The Raging Elitist

Category: Dear Elite

Best Times

Watching my nine-year-old swim his first ever 500 free, I stood on the deck and shook my head in disgust while writing down 50 splits of forty-two and forty-three seconds. Cartter was babying his race, swimming his way to a time that didn’t reflect his preparation or his ability. A week prior I’d watched him…
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Swim Meet Nerves

In the leadup to the State Championship swim meet, I kept on trying to explain to people the unlikeliness of my son Cartter’s event lineup, particularly the rare combination of youthful inexperience and high stakes that would kick off his weekend. “South Carolina Swimming Age Group Champs” in Greenville would be his first travel meet…
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Just the Dog

After years of imagining how sad losing the family dog will be, I was surprised by the huge relief I felt when I learned she might have bone cancer. I was on the pool deck coaching and happened to have my phone out, because I was showing a swimmer a video I’d taken of his…
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A Dad and a Son

Lying on the couch watching a movie with Scotty’s head on my shoulder, neither one of us wanted to admit to our discomfort. We both adjusted and readjusted for a half hour, wanting the moment of closeness to last, at the same time wanting to separate and have our own space. Scotty was the one…
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How to Talk to Your Kid About Swimming: Say Nothing

The mother of a sometimes-lazy ten-year-old girl recently asked me on deck what she’s supposed to say to motivate her daughter. I think she was a little surprised when I was quick to respond, shrugging my shoulders and suggesting “Just don’t say anything.” The child is no world-beater. She has a little talent, but she…
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O Christmas Tree

It was a little like Christmas never came this year, so quick was its approach and so unyielding the regular course of day-to-day life. In years gone by, when the kids were younger and our schedule more relaxed, the tree in our living room drew me into its multicolored glow and stirred the nostalgic remembrance…
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I Coach Winners

Amid all the millions of yards of training and the focus on goal times and personal records, the true nature of our sport often gets lost. Ultimately, swimmers are racers, and racers want to touch the wall first. That shouldn’t be a controversial statement, except there is a lot of energy spent trying to distract…
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Elf on the Shelf

Every night when I turn out the light in the hall, Cartter and Scotty yell a strange farewell to each other from their beds. I have no idea as to the origin or meaning of their nightly valediction; it rings defiant and silly through the darkness, emanating from their open doorways throughout the house and…
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Thanksgiving Break

At 8:30 on Saturday night, the last non-school night of Thanksgiving break, Scotty was startled and disappointed to learn his evening was coming to an end. He was sitting on the couch with his feet in a warm salt bath, about to have the dry skin scraped from his soles by his mother. “What!” he…
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Pace

Pace sets are as much an exercise in belief as they are an exact science. During my final two short course seasons as a swimmer, I tried to convince myself that the 2:06 200 breaststroke pace I practiced would manifest in a competition, but when meet day arrived, I never went under 2:10. A 13-year-old…
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