4:00am. The alarm goes off. Hand flies from the bed, slamming the off button out of reflex. Sit up. Rub the eyes. Stumble to your feet. Without thinking grab a towel, goggles, several ratty Speedos, a cap. Sweatpants or shorts. A t-shirt.
Work your way down the hallway toward the bathroom, careful not to trip over the dog or cat. Take a piss. Splash some water on your face. Brush the teeth.
"Uuuuuuuuh. 4am."
Stumble to the kitchen. Say hi to Dad who's eating his oatmeal, doing a crossword, and pretending to loathe the cat.
"Morning."
Cat runs off.
(unconvincingly) "Stupid cat! Morning."
Open the fridge. Stare stone faced at the assortment of food in various states of freshness and decay. Grab the bowl full of barley and whole milk that you put there the night before.
It's 4:05am. Stumble into the living room. Turn on the TV. For some reason, The Three Stooges is always on at this time in the morning. Watch fools smack other fools while you eat milk soaked barley.
Dad puts on his jacket.
"Time to go."
"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh."
Put the bowl in the sink. Grab your gear bag. Put on the bright blue parka with equally bright red lining. Pet the dog. Crawl into the car. Fall asleep.
Fifteen minutes later awake with a start. Gunderson High School parking lot.
"Thanks, dad. Have a good day."
Polite but loving grunt. It's 4:45am.
Shuffle through the parking lot along with the other zombies in parkas. The cold of the concrete penetrates even your shoes. Go over to the pool cover application/removal device thingy. Attach the pool cover for one lane. Crank and crank and crank and crank. Move on to the next.
Warm water vapor pours off the pool in chlorinated clouds. It looks warm and inviting. It is a lie.
To the locker room. Spend a moment defying the inevitable, forthcoming hellish dive into the pool. Get into your series of 4 ratty, torn Speedos. Strap the goggles onto your cranium.
It's 5am. Ugh.
Put the parka back on. Grab your bag. Head outside to the freezing concrete.
"Everyone in!" the coach yells.
Everyone hesitates, warm in their parkas.
"Now!"
The parkas drop with a thud on the cold concrete. You can hear goggles being pulled over eyeballs. The snap of rubber swim caps onto heads to cover many masses of hair slightly greened from hours and hours of exposure to chlorine. You've never seen a group of people known for moving very quickly move so slowly. People do the "cold concrete dance" as they inch toward the deceptively cold Olympic sized pool.
"Now!"
Splash!
Someone figuratively breaks the ice, though, to that person, it feels VERY LITERAL. The pool is freezing!
"Gah! Aaaargh!"
The rest of us reluctantly follow. It's a symphony of displeasure. This wakes you up infinitely better than coffee ever will.
It's a weekday morning, so it's a light workout. Maybe 3k yards or so.
The frustratingly cold water gives way to the warmth that cardiovascular exercise provides.
Maybe it's one of the fun days where we use the kickboards with our flippers or sneakers. Maybe we put on the surgical tube belt and get stuck at the 24 meter mark only to be dragged back to the slack point after a minute or two.
Mostly likely, it's really just a light repetitive series of laps up and down the pool in the dark. I'm in the distance lane, so while most people are doing 10x200 on the 3:00. I'm doing 5x400 on the 6:00. Check heart rate between every interval. Every now and then, a prick on the finger to check lactate levels.
Your brain really wakes up with this light workout in cold, overly chlorinated water. I kinda can't wait to get to school to put this now activated brain to good use! Right now, in the distance lane, all I'm doing is counting my strokes, working on my alternate breathing, and counting the tiles on the bottom of the pool, taking particular note of where tiles are busted or missing.
"Alright! That's it! See you all at 3:15 for calisthenics and a real workout!"
The tide has turned. No one wants to leave the pool now. It's fucking cold out there! Everyone cautiously exits the pool and sprints to their parkas and then to the locker rooms. HOT SHOWER! OH GAWD YES!
Immerse yourself in some hot water. Cleanse yourself of the taint of chlorine. It sticks to you like glue.
Get dressed for the day. Shoot the shit with your friends. The occasional prank like Ben Gay in your armpits or underwear. Ha ha ha! Fuck now I have to get re-dressed at home!
Say goodbye to the coaches. Casual, throw away conversation with your teammates because really the only thing on your mind is a giant pile of eggs and some bacon with a humongous glass of grapefruit juice.
Stumble into mom's car. The adrenaline is fading. It's 6:30am and you just swam two miles... more than most people walk in an entire day!
Grumble to yourself about the arthritis cream in your armpits. The 15 minute drive back to Los Gatos takes foreeeeeeeeever.
Get home. Clean yourself up. There's no eggs, so you satisfy yourself with a giant bowl of Grape Nuts and a grapefruit.
Get ready for school. Pack the bag. Make sure you have some lunch money. I did my homework, right? Of course.
Walk to school. Start waking up again. Run into a friend.
Me: "Hey, friend! How's it going?"
Friends: "I'm so tired. I had to mow the lawn yesterday and I'm wiped out. Just exhausted."
Me (to myself): "Fuck you, friend."
It's 8am.
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