The pool and training duty for the brat is primarily the pappa's but yesterday I decided to accompany them to see what the brat was up to. We landed at the pool, located a ten minute drive away from where we live to find the first hurdle that must always be crossed re anything that happens in this city--No Parking. Having done the panic panic hunt for appropriate parking space that didn't block a gate or a bus stop and such like, we finally managed to get the car in safe spot and moved towards the pool.
Many children, from as young as five to the twelve thirteen year olds, doing their warm ups and running around the ground, before getting into their swimming costumes, while we, at least me and some of the other moms present at the venue, shivered as the cold winds hit us, ah well, it was a chilly evening in Mumbai, I kid you not, and I am shamed to say I discovered a spot in the wall where the hot blast from a split ac positioned in the club, was and spent the better part of the evening toasting myself there, rather than get my blood frozen into icicles which would then slash the blood vessels resulting in internal bleeding...ah well, you get my drift.
Anyway, there I was, shivering in a cotton kurti while the brat swam for an hour and a half in an unheated pool. I need a spoonful of water to jump into the drown self in shame and such like.
The brat is right now the slowest in his batch. He has also just begun being professionally coached. What he was doing in the building complex swimming pool, with the lifeguard turned coach who haunts those premises, as I see it now, was mere, as they say it in the colloquial, timepass. This is the real stuff, the gruelling stuff. The continuous laps of an Olympic sized pool with no rest between laps, breathing exercises, the focus on technique arm movement.
I hope he is enjoying himself. He hasn't complained yet, though I've been grumbling to the spouse on the sly that his schedule is too rigorous, only to get slammed with the reply that children much younger than him are doing it. He goes 5.30 am to 7 am alternated days for swimming, and for dry land exercises at the same time on the days they dont have swimming. And swimming practice from 8 pm to 9.30 pm every single day. School 7.45 am to 2 pm. I haven't heard him whine, "I'm boredt wottudo." for a while now. He has no time. We stopped his karate post school activity because he wasn't enjoying it, he said and this was intensive a daily schedule enough for him. To his credit, he is awake bright eyed and bushy at 5 am and gets brushed, dressed and set without any grumbling, dragging feet, etc.
On the flip I think, it tires him out, keeps him busy and away from the mindless scrapping that is a daily affair down at the park. Also, respect to all the parents who put their children through the kind of rigorous routine required for them to make a mark for themselves in a sport. I honestly had no clue, not being a sporting person myself. While the child does the training and the workouts and the practice, the back up and the support needed is tremendous. I hope, if the brat takes to swimming well, I will be able to provide the kind of back up that will be needed. In the two weeks, he's been doing this training, I've already realised that life, as we all knew it, has changed irrevocably.
Many children, from as young as five to the twelve thirteen year olds, doing their warm ups and running around the ground, before getting into their swimming costumes, while we, at least me and some of the other moms present at the venue, shivered as the cold winds hit us, ah well, it was a chilly evening in Mumbai, I kid you not, and I am shamed to say I discovered a spot in the wall where the hot blast from a split ac positioned in the club, was and spent the better part of the evening toasting myself there, rather than get my blood frozen into icicles which would then slash the blood vessels resulting in internal bleeding...ah well, you get my drift.
Anyway, there I was, shivering in a cotton kurti while the brat swam for an hour and a half in an unheated pool. I need a spoonful of water to jump into the drown self in shame and such like.
The brat is right now the slowest in his batch. He has also just begun being professionally coached. What he was doing in the building complex swimming pool, with the lifeguard turned coach who haunts those premises, as I see it now, was mere, as they say it in the colloquial, timepass. This is the real stuff, the gruelling stuff. The continuous laps of an Olympic sized pool with no rest between laps, breathing exercises, the focus on technique arm movement.
I hope he is enjoying himself. He hasn't complained yet, though I've been grumbling to the spouse on the sly that his schedule is too rigorous, only to get slammed with the reply that children much younger than him are doing it. He goes 5.30 am to 7 am alternated days for swimming, and for dry land exercises at the same time on the days they dont have swimming. And swimming practice from 8 pm to 9.30 pm every single day. School 7.45 am to 2 pm. I haven't heard him whine, "I'm boredt wottudo." for a while now. He has no time. We stopped his karate post school activity because he wasn't enjoying it, he said and this was intensive a daily schedule enough for him. To his credit, he is awake bright eyed and bushy at 5 am and gets brushed, dressed and set without any grumbling, dragging feet, etc.
On the flip I think, it tires him out, keeps him busy and away from the mindless scrapping that is a daily affair down at the park. Also, respect to all the parents who put their children through the kind of rigorous routine required for them to make a mark for themselves in a sport. I honestly had no clue, not being a sporting person myself. While the child does the training and the workouts and the practice, the back up and the support needed is tremendous. I hope, if the brat takes to swimming well, I will be able to provide the kind of back up that will be needed. In the two weeks, he's been doing this training, I've already realised that life, as we all knew it, has changed irrevocably.
1 comment:
Wow, K, that does seem rigorous. Good luck to him--and your family! :)
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