Swimming Stereotypes

The Next Generation: Bad Girls You may think you're tough. Sure, you clawed your way up the corporate ladder making six figures before age 30; you were promoted to a board of previously all male executive managers as the first female SR VP in a predominantly male industry; you're reputation is to make grown men cry in the board room, the bedroom, and, your favorite location, during practices. You spit nails and curse like a sailor while being a fabulous wife and mother to at least three. But you know you do not compare to the next generation of swimmer girls. These gals swim as fast as the men did when you were in high school. In fact, some of them out swim the top high school boys and college men now. They are taller, faster, and stronger - than most of the girls and some of the boys. 1:48 in the 200 FR is the norm (untapered, no LZR.) Amy Van Dyken may have spit water in her competitors' lanes, but these gals spit water in the lane and at the face of their teammates on a regular basis. You are pleased when it's pool water rather than purple gatorade. If they snap a towel or cap at your ass, it can be heard round the world and it leaves a huge welt for a week. A game of water basketball with this group makes Pro football look like a sewing circle. You feel lucky to come out of the game only having lost a half pint of blood and some bruises unlike some of the boys who are in the ER with a missing limb or appendage. You regularly chicken out and swim with the 6+ foot boys in their lane because well, they are slower than the New Gen gals and you are less likely to be swum over. There IS crying. Daily. But 9 times out of 10 it's the boys. When it is a gal, they later hit OT cuts during the season. You consider becoming a fan of crying. You and the 30+ years of experience coach bring your A game (physical and mental along with your bag of witty comebacks) to practice each day and try your best to keep New Gen at bay and under control. You succeed. . . some of the time. Screaming matches and strong language are the norm (by Next Gen and NOT the coach) if you accidentally leave on the wrong interval; miss the interval; foul up the set; or god forbid, *try* and cheat. Any and all respect that you may have earned is lost forever if you even think about putting on fins or paddles during a swim set. SDK was learned at birth and is performed better than Orca or Flipper. 50 LCM SDK repeats of no breathers with NO fins are a mere warm up. If a cat fight erupts within the New Gen group, you AND the coaches run for the nearest bomb shelter. You are secretly pleased that you didn't have to compete with this group of gals b/c you know you would lose. Your masters teammates are not pleased at all or even slightly amused when you apply some of the tricks and lessons learned with New Gen. They are happy when you leave to go back with New Gen. You love every minute of it. You thought you were tough. You're not. It's the next generation.

The Next Generation: Bad Girls You may think you're tough. Sure, you clawed your way up the corporate ladder making six figures before age 30; you were promoted to a board of previously all male executive managers as the first female SR VP in a predominantly male industry; you're reputation is to make grown men cry in the board room, the bedroom, and, your favorite location, during practices. You spit nails and curse like a sailor while being a fabulous wife and mother to at least three. But you know you do not compare to the next generation of swimmer girls. These gals swim as fast as the men did when you were in high school. In fact, some of them out swim the top high school boys and college men now. They are taller, faster, and stronger - than most of the girls and some of the boys. 1:48 in the 200 FR is the norm (untapered, no LZR.) Amy Van Dyken may have spit water in her competitors' lanes, but these gals spit water in the lane and at the face of their teammates on a regular basis. You are pleased when it's pool water rather than purple gatorade. If they snap a towel or cap at your ass, it can be heard round the world and it leaves a huge welt for a week. A game of water basketball with this group makes Pro football look like a sewing circle. You feel lucky to come out of the game only having lost a half pint of blood and some bruises unlike some of the boys who are in the ER with a missing limb or appendage. You regularly chicken out and swim with the 6+ foot boys in their lane because well, they are slower than the New Gen gals and you are less likely to be swum over. There IS crying. Daily. But 9 times out of 10 it's the boys. When it is a gal, they later hit OT cuts during the season. You consider becoming a fan of crying. You and the 30+ years of experience coach bring your A game (physical and mental along with your bag of witty comebacks) to practice each day and try your best to keep New Gen at bay and under control. You succeed. . . some of the time. Screaming matches and strong language are the norm (by Next Gen and NOT the coach) if you accidentally leave on the wrong interval; miss the interval; foul up the set; or god forbid, *try* and cheat. Any and all respect that you may have earned is lost forever if you even think about putting on fins or paddles during a swim set. SDK was learned at birth and is performed better than Orca or Flipper. 50 LCM SDK repeats of no breathers with NO fins are a mere warm up. If a cat fight erupts within the New Gen group, you AND the coaches run for the nearest bomb shelter. You are secretly pleased that you didn't have to compete with this group of gals b/c you know you would lose. Your masters teammates are not pleased at all or even slightly amused when you apply some of the tricks and lessons learned with New Gen. They are happy when you leave to go back with New Gen. You love every minute of it. You thought you were tough. You're not. It's the next generation.