11/25/Wohlfrom/The Black Line

7:09 Am. “That’s odd.” I thought as I awoke, sprawled out and wrapped up in my big, fuzzy, black and red Oak Hills swimming parka on the floor of the mirror room. “Katie should have been here by now. She’s probably running late, it wouldn’t be the first time.” I glanced around the room to see many of my teammates dozing on the floor wrapped in parkas and other layers to keep out the morning chill. I checked my phone for the time once more. “7:12 AM, December 30th.” I gazed around once more. Christmas break, or more commonly known as “hell week(s)” by swimmers throughout the nation, had started 10 days ago. It’s a time where coaches no longer have to work practice times around school schedules and have free reign of the pool and the day which often resulted in a 4 hour morning practice followed by a 2 hour afternoon practice. It was because of this that none of my teammates seemed the slightest bit disturbed by the delay. We exhausted swimmers knew that once Katie arrived we must once again force our exhausted bodies into the frigid water for nearly the 9th day in a row. It was with that thought that I began to wonder why I chose a sport that required early mornings in cold pools, a sport that demanded that you push your body to its physical limits, a sport that required that you hold your breath for a good portion of practice, but mostly why I chose a sport that required you to stare at the same solid black line for hours every day.

The black line. A peculiar aspect of swimming that according to http://www.livestrong.com/article/554626-how-swimmers-recognize-marks-in-a-swimming-pool/ serves the practical purpose of “These lines act as guides to help athletes stay straight while swimming. The lines are painted a dark color, often black, to stand out. Near the end of the pool, the lines form a T-shape to alert the swimmer that he's nearing the end.” It’s such a simple part of the sport that, to normal people, probably doesn’t mean much, but to a swimmer it means a lot more than just alerting you to the fact that the pool is ending.

The door swung open at 7:16 AM. “Alright kiddie kiddie’s wake up and get ready to get in the pool!” And she moved to unlock the door to the pool. 7:19 AM, “Let’s go ya little turd nuggets get in the pool! 500 warm up!” And then finally actual frustration crept into her voice at 7:22 AM, “Get in the pool NOW!” LET’S GO!” And so I found myself in my senior year, the final stretch of my swimming career, once again looking at that fateful black line. Maybe I didn’t quite need the black line to guide me through the pool, but perhaps it had guided me in other ways throughout my swimming career that I had never come to realize until that moment.

I first became acquainted with the black line during my freshman year of high school. I had signed up for a lifeguard training class for my gym credit second semester and I was nearing the end of my cross country season when all of a sudden I realized that I couldn’t really swim. At least not well enough to be a lifeguard. I could keep myself from drowning and swim for fun but that was about it. So I decided to go to a swim conditioning. I figured I’d go and pick up a few pointers. When I told my family, the response I got was “Psh, you can’t swim!” Challenge accepted. Thus began my relationship with the black line. The black line that guided me through my first year and would continue to guide me through the rest of my career.

It wasn’t until my sophomore year that the black line helped to guide my teammates and myself through difficult times. “Nocheck, due to his condition, has chosen to resign to focus on his fight against cancer. He’ll still be around as much as possible but he can’t be here full time. So I guess that leaves me.” Katie fell silent. A long moment of realization followed the somber news. The reality of our beloved coach’s condition became clear. “But he wouldn’t want us to just sit here wasting time so here’s the next set.” Katie spoke up. And so we continued with our practice and it was then, for the first time, that I found the company of the black line and the swooshing of water around my ears as I swam comforting. That black line guided us through the season and once again it guided me and reminded me of his impact on my life at the time of his death later that summer. It was an odd coincidence that only a couple days after his funeral I found myself swimming in a meet at the very swim club that he had managed for so long and the very swim club that he had given me my first job at. I swam my races at that meet with the memory of the man who introduced me to the sport that would teach me more about myself than I would have ever realized at the time and to a job that I would hold for years after.

A little over a year, during the spring of my junior year of high school, while sitting in second bell we received news that there was a shooting at a local private high school. A student had brought a gun to school and attempted suicide. During my third bell, I came to the realization that the student was a childhood friend of mine during all of elementary and middle school. Two days after the event, after going to the hospital, after attending prayer services, after two sleepless nights, I went to swim practice. I went to see my teammates and my coaches and most importantly I went for the peaceful company of the black line. I found comfort once again in the camaraderie of my team and the quiet solemnity of that ever present black line.

Even though I am pretty much retired from competing and training in the sport myself, I still find comfort in the fact that if I’m going through a rough time I can always dig up the cap and goggles and go seek the comforting presence of the black line on the bottom of the competition pool. It would always be there as a coping mechanism and as a link to my teammates who were some of the best friends I’ll ever have. I know that I can always turn to the sport and the experiences that the black line helped guide me through and know that everything will be turn out okay.