In 2022, I logged the most swimming practices of any year. I found my way of life with this sport. Swimming became part of my identity.
When I met new people, the first topic of conversation was my goggle tan. How did you get that tan? Oh, I swim. Do you swim for a team? No, I just swim on my own but very consistently. How often do you swim? Almost every day.
I’d be rich if I had a nickel every time this conversation happened.
People would always say they recognized me from somewhere, but I had no recollection of them. It was my distinct face that made me memorable. And after meeting me, it’d be even easier to remember me. Max? He’s a swimmer.
Though I only swam an hour a day, it transformed my life. However, it didn’t come without its challenges. Swimming every day, seven times a week, was difficult at times. I only skipped practices because of vacations, retreats, or pool closures (and those times I did yoga).
As I reflect on swimming in 2022, I aim to prepare myself for an even better year of swimming in 2023. I also hope this reflection helps you avoid the mistakes I made so you can enjoy exercise more.
Timeline
January to May
I came in strong from 2021. As soon as I got home from my winter break vacation, I swam at a gym called LifeTime.
The LifeTime pool was indoors, dimly lit, four feet deep, and had five lanes. Whereas Spieker (the Berkeley pool) was outdoors, bright with sunlight, up to 13 feet deep, and had 18 lanes. I preferred Spieker, but LifeTime sufficed for the two weeks I spent in Chicago.
Coming back to Berkeley, I enthusiastically swam at Spieker. I received some swimming tips back in Chicago, so I applied these in my practice. It was during this time my swimming routine was created.
I swam a 10-minute continuous warm-up: 300 yards free (freestyle), followed by 150 yards back (backstroke) and 100 yards breast (breaststroke). Then, I swam the following three times: 3x100 free and 1x100 breast. Lastly, I did the following three times: 2x100 back and 1x100 breast. This routine took a bit less than an hour on average. If I finished before the hour mark, I did another 100 yards of some stroke.
During this time, swimming wasn’t too hard. There were certainly times when I didn’t want to swim, but overall it was the right amount of challenge. Or, maybe I remember it being easy because this period is more distant in my memory. But I’ll say it was easier than the later parts of the year.
June to August
School was out, and there were few distractions. There were no interruptions from athletic-event pool closures or club retreats, and I was the most consistent I had ever been. My goggle tan was more noticeable than ever, and swimming became cemented in my identity.
I swam the same routine as I did in the spring, but it took me five minutes longer on average to complete the routine. I didn’t think much about this slight time difference. My perceived exertion in swimming may have slightly gone up, but it was hard to notice. I had more energy for swimming since my life was less busy in the summer.
September to December
In early September, there was a heat wave in California. The pool was uncomfortably warm, but I persisted for those three days and swam the same routine. Looking back, I should’ve gone a bit easier. But I couldn’t imagine modifying my routine for even a day.
Those days were the first days I seriously did not want to swim. It was also the first time I felt a tiny panic when I jumped into the pool.
After two months, there were another few days when the pool was uncomfortably warm. The pool’s thermometer was faulty, heating the pool to 85 degrees Fahrenheit (79-80 degrees is normal). I still pushed myself to do the same routine, which was difficult at this temperature.
One of those days, I was swimming my warmup and could not bring myself to do the rest of my practice in that heat. I felt a huge sense of panic with my face in the warm water, so I jumped out and went home to do yoga instead. Skipping swimming deeply disturbed the routine-loving guy I was, and I felt bad for not pushing through.
The pool was fixed and I continued to swim the same routine, which was now taking me an extra five minutes on average to complete. Compared with the spring, this was nearly ten minutes more per practice. As a whole, swimming felt tougher.
When Spieker was closed because of athletic events, I used the warmer Golden Bear Pool. I decided to swim all backstroke because I couldn’t bear to keep my face in the water and feel the panic. On those days, I felt guilty that I couldn’t accomplish my routine even though I showed up and still swam.
My rationale was that if I didn’t do my routine, I was getting weaker. If I had swam this routine in the spring and summer, and now I wasn’t able to, I was getting weaker. And my ego would not let that happen.
It was getting harder for me to complete the routine, so I unknowingly began to put more pressure on my training. Occasionally, when I jumped into the water, I felt an inkling of panic. However, the panic quickly faded as practice went on.
