10 mile swim

It isn't far to swim when you have friends waiting at the end.


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On Fat Thighs

I have fat thighs. They are permanent. I know this because some time ago I injured my jaw and had difficulty eating. I lost a lot of weight; my hipbones and collarbone stuck out, and my face became thin. It was all very interesting until it became scary. But during the whole experience, my fat thighs did not budge. It was then that I realized there was nothing to be done about my fat thighs except to love them. They are with me for the long haul.

Swimming may be the only sport that rewards fat thighs. The number one problem I see in the swimmers around me is that their legs sink. From the next lane, these swimmers look like they are riding a bicycle, their legs much lower in the water than their torso. You can work to improve your body position, of course. But you have to admit, it’s much easier to position your body correctly when you have the advantage of fat thighs floating your back end up.

This is why so many people actually swim faster with a pull buoy stuck between their thighs. It seems impossible: shouldn’t immobilizing a swimmer’s legs slow them down? But the pull buoy compensates for their dragging legs, bringing their body into a more efficient position.

I never use pull buoys. My fat thighs keep my legs up.

Pullbuoy

This is a pull buoy. You stick it between your legs for pull sets. I never use them. Photo from Wikipedia Commons.

So this is a shout out to all my people with fat thighs. Don’t listen to those who tell you to hate your body. Your thighs are your strength. Make the most of your natural advantages. Come swim with me.

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An American Swimmer in London, Part 2: The London Aquatics Centre and the Ladies’ Bathing Pond at Hampstead Heath

A few years ago, I learned that the pool for the 2012 London Olympics had reopened as a public swimming facility, the London Aquatics Centre. And I began stalking it online. I didn’t send it threatening emails or anything like that. But every once in a while, I’d go to the website and look at the photos, check the schedule, maybe review the prices. I’d plug the address into Google Maps and see where it was located and figure out how I could get there on public transportation — all perfectly normal behavior for a person living 4000 miles away from London.

Of course, when I went to London for a month in fall 2017, swimming at the London Aquatics Centre was very high on my list of things to do. I swam three times at the LAC, and each time it was fantastic: it is both an incredible world-class pool and an accessible public facility.

First, getting there: I was staying in central London, and I had originally planned to take the Underground to Stratford (special note for Shakespeare fans: this is Stratford in East London, not Stratford-upon-Avon). A knowledgeable friend told me to take the Javelin train instead. It was easy; you get the train at St Pancras and take it one stop to Stratford: seven minutes on the 140 mph train. You can use your Oyster card. Then follow the signs to the London Aquatics Centre.

At the time I went, one swim at the LAC cost £5 for an adult. You need a pound coin for the locker, but you’ll get that coin back. There is one large all-genders changing room, with cubicles for privacy.

I did two things wrong before getting in the pool. First, I tried to take a photo on deck. The lifeguard very politely told me that photos were not allowed on deck. That is a good rule, and I should have asked if photos were permitted before I tried to take one. Second, I tried to take my towel on deck. Another lifeguard very politely told me that towels are not allowed on deck. That is a weirder rule, but I was not going to argue with him. I left my eyeglasses in their hard shell case by the side of the pool, and they were fine.

In spite of my gaffes, I made it into the water. And after stalking the pool for years, I was not disappointed. I have a tiny bit of experience with quality competition pools, but this pool is on a higher level. The water is clear and deep and calm. The pool design minimizes waves, so even though there were multiple people in every lane, I felt as if I were swimming alone. The pool is set up for long course, 50m. I picked a center lane and pretended I was Katie Ledecky winning the gold in the 800.

meLAC

Me, taking a post-swim selfie from the gallery at the LAC. October 2017.

LAC

The view of the London Aquatics Centre pool from the gallery. You can take photos from the gallery, not from the deck. My photo. October 2017.

I saw people of all ages and abilities in that pool, plus a bunch of children taking lessons in the warmup pool. If you find yourself in London without your swim gear, you can buy everything you need there for reasonable prices. They even have a vending machine that sells goggles. If you are a swimmer and you are in London, get yourself to this pool.


