When I first got interested in triathlon, my biggest apprehension was the swim. Overall, there was plenty to be apprehensive about. For starters, I’d never completed a 5k and I didn’t own a bike. Endurance sports were never my strong point. But what scared me more than anything was the thought of the swim.
I grew up at the beach, so I wasn’t afraid of the waves or the riptides. I will admit to a semi-controllable phobia of sharks and other less-real sea monsters, not to mention a complete disdain for cold water, but the real fear for me was that I didn’t know how to swim. That’s an exaggeration. I knew how to move around just fine in the water, I just always kept my head up. I’d been using an advanced dog paddle my entire life.
I’m the kind of guy who needs a goal to learn anything new, so I went online to sign up for a race. I looked all over the web with two criteria: 1) the race had to be in Southern California, and 2) the swim had to be short. I eventually found the Solana Beach Tri. The swim is the shortest of all Southern California triathlons–1/4 mile. This would be followed by a 12 mile bike and a 5k run.
At the time, I was living in Los Angeles, so I paid $3 a session to swim at the Santa Monica City College pool. In retrospect, it was an incredible facility with lots of great swimmers in the water. I watched some of them swim, then jumped in and started stroking.
The first distinct milestone I reached was learning to breate out while my head was under water. That made it so much easier to breate in when my head came up. My tone there is somewhat tounge-in-cheek, but this really did happen. It turns out that this is a common problem with first-time swimmers.
Next, I realized that I needed to breate on more consistent strokes. Initially, I was swimming until I was completely out of air, then coming up for a big breath. Sometimes I would go ten strokes without a breath. Since I could only breath on my right side, I began breathing every 4th stroke (I’m not entirely sure how to count strokes in this context, but I mean that I took a breath every other time my right hand came forward).
For three months I swam in this manner. Eventually, I was able to swim 32 laps without stopping and I felt ok about my upcoming race. In the meantime, I had been running up and down the San Vicente median, and riding my borrowed bike the requisite 12 miles.
On race day I made swimming breakthrough number three. About fifty yards into the swim I noticed that everybody was breathing every two strokes. For me, this would mean taking a breath every time my right arm came forward. I tried it until I hit the first bouy. Then I had my first taste of feet and arms and wetsuits, and I think even the ocean floor. And once I resurfaced I went back to my refined doggy paddle for the rest of the swim.
I finished the race in pedestrian fashion. My transition times totaled over ten minutes, and my bike and run were just barely passable, but I was hooked.
My swimming didn’t reach many breakthroughs for quite some time afterwards. I had terrible technique, and just kept getting stronger and better at swimming with poor technique. Sometime later, I happened to be swimming next to a guy who was getting a personal coaching session. His $200, and my good timing, meant free lessons for me.
I have to admit, I didn’t learn much directly, but I kept hearing the coach talk about “pressing the bouy”. I looked this phrase up on the internet afterwards, and came across Total Immersion.
This was back when I thought working harder was the only was to get better. It’s almost laughable to think of how I would sprint up and down the road on my bike as fast as I could go. My runs and swims were the same way. When I got tired, I’d stop until I could go again.
I would never have “wasted” the $20 on a book about swimming, but I found a copy at the library and took it on my next vacation. After just a few weeks of trying the drills and learning how to “press my bouy”, I could feel a difference in the water. I wasn’t blazing fast, but I could swim for much longer without tiring. In fact, the guy who had been taking the lessons could now swim almost effortlessly for what seemed like an eternity.
My swim times the following season were much faster, and I was fresh almost immediately coming out of the water. This was good enough for me until just recently. This season I’ve been swimming with a masters swim team, and the coaches have corrected at least half-a-dozen errors in my swimming. It turns out that the book explained the theory well, but what felt correct to me was visibly incorrect.
Here’s my final verdict on the Total Immersion book. I read the original version which is pictured above. I ended up buying a newer version recently, and it seems to be roughly the same. The reading is not engrossing by any means (and I’m a person who actually happens to prefer non-fiction) but it was well worth my time. It gave me a solid understanding of the fundamentals of TI swimming, and I actually improved quite a bit. The biggest benefit of reading the book came when I started swimming in coached practices. I feel like I’m able to catch on more quickly when the coach is describing a drill or helping me with my form because I already have an understanding of the concepts that are being taught. As I said, you may feel like you doing something exactly as it’s being described in the book, but ten degrees of angle here or there makes all the difference in the world, and it’s difficult to catch without a trained eye.
I will review the Freestyle: Made Easy DVD soon.




