In my most recent blog entry, "One Man's Garbage..." forums.usms.org/blog.php , I asked my fellow swimmers their respective opinions on the impact long, slow, continuous swimming has on meet performance.
The expression "garbage yards" (and the pejorative overtones such a phrase conjurs) has become so embedded in the forum lexicon that many, I suspect, now consider as indisputable truth swimming this way is a waste of time for anyone with competitive ambitions.
Such a view appears particularly well-entrenched among the many non-credentialed exercise physiology pontificators here on the forums who also have a fondness for sprinting and dry land exercise.
But is the concept of garbage yards truly valid--or a kind of urban legend made up largely by sprinters who would rather be doing something other than spending 90 minutes without stopping in the pool?
I don't mean only practicing this way. But if you are, like me, inclined to enjoy swimming, once or twice a week, long, slow, relatively relaxing, continuous yards, do you believe (and more importantly, perhaps, have any evidence to bolster said belief) that so-called "garbage yards" can have some value for actual racing?
Or do these only teach your body to swim slow?
I invite you to read my recent blog forums.usms.org/blog.php and post your thoughts advice there or here.
At the risk of provoking censure by the forum authorities, I furthermore ask you to leave all civility by the wayside.
Feel free to trash talk and smack upside the head of any and every one who disagrees with your personal bias here!
It's been way too long since these forums have had a good, old-fashioned range war of opinions run amuk and ad hominem attacks!
Go at each other tooth and claw. It will only stir the blood of us all, I say--something we garbage yard enthusiasts probably need a bit more of, I will admit.
Most scientific measures (max heart rate, blood lactate, etc.) would show that the 1:31 – 1:33 athlete is working significantly harder than your, say 2:00 200 swimmer. As for the less scientific measures (flopping and gasping on the deck like a landed carp) I’d probably give the nod to some of our more colorful Masters Swimmers.
Note –for most of us, getting our max heart rate in a race in the 190-210 range or a blood lactate level of 10-13 mmol/L would put us in the boneyard not just closer.
Rob, with all due respect to the Presidential Office that you hold, I must say you are incorrect here, sir!
Imagine, for the sake of explication, two athletes: Usain Boldt and a somewhat hypothetical version of yourself.
Imagine, moreover, that the demands of the USMS presidency have forced you to remain at your desk, toiling day after day, albeit in a sedentary fashion, to the point where your feet, well, atrophy altogether, along with what ever slight musculature has not entirely metamorphosed into adipose tissue in your lower extremities.
The two of you are summoned to a track, where Usain laces up his running shoes and does a bit of warm up. You, having made your way to the same track by the assistance of a Rascal mobility scooter, place some sort of rubberized booties over your leg stumps and attempt to stand upright.
The starter says, "Gentleman, take your marks."
Usain assumes the position, and you assume something that is a bit more idiosyncratic and too difficult to describe in words. But you assume it nevertheless.
The starter says, "Get set!"
Usain's fast twitch muscles twitch magnificently, like a jaguar who has spotted a tapir.
Your muscle-like fat tissues simply twitch, like a tapir aware he has been spotted by a jaguar.
The starter raises his gun and pulls the trigger. "Bang!" goes the blank round.
Approximately 9.58 seconds later, Usain crosses the finish line designating 100 meters splendidly run.
Sometime the following day, you cross the same finish line, your rubberized booties worn down, blood leaking so profusely that one of the major impediments to your finishing the race is that you keep slipping and falling down because of your own fluids.
I ask you: who has worked harder here--Usain in his 9.58 seconds of blazing glory, or this hypothetical version of yourself, in your 17 hours, 52 minutes, 12.22 seconds of extended Bataan-Death-March True Grit?
I think the answer is obvious. Our USMS president, hypotheticalized, in such a scenario is a much, much harder working athlete than the world record holder.
If you agree with my reasoning here, and frankly, it brooks no disagreement outside of the clinically brain dead or needlessly argumentative self-delusional type individual, neither of which I know you are not, sir!--if you agree, and of course you will, how much of a leap is it to suggest I swim much, much harder in the 200 than my lean and physiologically lucky whipper-snapper betters?
Q.E.D.
Most scientific measures (max heart rate, blood lactate, etc.) would show that the 1:31 – 1:33 athlete is working significantly harder than your, say 2:00 200 swimmer. As for the less scientific measures (flopping and gasping on the deck like a landed carp) I’d probably give the nod to some of our more colorful Masters Swimmers.
Note –for most of us, getting our max heart rate in a race in the 190-210 range or a blood lactate level of 10-13 mmol/L would put us in the boneyard not just closer.
Rob, with all due respect to the Presidential Office that you hold, I must say you are incorrect here, sir!
Imagine, for the sake of explication, two athletes: Usain Boldt and a somewhat hypothetical version of yourself.
Imagine, moreover, that the demands of the USMS presidency have forced you to remain at your desk, toiling day after day, albeit in a sedentary fashion, to the point where your feet, well, atrophy altogether, along with what ever slight musculature has not entirely metamorphosed into adipose tissue in your lower extremities.
The two of you are summoned to a track, where Usain laces up his running shoes and does a bit of warm up. You, having made your way to the same track by the assistance of a Rascal mobility scooter, place some sort of rubberized booties over your leg stumps and attempt to stand upright.
The starter says, "Gentleman, take your marks."
Usain assumes the position, and you assume something that is a bit more idiosyncratic and too difficult to describe in words. But you assume it nevertheless.
The starter says, "Get set!"
Usain's fast twitch muscles twitch magnificently, like a jaguar who has spotted a tapir.
Your muscle-like fat tissues simply twitch, like a tapir aware he has been spotted by a jaguar.
The starter raises his gun and pulls the trigger. "Bang!" goes the blank round.
Approximately 9.58 seconds later, Usain crosses the finish line designating 100 meters splendidly run.
Sometime the following day, you cross the same finish line, your rubberized booties worn down, blood leaking so profusely that one of the major impediments to your finishing the race is that you keep slipping and falling down because of your own fluids.
I ask you: who has worked harder here--Usain in his 9.58 seconds of blazing glory, or this hypothetical version of yourself, in your 17 hours, 52 minutes, 12.22 seconds of extended Bataan-Death-March True Grit?
I think the answer is obvious. Our USMS president, hypotheticalized, in such a scenario is a much, much harder working athlete than the world record holder.
If you agree with my reasoning here, and frankly, it brooks no disagreement outside of the clinically brain dead or needlessly argumentative self-delusional type individual, neither of which I know you are not, sir!--if you agree, and of course you will, how much of a leap is it to suggest I swim much, much harder in the 200 than my lean and physiologically lucky whipper-snapper betters?
Q.E.D.