The London Aquatics Centre is the new must-do swim experience in London. The bathing ponds at Hampstead Heath are the classic must-do swim experience. People have been swimming there for over 200 years. They are an institution.

For all the times I had been in London, I had never been to the bathing ponds before. I once swam at a surprisingly cold Parliament Hill Lido, also at Hampstead Heath; I mention it here. But the bathing ponds are not really my style. You don’t swim in the bathing ponds in the way I usually swim. You bathe there. You take a dip. It’s like the difference between running and going for a walk in the park: swimming at the London Aquatics Centre is like going for a run, while swimming at the bathing ponds is like going for a stroll.

But I don’t mind strolling. Strolling is a fine activity. And I was in London; my free time was my own. I thought that I would go experience the bathing ponds.

bathingpond

The sign for the Ladies’ Pond. My photo. October 2017.

I made it out to Hampstead Heath at the end of October, taking the bus. There are three bathing ponds, the Men’s, the Ladies’, and the Mixed, but since the Mixed Pond was closed for the winter season, the Ladies’ Pond was my option. I found the sign, went through the gate, paid my £2 at the ticket machine, and made my way back to the changing area. A chalkboard said the water temperature was 11° C, 52° F. I thought two things: it was kind of them to put the temperature in Fahrenheit as well as Celsius, and that’s really cold.

But I am older and wiser than I was at the time I nearly froze at the Parliament Hill Lido. I asked a woman in the changing room how long she thought a first timer should go in, and she suggested that 10 minutes would be enough.

There were three or four women in the pond when I got there, plus assorted ducks. The women were circling around, swimming breaststroke with their heads above the water. One was wearing a wooly hat.

I got in slowly, using the ladder. Not to be melodramatic, but cold water shock can kill you, and I did not intend to die in a pond in London. Then I started my own slow circle of breaststroke.

At first the water burned, but as I swam I become numb and relaxed. I stuck my head under, telling myself “Don’t swallow the water!” and promptly swallowed a mouthful of water. I swam a little freestyle. I swam a little breaststroke. I floated on on my back and looked up at the blue sky. After about 10 minutes, the lifeguard called out to two women who had been in the water before me, saying that they had been in long enough. I followed them out soon after.

In the changing room I took a shower. Other swimmers told me to fill a basin with warm water and stick my feet in it, but, unfortunately, the water was not warm that day. I got dressed quickly, pulled on my own wooly hat, and headed for the nearest cup of tea at Kenwood House, my feet completely numb as I walked up the hill.

I slowly thawed in a corner of the tea room, nursing my tea, surrounded by families having a Saturday out. I am not convinced that I need to swim in the bathing ponds again, but I don’t regret going. It was a must-do, and I have done it.


You can learn more about the experience of being an American swimmer in London (including discussions of jelly doughnuts and breaststroke) here: An American Swimmer in London, Part 1: The Oasis Sports Centre.

 


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How to Design an Ultramarathon Swim Workout

I am in training for a four day, four lake, 40 mile open water swim challenge in April. Due to factors beyond my control (i.e. I am not independently wealthy), I do 90% or more of my training for ultramarathon length open water swims in pools. That’s a lot of swimming in a small box of water. How do you design very long workouts for the pool?

An ultra length distance pool workout has to be satisfying for your mind and your body. Swimming seven miles straight in a pool is not going to make you happy. And simply multiplying your regular workouts by some factor is not good either: a 20 x 50 yard set is fine, but a 200 x 50 yard set (or a 20 x 500 yard set) is monotonous. In addition, swimming nothing but free (front crawl) for hours and hours is hard on your shoulders; I like to have some stroke work and drills in my workouts to give my shoulders a break.

When designing a very long workout, I keep two things in mind: structure and variety. Structure makes clear where you are in the workout. Variety keeps your mind engaged.