Winter break
After I flew home to Chicago for winter break, I swam at LifeTime. When I jumped in for the first practice, I felt a slightly larger sense of panic but I was able to quell it.
The next day, I couldn’t quell the panic so I did only backstroke instead. The pool wasn’t uncomfortably warm or anything, so I reasoned my panic was because the pool was more shallow and less bright than I was used to.
I did another backstroke-only day, got sick the day afterward, and stopped swimming. Though I recovered from the sickness in a few days, I didn’t go back to swimming. I didn’t look forward to swimming and instead did yoga for the remaining week at home. Afterwards, my family and I went on vacation in Portugal, and then I returned to Berkeley and started swimming again.
I took a three-week break from swimming, the lengthiest break I’ve taken in a long time.
Returning to the pool
I was nervous for the first practice after my three-week break. At the time, I didn’t know why. But I do now: I was scared that I would still have a sense of panic and be only comfortable doing backstroke; that I wouldn’t want to swim; that I would need an even longer break from swimming.
But I jumped in. And thank goodness it was okay.
That practice, I gave little thought to my routine and did whatever I could. I did less than half of what I normally did. But I was happy. I was grateful. I was relieved that swimming was still with me.
The next few days, I still did half of what I normally did. I felt bad about myself but told myself that it was okay; that I showed up and did what I felt like doing, and that was enough; that it would take time for my body to get back to where it was before the break.
I never wanted to risk losing swimming ever again. I needed to find out where I went wrong.
Reflection
Where I went wrong
Some aspects of my swimming were correct when it came to consistent exercise. I rested until I felt ready to do another few laps, adjusting the intensity to fit my energy. And I never rendered myself incapable of training tomorrow by giving it 100% today.
But I messed up when I placed such high pressure and expectation on my workout, causing me to overexert myself when I couldn’t meet those expectations. This pressure was completing my routine every practice. It grew on me so subtly that I didn’t even notice it until I look back on it now.
Here’s what happened.
At the beginning of the year, I crafted my routine and began to do it every day. It was the right amount of challenge so I kept doing it with no issues. During the summer, my perceived exertion was slightly higher with the routine, but I also had more energy. So when school started in the fall, I fully expected to do the routine every day.
I had to meet this expectation even when the pool was uncomfortably warm during the heat wave. I swam harder than I should have, giving it 85% or 90% when I should’ve given it 70%.
Alone, the occasional extra exertion was okay. It’s not like one day could wipe me out. I would still be ready to swim tomorrow. But maybe I was just a bit more tired tomorrow. Regardless of tiredness, I had to complete the routine tomorrow. And to complete the routine, I had to give it more effort.
Though practices began to feel more tiring, I wouldn’t let go of the pressure to complete the routine, so my average level of exertion increased. However, this increase wasn’t too noticeable: some days I just happened to have more energy, and club retreats and pool closures had me skip some practices.
It started getting rough during the second bout of uncomfortably warm water in early November. It was during that time I experienced severe panic.
At the time, I thought the panic was a physiological response to the heat (like when you put your face in a hot tub). Now, I realize that while there was some heat-induced discomfort, the pressure to finish the routine is what elevated the discomfort into a panic.
Because of the heat-initiated panic, I had to go easier and do the backstroke-only routine when the pool was too warm. However, I couldn’t take advantage of the benefits of going easier. My mind was deeply agitated because I didn’t live up to the expectation of completing the normal routine.
Even after the pool temperature was fixed, I didn’t fully recover. Jumping into the pool felt different as I grew sensitive to the water temperature. Swimming just didn’t feel the same. After a little more than a month of this, I headed to Chicago for winter break.
The beginning of my realization
I quelled my panic during the first practice in Chicago but couldn’t on the second, so I started doing backstroke only from the second practice onwards. I thought the dimly lit and shallow pool was the root cause of the panic.
However, it struck me as odd that I swam at LifeTime just fine last year. But I reasoned this time was different because I was so acclimated to Spieker. Whereas last year I swam in Spieker for less than four months before going back to LifeTime, this year I swam in Spieker for an entire year before going back.
I realized something else contributed more to the panic: last year I swam without pressure, but this year I swam with large pressure. There might have been some discomfort from the poor pool conditions, but the pressure turned the discomfort into a panic.
