BreastStroke Revisited

Playing on the iPod: Something from "Celtic River" - sounds like "Irish Rover"
Meters swum today: 1400

Well, folks, it's officially been a year since I started swimming with Dallas Aquatic Masters. I remember because I came in on Breast Stroke Month (which I thought was some porno thing) and now here it is again. Wow. One year in the water.

For the record, breaststroke is like the weirdest stroke in the pool. I'm a butterfly gal myself (move over, Michael Phelps, and take your wingspan with you). It's slow (how do they race with this thing?) and the leg motion is probably the least efficient way to maneuver through the water that has yet been invented but a lot of people like it. I guess it's okay. It's just not violent and noisy like butterfly. As a fan of Stiff Little Fingers, I like violent noisy things.

Aside: We can thank SLF for creating an entirely new category of music for Joan. Formerly she had but two: that which she liked, and that which didn't make her run screaming from the room. SLF makes her run screaming from the room. Way to go, boys. Keep on growling.

Anyway, the breast stroke kick is done as follows: From lying flat on the surface of the water, pull your knees under and forward until they're at roughly butt level. Then kick out your feet in a pigeon-toed manner whilst keeping your knees together. Then, and only then, do you spread your legs to do the rest of the kick like a frog. If you're having trouble visualizing this, it's because it makes no logical sense. I mean, watch a frog. Does he worry about where his feet are? Whether they are pointed in our out? No. He just frickin' kicks with 'em. But anyway, if you do it right, you will have these nice little aches running up and down the outsides of your calves for the rest of the day, probably from forcing your feet into that pigeon-toey motion.

Oh, I forgot, you're supposed to do the frog kick part of the kick at the exact same moment you're pushing your arms out and around. If you can time it exactly,you'll scoot across the pool like a water skeeter on steroids. If you're me, though, you do the kick first and then the arm thing, and instead of scooting like a skeeter you kind of, I dunno, lurch like a lumbering lycanthrope. (Do werewolves swim? Probably. To be honest, though, I just threw that in there to keep the alliteration flowing.)

Well, maybe I'll get better at it. My calves are aching on the outside, for one thing. And speaking of wolves, Joan and Kellum and Suzy and I are going down to The Woodlands on Saturday to get up close and personal with a few of 'em. I'll send pictures.