I love to swim pyramids. You increase the distance of each unit by even increments up to some point, and then you decrease back down. It’s useful to know that 100 + 200 + 300 + 400 + 500 + 600 + 700 + 800 + 900 = 4500. The last time I swam 10,000 yards, I did it like this:

100 free
200 pull
300 kick
400: 4 x 100 w/a moving stroke 25 (25 back, 75 free; 25 free, 25 back, 50 free; etc.)
500 free
600: 2 x (200 free + 100 back)
700 pull
800: 8×100 alternate IM and free
900: 300 swim, 300 kick, 300 swim
1000 swim
Repeat backward, starting with the 900 and decreasing down to the 100.

It was a great 10,000 yard workout; I always knew how far along I was, and the whole thing flew by. If you add a second 1000 free in the middle, you have a 11,000 yard or meter workout.

Pyramid of Khufu

Pyramids are inherently satisfying. Image from Wikipedia Commons.

If I can’t work out a nice pyramid for my distance, I like doing sets of some standard distance with variation within each set. So, a 12,000 yard/meter set could be 6 x 2000:

1st 2000: 500 swim, 500 pull, 500 swim, 500 kick
2nd 2000: 8 x 250 ladders (each 250: 100, rest 5 sec, 75, rest 5 sec, etc.)
3rd 2000: (6 x (200 free + 100 back)) + 200 free
4th 2000: 500 swim, 500 pull, 500 swim, 500 kick
5th 2000: 10 x broken 200s (each 200: 100, rest 10 sec, 50, rest 5 sec, 50)
6th 2000: 4 x 500 (each 500: 4 x (25 stroke + 100 free))

Or I do the beads-on-a-string workout, alternating sets of different sizes (big bead, little bead, big bead, little bead, etc.). Here is a 13,000 yard workout, made up of 2000 yard sets with 200 yard kick in between:

1st 2000: 500 swim, 500 pull, 500 swim, 500 pull
200 kick
2nd 2000: 6 x (200 free + 100 back) + 200 free
200 kick
3rd 2000: 8 x 250 ladders (each 100, 5 sec, 75, 5 sec, etc.)
200 kick
4th 2000: 20 x 100 alternating IMs and free
200 kick
5th 2000: 10 x broken 200s (each 200: 100, 10 sec, 50, 5 sec, 50)
200 kick
6th 2000: 500 pull, 500 swim, 500 pull, 500 swim

These last two workouts won’t give you the feeling of rolling downhill in the second half like a pyramid structure does, but you always know where you are in them. And you can play with fractions and percentages in your mind as you swim if you enjoy that kind of thing. I enjoy that kind of thing.

I’ve got a lot of swimming to do, and I’m always looking for new structures and sets. Please leave your suggestions in the comments.


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An American Swimmer in London, Part 1: The Oasis Sports Centre

This fall I spent a month in London for work. Before I left, I told a friend at the pool that I’d be away for a while. She said, “You’ll miss swimming while you’re gone.” And I said, “Like hell I will.” London is a swimmer’s city; there are opportunities to swim everywhere, from ponds to the Olympic pool, and I swam every chance I had.

In my mind, if you really want to understand how a place works, you need to eat there, and you need to swim there. You might think that with globalization every place is the same, with the same coffee shops on every corner. But one day in London, I stopped in a coffee shop and saw a man eating a jelly doughnut with a knife and fork. I watched him in amazement. You would never see an American eat a jelly doughnut with a knife and fork.

Maybe people eat jelly doughnuts in coffee shops all over the world. But we eat them differently.

And we swim differently too. England is a nation of breaststrokers. The pools are full of people swimming breaststroke, lap after lap of it. I met multiple people who swim nothing but breaststroke. As an American, I was amazed. Our pools are full of people swimming front crawl — freestyle.

