You could say I’m obsessed with the butterfly; or, as swimmers who have actually mastered the stroke call it, the “fly.” In the past two years I’ve taken fly lessons from two different competitive swimmers to learn how to coordinate the arms, the legs, and the breathing. Last week, I finally put the three together in the correct rhythm.
It was an “aha!” moment, and it got me thinking. Why this interest in a stroke that I’ve avoided all my life?
When I took the first set of lessons, they were primarily a refresher course on the other strokes; although my instructor was a stickler for perfection and found a lot of flaws in the way I did them. I appreciated that since I’m of the opinion that if you’re going to spend time doing something you might as well do it correctly. Lessons are one way to go about this.
We reviewed the freestyle and the backstroke and the breaststroke and the elementary backstroke. Nobody reviews the sidestroke these days, so the only thing left was the butterfly. What the heck, I told myself, why not learn the proper way to throw oneself above the water, grab some air while defying gravity, keep your legs as one long fin, and gracefully move forward? Then do it with ease and gracefulness.
At my request, the second instructor focused only on the butterfly; and I began to feel the various parts coming together. For instance, you must start your breath at the moment your hands go into the water in front of you. You must breathe quickly and move your arms along your body. Then your head and chest must be down before your hands come out. Otherwise, they’ll never clear the water for the next stroke.
I am old enough to be either swim instructor’s grandmother. I am not built for speed. Nor do I desire to join the Senior Olympics. But learning something new that most people don’t attempt at my age was exhilarating. It makes me want to find something else and do it again.
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