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Published
in Gulf News, March 16, 2006
Different strokes
When
I finish my swim, I often linger by the pool, people watching. As
with waterholes in the wild, the variety of characters drawn to
the average swimming pool is astounding.
There
are all levels of ability on display. All body types. People who
are aware of others around them. People who don't care and get in
everybody's way.
Once
in a while, like a beautiful migratory bird, a competitive swimmer
visits. She (it's usually a she) stands briefly at the edge of a
pool - long limbs, narrow waist and huge, powerful shoulders. She
dives into the water with a whisper, emerging halfway down the pool.
You hardly know when she starts to swim - it's so effortless. There's
a little splash as she does a tumble turn at the end and speeds
back. It's almost as awe-inspiring as seeing dolphins in the wild.
Sadly,
her kind rarely stays long. More often there is a parade of people
who look as if they've had limbs broken at random before being tossed
into the pool to scrabble to the other side.
Sometimes
there are earnest swimmers of average ability who arrive with a
range of floats, paddles and fins and do lap after tireless lap
in a multitude of variations. Then there are the show-offs in competition
suits who spend most of the workout sitting in the water and bragging
about lap times before asking the coach to time them over one explosive
length.
At
four in the afternoon, the school gates open and the rush of children
starts. This is usually the cue for the lap swimmers to leave, unless
they enjoy a live, watery version of Frogger.
As
children, we'd swim a few laps and then while away the afternoon
diving for coins or playing endless rounds of a noisy game called
Marco Polo. These days, the children run industriously around the
pool to warm up before getting in and swimming laps. They use kickboards
to churn up and down like little motorboats. They do swimming drills
in groups by the poolside.
But,
as always, there's a little fellow (it's usually a he) who refuses
to let go of the side of the pool as he screams over and over: "I
don't want to learn how to swim."
Watching
all this, I often think about what an honest recreation swimming
is. Swimmers have nothing to hide and, anyway, there's no place
to hide it. There's little or no high technology to depend on. (At
least, until Speedo came up with its highly engineered shark-skin
body suit.)
Even
so, technology has had an influence. The breast stroke my mother
learned is completely different from the one swum today. Even the
old favourite - freestyle - has been changed over the years.
Many
changes came when coaches started using physics in their favour.
For a long time swimmers tried to increase speed by increasing power
and strength. The benefits were not impressive. Then somebody remembered
that to double speed you have to quadruple power, but only halve
drag. Strokes now keep the exponential relationship on their side
by focussing on reducing drag. For instance, the glide time underwater
in breast stroke has increased dramatically. Freestyle uses a more
body roll than before - keeping more of the body away from the surface,
where drag is highest.
This
is why I love swimming and watching swimming. It's technology of
flesh and blood. Of course, when watching the overzealous inept,
it's just plain funny. Which brings us to the question: which of
the swim types I've mentioned am I? I won't tell you. Swimming may
be honest, but it's not that honest.
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