From the perspective of the American swimmer, the most alarming difference between English pools and American ones is in the practice of circle swimming. In the U.S. we share lanes by swimming counterclockwise: up on the right side of the lane, back on the right side of the lane. This way of swimming is so ingrained that it would never occur to me to circle swim in any other way. But in England (and in Ireland, and for all I know in other places too), lanes are designated as clockwise or anti-clockwise, and you’d better be darn sure of the direction of a lane before you get in it.

clockwisesigns

Look for these signs. READ THESE SIGNS. Photo from Priscilla Alcalde Melo

Swimsuits are different in England too — or, more accurately, the suits are the same, but they mean different things. If you see a man wearing a speedo (swim brief) in the U.S., you know that’s a man who knows how to swim; in the U.S. a speedo is the sign of competitive swimming experience. On the other hand, if you see a man wearing a swim brief in England, you know almost nothing; all you know is that’s a man who owns a very small swimsuit.

Sometimes you only find out what your cultural assumptions are when they are not met. A man eats a doughnut with a knife and fork. A swimmer swims down the left side of the lane. And suddenly the world contains more possibilities than you knew.


I spent most of my swimming time in London at the Oasis Sports Centre, in the center of London. It was fifteen minutes’ walk from my hotel, and most days I could get there and back before I needed to get to work.

Here is the extraordinary thing about Oasis: it has an outdoor heated pool. It’s on the roof. I swam daily under the November sky, barely three blocks from the British Museum. On icy cold mornings, when mist floats over the warm pool, it’s almost too good to be real.

The one difficulty with the Oasis Sports Centre is that it is frequently crowded, with 7-8 adults sharing a lane. In a crowded lane, I return to my default settings: I swim like a swim team kid. When I see feet in front of me, I want to catch them, and I want to pass them. I want to lead the lane.

Day after day, I swam like I was ten years old again. It probably wasn’t good for my stroke technique, but it was a lot of fun.

Oasis has two pools: one inside and one outside. All things being equal, I would always choose to swim outside, but on days when I had to be somewhere early, I hurried for a quick swim in the indoor pool: it opened on weekdays at 6:30 AM, while the outdoor pool opened a half hour later. Both pools have three lanes, marked slow, medium, and fast. The indoor pool is 25 meters long, the outdoor 30 yards long. The lifeguards will tell you that the outdoor pool is 27.5 meters long, but if you can keep track of your distance in multiples of 27.5 while trying to sprint around slower swimmers and avoid colliding with people coming the other way, then you have better math skills than I do. Easier to multiply by 30.

When I was there in fall 2017, a swim was £5.80. You need a 20p coin for the locker. The locker will keep that coin, so start hoarding 20p coins if you plan to swim there frequently. There’s no soap or shampoo, but the showers were better than the one in my hotel room. And you swim outside in the middle of London. You can’t ask for more.


Oasis was my home pool in London, but I did swim in other places. Read about the London Aquatics Centre and the Ladies’ Bathing Pond at Hampstead Heath here.


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The 40 (or so) Mile Swim: Training for SCAR Swim 2018

I am officially in training for SCAR Swim 2018. I have been thinking about swimming SCAR since I found myself next to the organizer right before Swim the Suck 2015. We were in line, standing in the parking lot in our bare feet and our swimsuits, and he was explaining to me about how to train for cold water when you live in a warm climate. He told me to get a horse trough, fill it with water and ice, and sit in it. And I thought, “This is my kind of crazy person.”

The acronym SCAR stands for Saguaro, Canyon, Apache, and Roosevelt, four lakes on the Salt River in Arizona. The challenge is four days, four lakes, 40 (or so) miles. There are two important things embedded in that last sentence. First, it’s a challenge, not a race: no one wins anything but the joy of swimming. Second, it’s 40 miles, give or take. As the FAQ says, “There is nothing ‘official’ about the swim distances of these lakes other than it’s from buoy to buoy . . . If you are overly concerned about the distance you are missing the point of the swims.”

These really are my kind of crazy people.

Here’s the plan for getting ready for SCAR:

1) Increasing my distance. I continue to swim five days a week, most weeks, but one of those days is now a long swim, and I’m steadily lengthening that long swim by 1000 yards a week. Right now, I’m up to 12,000 yards.

