The meaning of swimming

New Poem By The Fortress (Set to the cadence of The Night Before Christmas): ‘TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE NATIONALS “Twas the night before Nationals and all through the states. Not a swimmer was stirring, not even their mates. Their practices were swum in the pool with great care. In hopes that PBs soon would be there. We swimmers were trying to taper and rest. We aspired to pass the pressure-filled test. We had purchased our fastskins, water repellent and new. The price tag was staggering, but still they did woo. We had started to dream ‘bout swimming stars past. When into our dreams a resounding voice blast. We jerked up our head and said “Who can it be?” We awakened and squinted icon Ande. He of the glorious “tips” he did share. He of the “Ask Ande” thread b’yond compare. It was Ande, the master swimmers’ Saint Nick. Who coached us to pace, to split and to kick. Ande insisted we all could swim faster. If we fully embraced the rage to master. He said, “Onward, let’s go” to Geek and to Gull. To Peter, to George to Terry – none dull. As soon as we heard him, without even trying. The spirit to swim came a flippin' and flyin'. We dolphins were happy with grins on our faces. We hoped to perform well to earn first rate places. We all had our flu shots and avoided infection. We had practiced our SDKs to perfection. We’d drilled and swum FAST in both practice and meets. We timed out kick sets to the very last beat. We thought evil thoughts of our secret nemeses. We plotted their defeat with guile and ease. We had lifted our weights and even cross-trained. Though quite controversial, it left us less pained. Our starts had improved, our turns were a glory. Especially for masters folk, both nimble and hoary. Proper splitting had now become quite routine. As had the use of the VASA machine. We’d hated the breaststroke, despised butterstruggle. If the Dictators ruled, swimming would be all a muddle. We dutifully went to our PT appointments. We did ART, got massages and practiced deportment. We’d gulped down our vitamins, CoQ and guarine. For those with sore shoulders: Glucosamine! We logged onto the forum all night and all day. The battles ‘tween posters intrigued us to stay. We faithfully read Ande’s daily swim blog. With an espresso in hand, , it helped clear the fog. We named our pet peeves and aired out our rants. Everyone agreed: There shall be no “can’ts.” But ‘tween fights and good humor, training tips prevailed. When practice made perfect, our coaches regaled. The head guru, Ande, told us it was time. We’d put enough yardage and sprints in to shine. So he grabbed up his giftbag and poured out more presents. We shouted our thanks for his omnipresence. Then we heard Ande ‘xclaim as he faded from sight. Happy laps to you all and keep up the good fight.

New Poem By The Fortress (Set to the cadence of The Night Before Christmas): ‘TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE NATIONALS “Twas the night before Nationals and all through the states. Not a swimmer was stirring, not even their mates. Their practices were swum in the pool with great care. In hopes that PBs soon would be there. We swimmers were trying to taper and rest. We aspired to pass the pressure-filled test. We had purchased our fastskins, water repellent and new. The price tag was staggering, but still they did woo. We had started to dream ‘bout swimming stars past. When into our dreams a resounding voice blast. We jerked up our head and said “Who can it be?” We awakened and squinted icon Ande. He of the glorious “tips” he did share. He of the “Ask Ande” thread b’yond compare. It was Ande, the master swimmers’ Saint Nick. Who coached us to pace, to split and to kick. Ande insisted we all could swim faster. If we fully embraced the rage to master. He said, “Onward, let’s go” to Geek and to Gull. To Peter, to George to Terry – none dull. As soon as we heard him, without even trying. The spirit to swim came a flippin' and flyin'. We dolphins were happy with grins on our faces. We hoped to perform well to earn first rate places. We all had our flu shots and avoided infection. We had practiced our SDKs to perfection. We’d drilled and swum FAST in both practice and meets. We timed out kick sets to the very last beat. We thought evil thoughts of our secret nemeses. We plotted their defeat with guile and ease. We had lifted our weights and even cross-trained. Though quite controversial, it left us less pained. Our starts had improved, our turns were a glory. Especially for masters folk, both nimble and hoary. Proper splitting had now become quite routine. As had the use of the VASA machine. We’d hated the breaststroke, despised butterstruggle. If the Dictators ruled, swimming would be all a muddle. We dutifully went to our PT appointments. We did ART, got massages and practiced deportment. We’d gulped down our vitamins, CoQ and guarine. For those with sore shoulders: Glucosamine! We logged onto the forum all night and all day. The battles ‘tween posters intrigued us to stay. We faithfully read Ande’s daily swim blog. With an espresso in hand, , it helped clear the fog. We named our pet peeves and aired out our rants. Everyone agreed: There shall be no “can’ts.” But ‘tween fights and good humor, training tips prevailed. When practice made perfect, our coaches regaled. The head guru, Ande, told us it was time. We’d put enough yardage and sprints in to shine. So he grabbed up his giftbag and poured out more presents. We shouted our thanks for his omnipresence. Then we heard Ande ‘xclaim as he faded from sight. Happy laps to you all and keep up the good fight.