Literally. Because we had to be out of the house by 6:15 am and I forgot deodorant. I just sat down at the computer and got a good whiff of myself. Now that I’ve regained consciousness, let me tell you about Emma’s first swim meet.
Like I said, we had to leave the house bright and early at 6:15 am. We pulled out of the driveway at 6:25. No worries, we still managed to arrive in plenty of time. Emma went to check in with her coaches and start warming up, while I staked out a primo viewing area, complete with lounge chair and a friend to gossip cheer with. The meet was set to begin at 7:00. At 6:50, the head meet dude (I have no idea what his official title is) started announcing that he needed parents to volunteer to be timers. At 6:55, he repeated his plea. At 7:00, he started begging. “How hard can it be?” I thought to myself. And off I went to volunteer my services. I’ve really got to stop doing that.
I was given a stopwatch and a clipboard, and strategically placed myself in lane 3, so that I would be able to see all of Em’s races. As it turns out, lane 3 is the busiest, most difficult lane to time. Definitely not for novices. Luckily, I was paired up with Psycho Mom from the opposing team. She was very nice, but WAY too into swimming. The swimmers began giving us their event cards and lining up. The whistle blew three times, the horn blew, and….I totally missed it. Who knew I would actually have to pay attention? Oh, and the cushy front seats we were promised – not so fast, Jennifer, because you will have to hop up and RUN to the edge of the pool during each race to see the exact millisecond when the little racer’s arm hits the wall.
So my morning consisted of me jumping up and down like a bunny for five hours in the blistering sun while attempting to keep accurate records and figure out what the stroke judges meant by phrases such as “DQ underwater recovery,” and strange hand motions which could either mean that the swimmer in question did a dolphin kick or the stroke judge was having an epileptic fit all while sitting next to a crazed co-timer who knew FAR more than the official stroke judges and was very vocal about sharing her expertise with them when she wasn’t asking me why I didn’t swim competitively or run marathons. Good times were had by all. And those stroke judges were very picky. I had no idea swimming was so technical. Keep those arms even, kids.
Oh, was this supposed to be about Emma? She had a great time. She chose to break herself in slowly, and only entered two events. She finished second in her heats both times! Second to last, that is. But hey, not bad for her first ever swim meet.