Ice on the Pool Deck

My vision of swimming hell looks something like this: Floodlights pierce the dark, illuminating groups of groggy, goggled men and women huddling around hulking, wheeled contraptions, cranking pool covers onto massive metallic cylinders like giant blue window shades. The figures are hooded and parka’d against the chilly pre-dawn air. It’s 5:40 a.m. Time to swim.
Now the fretting begins, for the only thing more odious to the Masters swimmer than removing pool covers is exposing the vast majority of his derma (more precisely, everything not covered by a wee bit of Lycra at his midsection) to the piercing cold. Here it goes. Off with the sweats, move quickly to the pool’s edge. Curse mother and father for conceiving you and introducing you to swimming. Utter (or shout) favorite expletive. Jump in.

Off-season woes
The fall and winter months can test the commitment and resolve of the most dedicated Masters swimmer. With no meet on the horizon to prepare for and no promise of a bright, warm morning to wake to, most right-minded people turn the other cheek when the alarm goes off at 5:20. Who needs the miserable pool-cover routine, the feet that don’t defrost till lunch?

Last year, I was in danger of hibernating through the winter beneath the cozy warmth of my goose-down comforter, my latissimus dorsi and pectoralis major shrinking, my waistline expanding. That was before I learned of the Killer Quad. You read right. The Killer Quad.

Masters motivation
The Quad is the insidious brainchild of my Masters swim coach, Tim. He realized several years back that as the days get shorter, so does the participant list at workouts. He had to do something to keep us motivated through the fall and winter. The Quad was the answer.

Taking advantage of the parade of holidays that begins near the end of the year, the KQ is a series of four swims, each one tougher than the last. The first is on Halloween, followed by swims on Thanksgiving morning, Christmas Eve and New Year’s Day.

The Quad appealed to my goal-oriented side. It was just what I needed to fend off the temptation to hibernate through fall and winter and lose the months of fitness I’d worked hard to build during spring and summer. I’d be there for the first swim—one hour straight—on Halloween.

It worked! Eighty of my teammates showed up on Halloween for Killer Quad Part I. The large number of us charged the atmosphere around the pool with as much excitement as I’d felt in my trick-or-treating days. Some used the hour to see how many yards they could swim, while others grabbed boards and gabbed with one another as they kicked side by side, back and forth. The goal was to go straight for an hour. It didn’t matter how.

The Quad progression
Travel plans whittled down the group for the Thanksgiving swim, a challenging 50 x 100-yard set on short rest (swim 100 yards, rest briefly, repeat 49 times). Still, there were enough of us that we were crammed six and seven into a lane. As we approached the halfway mark, people began collectively fantasizing about the Thanksgiving meal—the mashed potatoes, the stuffing, the turkey—they would soon be enjoying. If there’s one thing that’ll get me through a tough swim set, it’s the thought of food. Two swims down, two to go.

The genius of the Killer Quad is that the swims become progressively harder. After Halloween and Thanksgiving, the next swim, on Christmas Eve morning, is 75 x 100s. The last, biggest, baddest swim is 100 x 100s, a whopping 10,000 yards (almost six miles) on New Year’s Day. So you’ve got to stay in some sort of shape or you simply won’t make it.

A Not-so-Killer Quad
Try your own Killer Quad swim workout this year. If you’re not up for the four distances—one hour swim, followed in the ensuing weeks by a 5,000-, 7,500-, and then 10,000-yard workout—scale it down. You could do: 1/2-hour swim 50 x 50 yards 75 x 50 yards 100 x 50 yards or: 1/4-hour swim 50 x 25 yards 75 x 25 yards 100 x 25 yards

Shortly after Thanksgiving I learned I’d be traveling to the East Coast to spend Christmas with my family. But Coach Tim’s rules were strict: You couldn’t perform the Christmas Eve swim from a remote location. I would miss Part III, but rather than dwelling on the disappointment of not completing the entire KQ, I was already looking ahead to the swim on New Year’s. To complete it I’d have to swim consistently through the rest of November and December. No winter hibernation. No snooze bar.

The finale
When New Year’s Day finally came, I was shocked to see how many people came out for the last, most difficult swim. Even people who hadn’t done any of the previous installments were there to test their aquatic endurance. As a result, Coach Tim had to create a second session at our cramped pool to accommodate everyone. Water bottles filled with high-carb sports drinks lined an entire edge of the pool, like some pilgrim offering to the god of chlorine. Not to be outdone, one person brought a full case of energy gel in case anyone had forgotten theirs’.

Those of us in the second session stood alongside the pool deck urging on the first group, who were now just five or six 100’s from the end of their marathon swim. My stomach tightened as I thought of myself in their place just moments from now. On their faces, expressions of exhaustion competed with looks of elation. They seemed at once ready to let out a victory shout, or break down sobbing. Moments later, they emerged from the pool pruned and quivering with fatigue, but beaming with pride. My apprehension began to melt away as I pictured myself doing the same in just a few hours.

Twenty-seven swimmers in my Masters group, ranging in age from 25 to 65, finished last year’s Killer Quad. And while I didn’t complete the Quad, I stayed motivated and fit through the winter months. More importantly, I was part of an emerging tradition that reinvigorates our sense of community and pride in the team. And hey, there’s always this year...