Over the weekend I went to a swim meet with my camera. Swim meets are good to practice photographing because:

1. You have to not only be quick with your finger, but you also have to practice anticipation and timing. Swimmers only breathe every so often, and unless the swimmer’s face is out of the water then it’s a boring picture.
2. A wide range of emotions are present. Nervousness, excitement, determination, disappointment…it’s all there.
3. A lot of swimmers like being in the spotlight; they aren’t camera shy.

That being said, I shot old friends but I went to the meet to shoot emotions.

Johnny, looking over a list of his opponents’ seed times:

Daniel, after gaining a couple seconds on his personal best:

Jamie after being told that he dropped 10 seconds (!) off his previous personal best:

This high school swimming season we’ve had a stroke judge at our home meets. This is a little abnormal for us, considering we haven’t had a stroke judge for the past couple years. No one knows anything about this man except that he is narcoleptic, and he used to be the principal of the high school.

Having a stroke judge is usually a good thing, because it stops people from cheating on starts and turns (and etc). Having a narcoleptic stroke judge is a different matter altogether.

Not only did he randomly fall asleep, but when he was awake the only thing he did was threaten to disqualify swimmers based on how close their team mates stood to the edge of the pool.

When I was counting someone’s 500, Antonio volunteered to replace me half-way through (I had to race immediately afterwards). The stroke judge hobbled over (he uses a cane) and started hitting Antonio with his cane.

Antonio: [winces a little] Yes?

Judge: Young man, if you don’t want your team mate to be disqualified, I suggest you go stand somewhere else.

A: But I’m replacing Alisa so that she can go get ready for her race.

J: He who starts the counting must finish the counting.

A: Whaa?

J: How long have you been swimming?

A: Uh, about two years or so…

J: Then you should know better. Get along.

Poor Antonio was by now very upset. I told him to go tell Coach Jack. Jack’s response?

“Don’t worry about it. Look, he’s asleep again! This means that you can start your leg of the relay a little early.”

“I don’t want you going out like there’s no tomorrow and then coming back the next day.”

–Jack (assistant swim coach), to the team on how he wants us to swim our races

“Racing butterfly is so horrible. Right after that first wall I start thinking, ‘Why? Why do I do this to myself? Dumb, dumb, dumb.’”

“Right after I dive in I start thinking that.”

It’s always a fun day at the pool. heh heh.

So we get there and me, Madeline, and Jack all look at the pool and say “There’s something wrong with the pool.” Laura (my coach) gives us the great-you-guys-because-you-said-that-something-is- going-to-be-wrong-with-the-pool look.

I wasn’t to keen on getting in the water for warmup. Something looked seriously wrong. I watched a bee die in 30 seconds. Usually it takes 3 minutes before they die in the water. But because I always have to be the first one in (another strange pool tradition), I got in.

The water was super cloudy and green. I popped up and said, “Something’s wrong with the water and I think there’s too much chlorine.” Madeline popped up and said “I agree.”

Laura was already mad at us for jinxing the pool and she said, “If you guys are going to complain the whole time, then why don’t you go check the chemicals.” So after 15 seconds of consideration I got out and ran to the guard shack for the testing kit. Laura wandered over and made sure I did everything right. I knew how to do everything, but I pretended that I didn’t so if something got messed up I wouldn’t look stupid (Laura would because she walked me through it).
I rinsed the little vile.
I filled it up halfway with water that was drawn from elbow deepness.
I added two scoops of that little powder bottle.
I swirled it around.
The water turned hot pink. That signifies that there is chlorine present.
I got out the brown bottle with the yellow lid that says W0871 (or whatever it says, but it was the right bottle I promise. Laura verified that).
I added one drop and swirled. Now you swirl after each drop and count to see how many drops it takes before the water turns white (insert Michael Jackson joke here). Then you divide that number by 3 and it gives you the chlorine level.

Alisa’s Handy-Dandy Guide to Chlorine Levels
———————————————-
0= put fish in the pool and call it a pond
1= extremely low. add some chemicals and you’ll be alright.
2= no one better pee in the pool
3= normal. this number is good. aim for it.
4= high. if you have sensitive skin, don’t swim
5= illegal to swim in
6= yeah, 4 is the limit, remember?
7= if you swim in this you will have strange side effects
8= start thinking about your life as a mutant-outcast-weirdo
9= you’ll look like a cancer patient (the ones without hair)
10+= you shouldn’t even be near this. go home.

After 19 drops, and the water not even close to turning white, I said “Laura, I don’t think people should be in the water.”
She said, “Yeah, you’re probably right. But I want you guys to swim. I’ll call Robbie (head guard) and see what he has to say. Then I’ll call Campus maintenance and see if they know what’s wrong.”

Robbie described what to do and Laura was like “Yeah we did that. The chlorine is way over 7.”

Then he asked who was guard on duty.

Laura was like “thereisnone.”
She didn’t want to rat off the guards, cause we have kind of a “speak no evil, see no evil, hear no evil” unwritten rule, and we all got each other’s backs.

Robbie started screaming in his South-African accent*. Then he remembered that he should quiet down becuase the border patrol might hear him and ship him back to Africa.

So we called matainence and they never showed up (surprise, surprise). The only time they show up is to dump larg buckets of chlorine into the pool and mess up the chemicals right after we swimmers adjust all the pumps and filters and make everything perfect.
There’s always something wrong with that pool I tell ya**.

*At age 19 he suddenly remembered that he had an accent.
** This picture proves it. That orange stuff is toxic mold. It only grows on that lane line hook between lanes 3 and 4. Everyday we scrub it off and everynight it grows back. It will kill us all, if the chlorine levels don’t get to us first.

Modest Mouse - Float On