Day in the Life: Marcia Benjamin, Day 2

Sometimes, he works out on the Vasa trainer we have in the backyard (oddly enough our neighbors only have barbecues). We're the household that needs to go to bed at 9 p.m., which makes us a little like the Amish kids on the block. Don't bother the Benjamins, their spinning wheel is off the hook. It wouldn't be so bad except we never find out who wins on American Idol until we talk to normal people on Thursdays.

If you ever wondered who Unattached Masters are, they take many forms. Some swim for me, at the bargain-price of 20 bucks for 18 weeks of (great) coaching, four times per week, ($10 in the summer). I coach from 6-7 a.m. and again from 12-1 p.m. Because I work the Fall, Spring, and Summer sessions, there are only a random three or four weeks off between semesters all year long. Really, how good a deal are the Community Colleges in California? I call it the World's Cheapest Health Club.

After today there is only one day left in the semester, and then I can finally swim at my leisure, and clean up some of the mounds that seem to sprout up on every flat surface in the house. On the last week of class, I bring out my swim "toys" and set up stations in each lane. Since I'm a serious swim nerd, I've bought just about everything they make through the years. I have resistance tubing in different thicknesses, tubing with two belts for a tug-of-war, five different shapes of paddles, a parachute, a Tech Toc, center-mount snorkel and breaststroke fins.

I have lots of homemade stuff to use, too: PVC sticks to do catch-up freestyle, an enormous t-shirt to wear while swimming, a plastic cup to fill with water and balance on your forehead while doing backstroke, cut-up tubes from truck tires to figure-eight around your ankles, and two tennis balls to hold in your hands while swimming freestyle. The cup is one of the funniest to watch. The good backstrokers look terrific at that drill, while the others look like really bad waiters at a party. Another really entertaining one for the coach is watching people swim any of the four strokes with a grapefruit under their chin. You can't see me laughing up on deck, but I really do. In fact, I laugh a lot.

I finally got off my butt and swam today after my last class. Not everyone swims in fabulous Aquatic Centers. Though I work in a great facility, I never train there because people would bother me too much. I like to go to a small club that my family belongs to near our house. Almost all the swimmers there wear really dorky goggles and put in their 20 laps before calling it a day. Training there also makes me look like Marcia, God of All Swimming – which is nice. The pool has faded targets and a black line on the bottom that is light grey, but there is a hot tub and nice showerheads. Unfortunately, the pool is kept at 82 degrees, which always feels good when you first get in, but about halfway into your main set you feel like your head is just going to fly off. I can only swim well in the morning, because in the afternoons there are always beach balls flying in and out of my lane, and the sound that really makes me look for a ledge: "Marco . . . Polo."

Today, my main set was a 500 on 7:30, 5 x 100 on 1:30, and another 500 swim with paddles (no breaks). My first 500 was 6:58, the 100s were all 1:19 and the last 500 was 6:46. I try to do paddle swimming at the end of sets because I think it increases my strength and improves my catch, especially when I'm tired. But I have a two-beat kick and so it entirely changes my stroke. It took me a month to even beat my paddle-less times when I was wearing the big red monsters, but now I feel comfortable in them and stronger.

Though the water was warm as usual, because the day was overcast there was only one other person in the pool. Unfortunately he was on his back, sculling at his sides and doing some sort of bicycle kick that was one notch up on the exercise-meter from lying on the couch watching ESPN. Did I mention he was doing perimeters? Just scooting around the eight-lane pool, backwards, ducking under lanelines about as fast as syrup oozing across my kitchen table. (Ha. As though my daughter would spill!) Every lap I lived in fear that I wouldn't see him in time and come flying into his gut on a flipturn as he was meandering on his way. He said he was doing his "mile." Glad I caught him at the end.

Swimmingly, best fishes, IM,