After getting sick and stopping swimming, I didn’t want to resume even when I had recovered. At that moment, it dawned on me that I overdid it.
The pieces come together
Until then, I had never felt once that I was overdoing that year. I thought I had learned my lesson from my days of bodybuilding when I seriously overtrained. To be fair, I overdid it to a much lower degree this time.
How do I know? Let me explain. Insomnia can be used as a benchmark for overtraining. It was only during the last week before Chicago that I had mild difficulty falling asleep. It took me 30-45 minutes longer than average to fall asleep. Whereas, with bodybuilding, it took me 60-75 minutes longer than average to fall asleep, which spanned nearly eight months.
New year, new approach
This break has given me time to think about how I want to reapproach swimming. If I’m not careful, the pressure, expectation, and overexertion can slowly creep up. In the heat of things, It’s hard to notice when I’m overdoing it.
Going forward, I must let go of pressure and expectations and learn when to take it easier.
I plan to use my routine as a guide instead of the ultimate rule. If I wanted to, I could swim a shorter warmup, skip some hundreds here or there, or gently float on my back for the last quarter of practice. I’ll swim an hour, and when I hit the hour mark, I should feel as if I could’ve done a bit more but cut it short. After all, that’s what 70% is.
If the pool is too warm and putting my face in the warm water is uncomfortable, I’ll do the all-backstroke routine with no guilt. If I can’t swim because of a pool closure or club retreat, I’ll make the most of my break instead of resenting it. Essentially, if my routine is interrupted, I’ll accept it.
This is all easier said than done. I know I’ll feel a bit guilty if I’ve gone easier than I think I should have. But with time, I hope this becomes my new norm and routine.
Lessons Learned
Let go of progression obsession
It’s not comfortable realizing I can’t complete the routine as easily as I did last year. It’s not comfortable acknowledging that I swim slower than before. It’s not comfortable admitting I may not maintain a body as lean or as strong.
But in the end, does it matter whether I swim a bit less yardage per practice? Does it matter if I shave a few seconds off my 100 free? Does it matter whether my abs get just a bit more defined?
What matters is that I enjoy swimming. And when I enjoy it, I maintain the habit of exercise which will keep me strong and healthy for a lifetime.
Maybe I could be faster, leaner, and stronger if I pushed it. But it would be momentary. I would have to take a break eventually. This time, the break was three weeks. Who knows how long next time will be? Six weeks? Six months? By then I would’ve lost all the progress I made and far more.
In the end, I make greater progress and enjoy swimming by letting go of progression expectations and giving it a reasonable effort.
Give 70%
How do I know when I’m truly giving it 70%? How do I know if I’m just being lazy or if I actually need to go easier?
Evaluating my 70% is still a work in progress. It’s tough because my 70% changes every day: maybe the water is too warm; maybe my body is adjusting to the Chicago environment; or maybe it’s finals week and I have a lot of things on my mind. But with time and experience, I’ll get better at figuring my 70% out.
Stop comparing
My UC Berkeley swim team friends train for much longer at high intensities. Maybe I should go harder. But I should remember they are in a different situation. It’s not an apples-to-apples comparison. I should also recall my high school swim team friends who have never returned to the sport after graduating.
But I can compare myself with my past self, can’t I? That should be an apples-to-apples comparison, right? Nope. Circumstances change, seasons change, work responsibilities change, and so does your 70%. Life is change. Your performance will not always be better or even maintain the same levels as before. It may even be worse for months or years.
For example, consider seniors. They’ll never perform the way they did before. Should they just stop exercising altogether, simply because their performance will be consistently worse than before?
Just showing up, doing your best, and giving 70% is enough. What matters is that you continue to train.
It’ll be a process for me to internalize these lessons. But I think I’ve already made some progress.
A New Beginning
In the first workouts after my three-week break, I hit 70% exertion early on. I felt the practice would be too short if I ended it there, so I floated on my back and slowly kicked. As I gazed into the wispy clouds and blue sky with the birds flying by, I realized being in the water did not have to mean exertion. Water could mean peace, calmness, and bliss.
I had unknowingly associated water with panic through my intense practices. Now, this association was fading.
I’m glad I only needed a three-week break to get back into swimming. But I know others who needed much longer breaks to get back into exercise. At least they got back into it.
Whatever fitness journey you’re on, I hope it is a consistent one.