’d have to swim 50s rather than 25s, but the pool was divided by a large bulkhead. A lot of pre-teens in bikinis occupied the diving area, trying out the high dive as often as they could. I was surprised to see that most of the pool was full of families, pool toys, and noodles. I thought this was lap swim, not just open swim. I would have taken Yanni or Xay with me if I’d known that.

There were two small lanes set up for lap swimming, and I had to join someone already swimming. I was a little nervous sharing such a narrow lane, but it worked out, and she exited the pool not too far into my set. I swam the whole lane for a while, when a young man came in and asked if he could swim in my lane. I looked over, and there were three people in the other lane, so I said, sure. I was really apprehensive swimming butterfly or elementary back stroke with someone else in the lane; I didn’t want to hit them with flailing limbs, or anything. But, he left before I was done as well, and I was able to practice my flip turns with no one else in the lane.

By the last 400 yards, I felt like I really had to go to the bathroom, but I made myself stick it out until I’d swum a full 2000. It felt slightly longer than that to me. I wonder if the pool is in meters?

Anyway, I usually break down the *yardage*. I’ll try it here. I swam:
200 free
200 back
200 breast
100 IM
100 cool down
100 IM
100 cool down
100 IM
100 cool down
100 IM
100 cool down
100 IM
100 cool down
100 free
100 back
25 free
25 back
25 free
25 back
25 free
25 back
25 free
25 back

By the time I exited the pool, free swim only had 5 minutes left. I was glad I got there when I did!

Curtis parked outside the pool with the laptop and periodically watched me swim. I decided to add 100 yards, bringing my total yardage to 2000. Here’s what I swam:
200 free, 200 back, 200 breast, 200 IM, 100 cooldown, 100 IM, 100 cooldown, 100 IM, 100 cooldown, 100 IM, 100 cooldown, 100 IM, 100 cooldown, 100 back, 100 free, 50 back, 25 free, 25 back.

I was excited to make progress on my flip turns. They weren’t as embarassing, and some were even pretty good. I also noticed that I am having an easier time swimming freestyle. I wonder if I’m more bouyant with my baby belly? I also find it harder to do the butterfly because of the belly. I would like to try to swim at least once a week–at WMU, which is only $2.00 for an adult.