Swim prelims were today. The day started out COLD and gray. And we were unprepared.
I had watched the morning news before we left home. They said temps would be in the eighties until late afternoon, and then the storm would move in. I figured that meant a speedy warming, and since we had to leave the house by 6:30 am, it was hard to anticipate exactly what the weather would be early on.
The kids all froze the first few hours. Teeth-chattering and goose-bumping, they would mount the blocks, ready to plunge head-first into the chilly pool.
The sun finally came out from behind the clouds, and almost instantaneously it became quite hot.
I warmed myself in the sun (do I look interested in the meet, or what?), until it became time to move my chair into shade.
The sun made it's appearance just in time for Bill to start his timing shift.
No, Bill is NOT trying to look "cool" (or as Shilo would say, "an old guy trying to look hip... not that Dad's old..."), he's just shading his unprotected non-suncreened neck from the burning blaze of the sun. (Check out the guy in the pink abstract speedos standing next to him... now HE'S cool. And he knows it.)
The person of interest at the meet today for me was this nice gentleman. The one helping Bill jump-start a lady's car. The one in the black long-sleeved athletic shirt, high-riding khaki shorts, crew socks, and hiking shoes. I had seen this fellow before, at a meet a few weeks back. He was wearing a similarly interesting outfit of above-the-waist Wrangler jeans, a white long-sleeved athletic shirt (like an Under Armor type shirt... tight fitting, you know?), and most likely the same crew socks (I couldn't tell for sure, since he was wearing long pants) and hiking shoes. I am not making a fashion judgment. Goodness knows, I am not the snappiest dresser around. He was just interesting, since it was a sweltering hot day, and he was so darn overdressed for the weather (and those Wranglers were belted up so high on his waist... it looked quite uncomfortable). I wouldn't have had a second thought about him, until I heard the splash, followed by the gasps of on-lookers, smack dab in the middle of a race. He had been taking a picture of his son, looking through the tiny little lens of the camera (remember when we had to do that for every picture?), moving closer, leaning forward, to get the perfect shot, when apparently he took one step too many and ended up in the middle of lane 6. Wranglers, camera, and all. While kids were racing. Luckily, he did not interfere with the swimmer in lane 6, which I surmised was his own son. He quickly jumped out of the pool, and stood, dripping, clinging to his water-logged camera. It was one of those moments that you feel great empathy for another person's embarrassment. And for his son. Those in near proximity found him a towel, and gave advice on how to possibly save the camera and it's precious data. HE handled things with dignity, dried himself off, and stayed for the rest of the meet. (I'm sure I would have been sulking and crying in my car, hiding behind heavily tinted windows and large sunglasses, had that happened to me.)
So of course I noticed him today as he parked his family down right next to the starting blocks. And then I noticed him again and again, because his toddler (who I thought might very likely fall into the pool himself, since he was running around unsupervised on several occasions), a very young boy of maybe 18 months, screamed bloody murder on and off throughout the entire meet. Initially Bill had put our chairs in their vicinity, but once I heard that baby scream, I knew a move was in order.
This was not a snobbish "I don't want to sit by you" move, this was merely for headache avoidance and sanity preservation. EVERY time I stood by the blocks to observe the meet, that baby was hollering. Sometimes he was strapped into his stroller, sometimes he was on the hip of his mother, sometimes he was being dominated by his older (maybe three-year-old) brother, and sometimes he was being held by his long-sleeved, high-waisted-shorts-clad father, all of whom did NOT seem to notice that he was very obviously unhappy. Once again, I felt empathy. They wanted to watch and support their son, just like everyone else. I sent sympathetic thoughts in their general direction.
After the meet, Bill noticed a lady in need of assistance. He offered his help, and a moment or two later, "the guy" came by to add his support. Waiting and watching in our air-conditioned car, Shilo and I talked about what a nice, albeit interesting, fellow he was. Once the needed aid was given, and Bill joined us in the car, he said, "Sorry that took so long. That guy helping me didn't have a clue what he was doing, so I felt like I needed to stay until the car was running."
It's the thought that counts, right?
The meet was successful. Mauri qualified for Championships in TWO events: the 50 Back and the 100 IM. She took 18 seconds off her best IM time... a huge accomplishment.
Shilo qualified in all three of her events: 50 Free, 100 Fly, and 100 Back.
Way to go, girls!