I’ve bought myself a 10-swim pass so that I can swim the long swim at the pool that used to be Westside but is now Greenville County Aquatic Complex. The sessions at my home pool are not long enough for me to get in that kind of distance.

2) Yoga. I feel I need more strength and more flexibility, and that means I need yoga. I’ve been going to a studio in town that allows you to pay by the class, and I get myself to two classes a week. Once my university starts back up for the spring semester, I can take yoga there too.

It’s fascinating how the yoga poses I couldn’t do when I was in college are the same yoga poses I can’t do now. It takes a person back.

3) Getting used to cold water. This is the most difficult thing for me to do. I’m expecting water in the low 60s to low 70s F (16 to 22 C), and my pools are too warm while my lakes are too cold.

I have been taking cold baths twice weekly; they are not a lot of fun, but they aren’t unbearable. I take the temperature of the bath water, set a timer, and get in, muttering, “The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step,” over and over as I settle down into the water.

It is much more fun to go swim in a lake. Thanks to my husband, who agreed to be my driver and lifeguard, I went out yesterday. I had been watching the forecast and the water temperature in Lake Hartwell and decided that yesterday was going to be one of the warmest days we’d have for a while. So we drove out there and took the temperature with my nifty new infrared thermometer: 56.2 F.

I am not a natural at this. It was very cold getting in. But as I swam all the joy of open water swimming flooded back. It was a relief. It’s so much better than sitting in a cold bathtub. All told, I was in the water about 25 minutes and swam three-quarters of a mile. Then I got out, wrapped up with a warm drink, and shivered most of the way home.

I’ve just got to find a way to make this happen regularly.

23Dec2017

That’s me: pink cap with my swim float trailing behind. 56° F water. Lake Hartwell. Dec 2017. Photo by T the husband.

4) Eating well. I have always been of the mind that I swim a lot so that I can eat what I want. I eat reasonably healthy food, but I don’t begrudge myself some junk food.

However, we’re talking now about preparing for a four day swimming challenge. I have to be able to get up and swim the second day, and the third day, and the fourth day. Usually the day after I swim a long distance is a day I do a lot of eating: in this challenge, I’ll have to stay fueled for four days.

For now, I’m making sure I am getting more protein and fewer added sugars. I’m making tofu milkshakes and eating more nuts and nut butters. I’m eating a lot of broccoli and hummus. I like broccoli and hummus. It’s not a sacrifice.

For later, I’m trying out different kinds of sports nutrition products designed for consumption during an event. I ordered a variety, and I’m waiting for them to come in the mail. I can try them during my one long swim a week.

And one more thing —

5) More butterfly. I’d slacked off swimming butterfly for a while. In fact, I stopped completely; I was in London for a month, and I was swimming in crowded pools that were not good places for butterfly: too easy to hit someone (see How to Share a Lane).

But butterfly does two things: it protects your shoulders, and it builds your character. And I’m going to need strong shoulders and strong character for this swim, even if I don’t do a stroke of butterfly in it. So I’m back to butterfly — in every workout from here on out.

These are my plans for SCAR Swim, April 25-28, 2017: increased distance, lots of yoga, cold water acclimation, better food, and more butterfly. I’m open to suggestions. Please leave your advice in the comments.


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Race Report: USMS Ultramarathon Distance OW Championship 2017 (Swimming for Refugees, Part 2)

On June 4, I swam 9.2 miles in the Tennessee River in the USMS Ultramarathon Distance Open Water Championship. The current was fast, the scenery was beautiful, and I raised over $3000 for HIAS. But what I really want to tell you about is the rainbow.

In seven or eight years of open water swimming, I had never seen a rainbow from the water. It was way high up and a bit behind us in the second mile or so, just a little piece of the arc. When I saw it, I yelled to B, my kayaker, “There’s a rainbow.” He didn’t see it. He said something about my goggles. I pointed up at the sky emphatically. He nodded. Later he told me that he never saw the rainbow; he didn’t want me to waste time arguing. He’s a sensible man and a good kayaker. But I saw the rainbow. It was there.

