7:07 AM
Wake up naturally.
8:04 AM
Actually get up.
8:10 AM
Toss suits, caps, goggles (spares for everything!) in the bag, trudge out the door, down the hall, plop down for breakfast. Plot how to escape the 200 butterfly.
8:37 AM
Still have no idea.
9:03 AM
Bus to the pool. Spend warm up wondering whether camels can swim. Afterwards look it up.
The Rest of the Morning
Meet. And people asking if I had gone to see the rodeo last night. (I didn’t.)
12:13 PM
Bus back to hotel. Diagram ways to escape 200 butterfly finals. Fall asleep while figuring out how to drain the pool.
3:37 PM
Alarm. Bolt out of bed to catch return bus to pool for finals. Contemplate asking bus driver to abduct me.
4:24 PM
Scope out locker room for good hiding places. Too many witnesses.
4:27 PM
The Oklahoma song plays. The National Anthem is sung. Still no plan.
4:30 PM
Meet start. Tiny swimmers swim. Pros rescue them. Still no plan.
6:10 PM
Line up for A final. Still. No. Plan.
6:12 – 6:14 PM
That wasn’t so bad.
9:00 PM
Dinner, bus ride home, more dinner. (We are actually hobbits.)
The pros gather with the officials and the rest of the meet staff. There are thank yous, shout outs, come-again-next-years. People grin, people laugh, people chatter.
People take note that this is the 23rd year of a Pro-Am in OKC. People take note of the fact that this year, the host club isn’t sponsored by some big corporation. People take note that this is a home-grown affair – fostered by the love of a coach for a team, the love of parents for their children, the love of athletes for this sport.
People say thank yous again, but words can’t catch everything that has been done for us in the past few days. Eventually people run short of attempts and stand around talking about not-swimming things instead. But everyone knows, in that visceral way human beings have of understanding things, that we have been a part of something amazing, even if we can’t vocalize it. That we have done something great, even if we are still struggling to understand how.
We’ll know, next year, when that teenager we talked to on deck comes back for the touch-out. Or that age grouper starts insisting her favorite stroke is butterfly. Or breaststroke. Or the mile. When starry-eyed faces say, “I want to be like you when I grow up,” or better yet, just do it.
11:51 PM
Say fare thee wells, return to room. Pack. (Read: search every cranny of hotel room for unopened power bars, stuff suitcase, dither over which socks are least chlorine-y, finally leave out warm ups to wear home.)
Contemplate bed, and the great miracle, that after a meet is done, I finally don’t want to nap.
Thank you for your view of our ProAm. It was an amazing weekend. We were both thankful and blessed to have all of you and many of the nations top teams in attendance. I was blessed to have been a part of it along with so many other families. I am already looking forward to next year! Safe travels and Merry Christmas!!
Love the diary and great job at the meet as well Hannah!