A Swim Down Memory Lane

There was a time when swimming was my life.

I spent two to four hours a day in the pool, depending on the season. My hair turned to straw, and my skin sweated chlorine, even when I was dry. I felt more comfortable in Lycra than corduroy. I swam in junior high, high school and college. I was in the best shape of my life, and when it all ended, I was so burned out that I never wanted to swim again. At least not in a pool. Not with stopwatches, splits and sets.

It’s been 15 years now, and the sound of my coach’s screaming has faded to an occasional flashback. It’s not that I never get in the pool. I do. But I never really push myself like during my swim team days. And I miss feeling fast and sleek as a mermaid. With summer here, and warm bikini days ahead, I long for that toned all-over workout that regular swimming provides. So last week I decided to attend a masters swim workout at the Stuart M. Ketchum Downtown YMCA in Los Angeles. Many YMCAs and sports clubs have masters swim teams. Some teams compete in a masters circuit; others are mostly an opportunity for someone to work out harder than they would on their own, with the camaraderie of a team practice.

At the Ketchum Y, the masters team practices from 6:30 to 8 a.m. Monday, Wednesday and Friday, and from 7 to 8:30 p.m. Thursday. Three of the four days swimmers work out independently, following a workout plan that is posted by the pool. On Wednesdays, the coach turns up, to hound the swimmers and put a little fear in the soul.

I got nervous thinking about it.

I arrived at 6:30 a.m. and no one was there. The lifeguard said the masters swimmers usually drift in a little later.

“Doesn’t look too hard,” he commented. “You just have to be consistent.”

Finally, around 6:45 a.m. an obvious swimmer wandered in and picked out every accessory possible--kickboard, pull buoy, paddles and mini-flippers.

She introduced herself, and we shared a lane. She said the coach usually arrived around 7.

The workout plan was up on the wall: 3,600 yards (about two miles)! More than I had done since college. We started out with 600-yard warmups, 200 yards of freestyle, 200 kicking, 200 pulling. It was fun to have someone next to me, a companion to blow bubbles at as I powered down the lane and through my clumsy flip turns.

Finally, we hit the core of the workout: 20 x 50 yards, individual medley order, which means butterfly, backstroke, breaststroke and freestyle. That was followed by a second set of 20 x 50-yard freestyle. Butterfly used to be my stroke. I started swimming so I could learn to swim butterfly. I used to stand in front of my bedroom mirror as a child, practicing getting my double kick to match my arms--just like my swim coach ordered.

We did first one, then a second set of individual medleys. I was feeling good, skimming over the water. By the third set, though, I could barely get my arms out of the water on the butterfly. The stroke works when you are strong, but it falls apart when you are weak, sliding from graceful and smooth, like a dolphin, to jerky and convulsive, like a panicked bird.

That’s when our coach, Nora Wei Yue Zhong, appeared on the deck, stopwatch in hand.

Zhong is a former swimmer for the Chinese National Team and also swam for USC. She has been coaching the masters group for 18 months and said two to four swimmers attend the masters swim workout regularly. Others drop in occasionally. Some swimmers want to get fit; some are training for ocean swimming events or triathlons. Zhong said few of her masters swimmers at the downtown Y are former competitive swimmers.

“They are just people who want to swim faster and have me help their strokes and give them feedback,” Zhong said. “It is really for fitness purposes, not for any competitive reasons.”

But of course competition plays into the workout, which is precisely why it is so much more effective than working out on your own.

Zhong timed us as we swam against each other and the clock. There is nothing like someone standing over you, and calling out your times, to make you swim faster. It is an unbelievable motivator.

Nora called out our times every 50 yards. When we stroked in panting for air, she got us off the wall and paddling hard into the next 50. Almost immediately I was so overheated I could barely see out of my goggles. But there was no slacking off. No hanging on the walls.

My arms were dragging on all my strokes. My lane-mate was leaving me in the dust.

Between 50s Nora offered critiques on our strokes. “Good butterfly,” she said. “Roll your shoulders more on the backstroke. Pull your shoulders forward more on the breaststroke. Like this.” She stood above me and demonstrated how it should work.

My times seemed to be going up five seconds every 50 yards. I tried to remind myself that you can’t compare your 35-year-old corporate desk-bound self to your life as a college athlete. Still, it was a sobering reminder of age, fitness and how rarely I really push myself. My strokes are still smooth--no competitive swimmer ever loses their stroke completely--but I lose strength quickly.

I pushed and pushed, and swam for an hour. I couldn’t even finish the workout. My tired arms scraped the water like paddles; my goggles were so steamy I was swimming blind. I swam a few cool-down laps and sat slumped on the edge of the pool like a ball of mozzarella, while the masters class regulars powered by me. I didn’t even know if I could make it to the showers.

The lifeguard was right. It didn’t look hard. But it would take at least a month to become consistent.

I ate my second breakfast at 8 a.m. (Swimming is the one sport that gives me an immediate appetite, rather than suppressing it.) When I got to work at 8:30 a.m. I could sit still and concentrate with uncharacteristic focus. I didn’t even need coffee.

My arms and shoulders were sore the next morning, but I felt like an athlete again. For a day.

*

Hilary MacGregor can be reached by e-mail at hilary.macgregor@latimes.com.