When I was a little kid, I didn’t believe in rainbows. To be more accurate, I believed there were rainbows, but I thought the neat arcs I saw in children’s books were artists’ exaggerations of the real thing. There are lots of things pictured in children’s books that aren’t exactly real: bears cooking breakfast, dogs driving convertibles, you know. I had seen sunrises and sunsets, and I thought rainbows were like them: big areas of color, not perfect bands curving across the sky. So the first time I saw a real rainbow, I was impressed. And I’m still impressed.

The thing about rainbows is that they seem like should be impossible: how can something like that be real? But rainbows aren’t impossible, and they aren’t magic: they are sunlight passing through raindrops. And swimming 9.2 miles? That isn’t impossible either, and it sure isn’t magic: you work hard, and you get your friends to help you, and then you go out on a Sunday morning and do it.


I was anxious going into the swim on Sunday. The forecast was terrible, the worst possible swimming weather: thunderstorms due to start in the middle of the swim. On the bus taking us to the swim start, I heard a man describing being pulled off a course because of lightning. On the walk down to the water, I heard a woman saying that she’d left shoes with her kayaker in case we had to get out in poison ivy. I didn’t want to be pulled out of the water, and I didn’t want to walk through poison ivy. More than anything, I didn’t want to tell the many people who had donated to HIAS in support of my swim that I hadn’t finished because of lightning.

But when I saw the rainbow in the second mile, I thought, Maybe the weather will hold. And it did.

The whole swim went well. First, B the kayaker and I found each other easily. The start is always difficult in this kind of race; you have to find your kayaker in the midst of chaos. But B and I had our not-so-secret weapon — the big yellow duckie — and when I saw that duck strapped to his kayak, I headed right for it.

The yellow duck, ready to go! Photo by B the kayaker, June 2017.

Second, the course was clear and beautiful. We started out under a series of bridges in downtown Chattanooga and then headed around the big turn in the river at Moccasin Bend and ended down river at the Baylor School. B and I had gone up Lookout Mountain, which looks out over Moccasin Bend, and seen the course from above the day before, so I had a good sense of how far along we were at any time in the race.

My arm (left foreground), with mountain. Photo by B the kayaker, June 2017.

And finally, the current was fast. I swam 9.2 miles in a bit over 2.5 hours, and I wasn’t anywhere near the front of the pack. In comparison, I swam Swim the Suck –10 miles in the same river — at a bit over 3.5 hours in 2015 and a bit over 4.5 hours in 2016. We were so fast that when we got to the finish, the race organizer announced apologetically that the pizza was still on its way: we’d outswum our lunch!

Coming into the well-marked finish! Photo by B the kayaker, June 2017.

But it wasn’t long before the pizza appeared, and it was good pizza with a kale salad that I dumped on the top of my two huge slices and ate as a topping. I didn’t bother with a fork; it was only going to slow me down.

This race was new, and the course had not been swum as an organized event before. But I knew that Karah Nazor was the organizer, and I was confident that it would be a well-run event. I was not disappointed. Karah and her crew know what they are doing. I’d love to come back and swim it again.


So far, I have raised over $3000 for HIAS, the international refugee agency of the American Jewish community. The Greenville News ran a front page story about my swim the Saturday before the event, online here: Furman professor to swim to help refugees: ‘I know what happens when we don’t help refugees.’ There is video as well, if you would like to hear and see me in motion: Swimming to raise money for refugees. Finally, HIAS posted about the swim on their blog: Going the Distance for Refugees. Literally.

My fundraising page is still open, and the need is still urgent.: 65 million people, just like me and you, in search of freedom and safety. Please consider donating. Thank you to all who have already contributed!


