It's about 8am. I'm both energized and a little groggy from the morning workout. A little sore if it was a weight lifting morning.
School. High school in San Jose, CA. Leigh High. It's a suburban area of San Jose bordering the then no-schmancy part of Los Gatos. Right in the foothills. There were still apricot orchards to be found.
Wander in to Mrs. Jones' honors English class. She was the only teacher I had that didn't abjectly hate my brother from 8 years earlier and hold his shitty high school history against me. Start the academic day with some free writing. Discuss some Steinbeck or Hemingway. Fumble my way through Intermediate Algebra because Algebra 2 gave me severe panic attacks.
French. Biology. Make goo goo eyes with my girlfriend. Lunch. Act a little weird at the world. Finish up the academic day like any normal teenager before the obligations of the swimmer kick in at 3:15.
I was a good student. One of the top five in my class. I was neither popular nor unpopular. I kinda floated in the middle of the social order. I was happy here. I got a fair amount of respect for the fact that I was the second best swimmer on our high school team. Leif always was a vastly superior swimmer than I was. Like Olympic qualifying good if he'd been born 2 years earlier or 2 years later. We were on the same year round team, the San Jose Aquatics and went to the same high school.
Every high school district in the Bay Area had really competitive swim teams. This was due in large part to the fact that most of us year round swimmers were scattered throughout all the high schools in the region. Strangely though, the division our high school swim team was in wasn't all that great. There were a couple of decent year round swimmers, but not many. Leif and I really were the stars of this particular division. We each held high school and league records in the events we swam and they remained for a fair while after we left Leigh High.
It was required that we attend one practice a week with the high school team to maintain our eligibility to compete in the high school league.
Our team wasn't good. I made a lot of friends on that team and we had some good times together, but we weren't a good team outside of Leif and me. Not compared to Bellarmine, Santa Theresa, or Leland High Schools. They were crammed full of some of the best teammates we had from San Jose Aquatics.
Our high school coach wasn't really a swim coach. He was a football coach and a PE teacher who enjoyed the sport of swimming. A really nice guy Not a bad coach, just not overly knowledgeable in the nitty gritty of what real swimming was about.
He would let Leif and I design the workout for the day. Oh yeah! We'd consult for a few minutes to come up with the easiest practice we could think of... for us. For the JV team and most of the varsity team, this would be the toughest workout of the week for them.
At our high school swim meets, Leif and I would cruise through our events. Show off a bit. Leif was a sprinter and backstroker. He'd launch himself off the block for the 100 yard backstroke, kick underwater for 20 yards, pop up, take 3 or so strokes, flipturn, kick underwater for 20 yards... you get the picture. I'd do the 200 IM and 500 freestyle. For the 500 I'd leisurely launch myself off the block, and basically coast for 20 laps of the pool. If it was the home pool, I'd always be careful not to scrape along the bottom or bash my head in on the flip turns. Without even trying, I'd lap one or two of my competitors. First place every time, no effort. I was a shitty backstroker and I could have won any backstroke race in our league if Leif wasn't swimming the event.
At the end of the season was CCS. Central Coast Swimming championships. It was always in the short course pool at Stanford University. A really nice pool. For high school swimming in the Bay Area, this was the main event. It was like being at any other year round swim meet. Everyone you swam with on a daily basis or swam against regularly was there. This was the one high school meet that we'd all take super seriously.
My sophomore year, I did something weird. I entered the 200 IM. It was an off event for me, but after nearly 10 years in the distance lane, it was a nice break for me. I held no illusions that I would final in this race, but knew I couldn't take it easy in the preliminary heats if I stood any shot at finaling.
I dive in. Swim my ass off like you normally don't in prelims. Hit the wall. Personal best! First in my heat! Whoa! That was unexpected!
I get out of the pool and do what all swimmers do the moment they finish their race. I go over to Mr. Conway, my high school coach to go over my race.
I had declined going to Bellarmine Prep for high school because they wouldn't let me take French and Latin simultaneously as a freshman. Their coach resented me for this and had it in for me. As I'm making my way to my coach, he gets in my face and asks me what exactly the holy hell was I doing swimming the IM? I'd knocked two of his seniors out of their senior year finals in the event and it wasn't even my primary event.
Our year round coaches were not allowed down on the main floor where the pool was. They were relegated to the stands above the pool. I honestly thought this asshole was going to hit me and modified my stance in anticipation of just that. My coach, Jonty, was in the stands. He made a noise. Caught the Bellarmine coach's attention and summoned him. You've never seen an inflamed male ago deflate so quickly! He disappeared into the bleachers for what I'm sure was a very congenial discussion about professional swim coach decorum. I secretly hoped blows would be exchanged.
I get the same treatment from the 2 seniors (both on my year round team!) that I bumped from finals.
My response?
"Maybe you should have swum a bit faster in prelims."
Silence.
I did ok in finals. I placed 5th if I recall correctly. Personal best. I didn't know it at this point, but swimming this particular event would be a turning point for me in what would also turn out to be my last year of swimming year round. I'd finish out the summer season going to Junior Nationals in Arizona and swimming like shit because politics at San Jose Aquatics got rather ugly that year.
Strangely, I'd have my best swim of the year at Far Westerns in Concord a week after Junior Nationals, off my taper, unshaved, generally exhausted and frustrated. I'd win the 400 IM and get within a hair's width of my Junior Nationals qualifying time in the event. It would be my last swim with my coaches Jonty and Carol as well as with San Jose Aquatics.
It's a very disorienting moment when the last thing you remember hearing your coach say to you at a meet is, "I'm so sorry. We've been training you wrong for the last two years." A month later, I would switch to the Santa Clara team, despise my new coach, bust my right knee, have a second surgery in 1.5 years, come back after physical therapy, and quit the sport in a flurry of expletives aimed at said new coach.
I honestly think this was one of the most crucial turning points in my life.
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