the 400 IM final, Sunday, August 10, I met Bob at our dorm in the villageâhe was on the first floor, I was on the thirdâfor a wake-up swim at a pool in the village. I was maybe ten minutes late meeting him. That sort of thing drives Bob crazy, especially on race day. He kept looking at his watch but not saying anything. Just looking at the watch.
We had never done a wake-up swim before. Some coaches swear by them. Not Bob. But weâd never had a morning final before, and Bob didnât want to spend the next thirty years wondering if he should have had me do a wake-up swim. So I did 500 to 800 meters, just enough to get moving.
Lochte had already done his wake-up swim. Katie Hoff, who is from Baltimore, too, and is an old friend, was doing hers. She would go on to win three medals in Beijing.
After that, we walked over to the dining hall for breakfast: oatmeal and fruit. And one of those cultural moments: no brown sugar for the oatmeal. I used white sugar. No excuses.
By now we were only three or four minutes behind Bobâs schedule. He kept looking at the watch.
This was his way of saying, I want to get this first race over and done with.
Me, too.
For years, Iâve had the same routine to get ready for a race. I got to the Cube, per the routine, two hours before the race.
Like I always do, I stretched and loosened up a bit first. Then I got into the water, wearing just a brief; itâs not the time for competition-style suits, much less full-body gear, and swam my warm-up: 800 mixer to start, alternating a 50 freestyle with a 50 of something else, anything but free; 600 meters of kicking with a kickboard; 400 meters of pulling a pull buoy; however I want to do it, something to warm up my arms; a 200 medley drill; then some 25s just to get the heart going a little bit. Since I was getting ready for a 400 medley, I also did one or two 25s of each stroke. When I was done with that, I swam down for 75 to 100 meters.
That was that.
Usually, while Iâm doing this warm-up, Bob goes and gets himself a Diet Coke or a coffeeâstraight-up black, of course. Not this day. We were both feeling slightly paranoid. I asked him to stick around at one end of the pool with my water bottle. That way we could make extra certain no one was going to do anything outlandishly stupid like trying to poison me.
Warm-up went by uneventfully. I dried off, got warm, put my headphones on, and sat on the massage table. I always sit; I donât lie down. From that point on, no matter the event, Bob and I donât talk until after the end of the race. I mean, whatâs there to say?
In Beijing, the headphones were plugged into a black iPod, which I had gotten as a bonus for buying an Apple laptop at a store in Ann Arbor a few months before the Olympics. Here was the deal at the store: iPod or free printer. I never print anything so I grabbed the iPod. Whatâs on my iPod? Lil Wayne and Young Jeezy, to name two, especially Young Jeezyâs âGo Gettaâ and Lil Wayneâs âIâm Me.â The lyrics to âIâm Meâ are definitely not G-rated. But thatâs not, for me, the point. When I hear Lil Wayne do that song, I hear him saying, Iâm my own individual, and thatâs me.
At the Cube, there was a television in front of the massage table. The choices invariably seemed to be archery, volleyball, or womenâs basketball.
About forty-five minutes out, I hopped into my suit, the Speedo LZR Racer. Some guys like to wear a brief under the LZR. Not my way. Under the LZR itâs me. Some swimmers have said they need help putting on the LZR. Not me. I put a plastic garbage bag on my foot and rolled that leg of the suit over the bag, then up my leg; then I put the bag on the other foot and did it on that side. Easy.
For the individual medley I wore a suit that went from waist to the anklesâessentially swim pants. It can feel too constricting, especially trying to do the
We had never done a wake-up swim before. Some coaches swear by them. Not Bob. But weâd never had a morning final before, and Bob didnât want to spend the next thirty years wondering if he should have had me do a wake-up swim. So I did 500 to 800 meters, just enough to get moving.
Lochte had already done his wake-up swim. Katie Hoff, who is from Baltimore, too, and is an old friend, was doing hers. She would go on to win three medals in Beijing.
After that, we walked over to the dining hall for breakfast: oatmeal and fruit. And one of those cultural moments: no brown sugar for the oatmeal. I used white sugar. No excuses.
By now we were only three or four minutes behind Bobâs schedule. He kept looking at the watch.
This was his way of saying, I want to get this first race over and done with.
Me, too.
For years, Iâve had the same routine to get ready for a race. I got to the Cube, per the routine, two hours before the race.
Like I always do, I stretched and loosened up a bit first. Then I got into the water, wearing just a brief; itâs not the time for competition-style suits, much less full-body gear, and swam my warm-up: 800 mixer to start, alternating a 50 freestyle with a 50 of something else, anything but free; 600 meters of kicking with a kickboard; 400 meters of pulling a pull buoy; however I want to do it, something to warm up my arms; a 200 medley drill; then some 25s just to get the heart going a little bit. Since I was getting ready for a 400 medley, I also did one or two 25s of each stroke. When I was done with that, I swam down for 75 to 100 meters.
That was that.
Usually, while Iâm doing this warm-up, Bob goes and gets himself a Diet Coke or a coffeeâstraight-up black, of course. Not this day. We were both feeling slightly paranoid. I asked him to stick around at one end of the pool with my water bottle. That way we could make extra certain no one was going to do anything outlandishly stupid like trying to poison me.
Warm-up went by uneventfully. I dried off, got warm, put my headphones on, and sat on the massage table. I always sit; I donât lie down. From that point on, no matter the event, Bob and I donât talk until after the end of the race. I mean, whatâs there to say?
In Beijing, the headphones were plugged into a black iPod, which I had gotten as a bonus for buying an Apple laptop at a store in Ann Arbor a few months before the Olympics. Here was the deal at the store: iPod or free printer. I never print anything so I grabbed the iPod. Whatâs on my iPod? Lil Wayne and Young Jeezy, to name two, especially Young Jeezyâs âGo Gettaâ and Lil Wayneâs âIâm Me.â The lyrics to âIâm Meâ are definitely not G-rated. But thatâs not, for me, the point. When I hear Lil Wayne do that song, I hear him saying, Iâm my own individual, and thatâs me.
At the Cube, there was a television in front of the massage table. The choices invariably seemed to be archery, volleyball, or womenâs basketball.
About forty-five minutes out, I hopped into my suit, the Speedo LZR Racer. Some guys like to wear a brief under the LZR. Not my way. Under the LZR itâs me. Some swimmers have said they need help putting on the LZR. Not me. I put a plastic garbage bag on my foot and rolled that leg of the suit over the bag, then up my leg; then I put the bag on the other foot and did it on that side. Easy.
For the individual medley I wore a suit that went from waist to the anklesâessentially swim pants. It can feel too constricting, especially trying to do the
Similar Books