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How to Swim 500 Miles a Year

For the past three years (2104, 2015, and 2016), I have swum over 500 miles a year. It’s hard to articulate why. It’s not as if when I was a child I dreamed of being the kind of crazy person who swims 500 miles a year. But that’s the kind of crazy person I turned out to be. And if you think you might be that kind of crazy person too, here’s my advice on how to do it.

Let me note that I have two advantages. First, I work at a university with a pool. That means that most of the time I just have to get out of my office and walk across campus to swim (walking across campus is easy; getting out of the office is hard). Second, I have a lot of control over my schedule. I don’t have infinite flexibility, but I have more power to decide when I do things than some people do.

On the other hand, my life is not simple. I have a full-time job, two kids, a dog, and regular volunteer commitments. I have things going on. I’m sure you do too. So how do you get to 500 miles a year?

1) Put swimming on the schedule, and make it mandatory.

There are some things that I have do at certain times. For example, I have to teach my classes at their scheduled times. Teaching class at its scheduled time is mandatory. I do not schedule meetings, student conferences, medical appointments, haircuts, or anything else during the time I teach.

In the same way, during the school year I swim at the pool at lunchtime. Swimming at that time is mandatory. I do not schedule meetings, student conferences, medical appointments, haircuts, or anything else during the time I swim.

Last summer, I was coaching swim team on weekday mornings starting at 8 am. I got to the pool every morning at 6:15 to swim a couple miles before the children arrived. That was the only time I could swim, so that was when I did it. Every day.

Put swimming on the schedule, and make it mandatory.

2) Make alternative plans.

Sometimes (heaven help me) I have to go to a lunch meeting. Or I have a university event or a conference out of town or maybe even a vacation. That does not mean I don’t swim. I figure out another way.

In 2015, our pool shut down unexpectedly and without warning. The Powers That Be arranged for us to swim for free at a nearby pool, which was terrific. Unfortunately, that pool’s open swim hours were not the same as our open swim hours. I rescheduled everything I could. I made it to lap swim at that pool, every day, until our pool reopened.

When I went to Vancouver for a combination work trip/vacation, I swam at the Kitsilano Beach pool. When the family went to Disney in Orlando for my in-laws’ 50th anniversary, we swam at Lucky’s Lake Swim (it helps to marry into a family of swimmers). I’ve swum at public pools and health center pools and various Ys, not to mention some lakes and the occasional ocean, in the U.S., Canada, England, and Ireland.

I have written about travel swimming before; my quick advice is to pack a suit, a cap, goggles, flip-flops, a lock, and a towel. Bring your second-best towel, just in case.

The point is, you will inevitably run into problems. Don’t give up. Find another time to swim; find another place to swim. Make alternative plans.

3) Trust the swimming.

There are days when I don’t want to swim. There are days when I don’t have time to swim. You know what I do on those days? I go swimming anyway.

I have found that the days that I don’t want to swim and I don’t have time to swim are the days when swimming helps me the most. I think better when I swim. I work better when I swim. I am a better person when I swim.

Don’t debate with yourself about whether you should go swimming. Just go. Get up wherever you are, and head toward the water. Trust the swimming.


There are obstacles that can keep a person from swimming. I have experienced some of them. I had a period of time when I could not swim, in the sense that my doctor told me, “You cannot swim.” When my children were small, it was very difficult to find time to get to the pool. I know that costs and transportation problems are significant impediments for many people, and there are probably other issues I haven’t thought of.

But if you don’t have those barriers in your life, and you think it would be fun to swim 500 miles a year, don’t mistake solvable problems for major obstacles. A regular — if somewhat crazy — person can do it.


Here are some numbers: 500 miles is 880,000 yards. I usually swim 3600 yards a day, five days a week. If I’m heading toward a big swim, I swim more. But at a 3600 yard a day, five day a week pace, a person can swim 500 miles in 49 weeks, leaving three weeks for illness or unavoidable obligations.

screen-shot-2016-12-30-at-4-00-12-pm

My monthly totals from 2016. Screenshot from my USMS flog (fitness log), December 2016.