Funny that I mentioned my swimming on lane 3, here on the blog yesterday (see below). At our practice this morning, a new guy was promoted right from the beginners lane up to lane 3. As always, when someone new comes to our line, the "old dogs" decided to welcome him by pushing extra hard on all sets, making him really sweat in the water, trying to keep up with us. And it worked perfectly for just over 2 km. For the first time since ... well, ever really, I wasn't the slowest on the backstroke. We left him behind on the breaststroke also, and in one long set of freestyle we even rounded him. During the breaks we would shower him with nasty jokes and comments, all in good spirit of course, and he just laughed along. We have all been through this at some point (and hopefully will be again, that is if we ever manage to be promoted up to lanes 4, 5 or 6).
Then came the butterfly. Bloody butterfly. All kinds of drills and sprints and whatever names they want to use as a substitute for the correct term: torture. Seven hundred meters of it. The new guy was flying, if you can use that word for a swimmer. Him and me, we were like Ferrari vs Driving Miss Daisy. Afterwards he just smiled modestly and mumbled something about his injured elbow troubling him during the first few sets, but said he was feeling fine now. Fantastic! So he's heading for lane 4 as soon as his elbow is OK. Damn, I wish I found a way to make progress faster. But at least the rest of us on lane 3 had fun pushing him for the first 2 km. Always look on the bright side ...
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