Tuesday, February 5, 2019

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star



He was poised on the starting blocks when suddenly and without warning, he looked up, expressionless, and I realized that he'd seen me all along. I'd been attempting to hide behind one of the columns on the spectator viewing deck, staying out of the way as the kid didn't want friends or family, "making a fuss".

Especially elderly family.

I'm not sure if my presence was a help or a hindrance. Probably the latter.

He was time trialing for the Ontario Championships, having failed to qualify in the previous 3 races, this being his last chance to meet the almost diabolical challenge for a 12 year old in his second year of competition of having to backstroke 100 metres in the pool in 1:15:5

About the time it takes most of us to swim one width across a pool!

His pacer, a 14 year old with a far more powerful build, jumped in nonchalantly, grabbed the backstroke starting bar almost with disdain, smirking that he'd been chosen to pace a mere 12 year old and both, at the gun (fired by an official of Swimming Ontario) took off. The older boy jumped to a quick 2 metre lead.

But the kid, wiry, tenacious and blessed with a "motor" which generated an elite-level oxygen uptake of 65 mg per kg of body weight, soon closed the gap and they came off the first of 3 flip turns in synchro, staying stroke-for-stroke thru the second 25 metres.

The kid, sensing his pacer's muscles were starting to load up, began pulling ahead on the 3rd of 4 laps, the older boy almost frantically attempting to keep up, and in so doing having his previously flawless technique begin to deteriorate.

So the 3rd lap went to the kid, the pacer turning onto his stomach and flip turning about one stroke back.

The last 25 metres was all the kid, who pulled ahead effortlessly, his pacer protesting to anyone who would listen later, "Well, my specialty is breast stroke!"

Touching the wall in 1:15:0, with half a second to spare and the "Ontarios" in the bag, the kid leapt from the pool, looked up to the viewing deck, and an elderly observer lip read, "Beat that, old man!"

But did I note a twinkle in our little star's eye?

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