Dear Former Self

Pieces of advice, tidbits of knowledge, even just awkward running-dialogue

by: Mike Gustafson, Senior Analyst

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Reflect back and write a letter to yourself. Who knows what you will learn!

07/15/10

On NPR last week, I heard a story that piqued my interest. Americans are writing themselves letters. They sit down at their computer, type in, "Dear Former Self," and begin to type. Pieces of advice, tidbits of knowledge, even just awkward running-dialogue:

Self: So...

Former Self: Yes?

Self: Um, so, um, how are you?

Former Self: (Pause). Don't talk to me.

The point of the exercise is cheap therapy. By bestowing advice and/or regret onto your imaginary (or not-so-imaginary) Former Self, you see your present situation perhaps a little differently.

For instance, if you write, "You shouldn't have left her," then the next time a beautiful woman comes your way, well, maybe you won't leave her.

When it comes to swimming advice, I can’t offer much to my Former Self. My experience was more a trial-and-error situation (similar to my life in general). But for the purposes of this column, here goes:

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Dear Former Self:

-If you skip practice, blame your bowels. Yeah, it’s disgusting. But hurt shoulders, broken alarm clocks, looming midterms, and forgotten directions will only get you into more trouble. That is, unless you pull the food poisoning/gastric infection card. Crowded pools and M.S.L.’s (Mysterious Speedo Leakings) are veritable get-out-of-practice free cards.

-The above scenario does not work on training trips.

-Go to Northwestern. But on your application to Yale, when they ask you to write 500 words about something they don’t know about you, don’t write in as your entire response, “I’m lazy.”

-Also don’t write about M.S.L. theories for said application.

-Use conditioner. Ripping your hair on account of mismanagement is disgusting, and impresses no woman of respectable quality.

-Cheer your teammates. When you’re 45, you will only remember teammates jumping up and down for you. Cheering is like karma; it will come back. No one will ever -- ever -- cheer for you in the professional world. When you’re 45, your coworkers will never hover outside your cubicle screaming your name, “LET’S GO BILL! LET’S CRANK IT UP!” as you prepare your expense report. Embrace it while it lasts.

-Swim after college. Work out. Move around. Do this as soon as you retire. Don’t wait until you’re 25 and girls confuse you with Biggest Loser cliental. That 4ish-pack jiggle-less abdomen you have? It’s not from eating 5 pizzas a week. Soon it will be a one-pack.

-If you shadow box behind the blocks, learn how to box. You look mildly confused, at best. No one wants to watch an awkward, skinny white boy gyrate behind the blocks a la a Middle School Fun Night Dance. Gary Hall Jr. shadow boxed because he won an Olympic Gold Medal. You have not.

-Skip class during taper. Skip your lectures, your tests, your quizzes, your obligations. You won’t miss the lecture, and you can make up your quizzes. Come up with an excuse. Because if it’s your senior year in the last season of your life – and you have one week before your big meet -- take a vacation from work and school and other goings-on unrelated to swimming. Unless your future job involves the market economy in the early colonies, you’re not missing anything.

-Practice will be tough. You might cry. If your coach sees you crying, it will be tougher. So don’t cry.

-Never ask what a “blivet” is.

-Forget winning. Forget about being like Kobe or Jordan. Most of the legendary winners would slit a throat to get to the top. There’s more to life than winning, just as there’s more to swimming than the top podium.

-You should never let another man shave your back. There is no excuse for this, especially in a co-ed campus. (Unless you enjoy men shaving your back, then hey, more power to you (I’m looking at you, West Hollywood Aquatics.))

-Compliment people after good practices; encourage them after bad ones. Hit them with paddles if they don’t do the same for you.

-Swimming is like food. Only eating cookie dough (50 breast) might be great today, but you would get better with balance. Swim the mile (uncooked potatoes), sprint the 50 (Pop Rocks), swim the 200 fly (McRib) for a healthy, balanced swim experience.

-You’ll learn your heroes aren’t that heroic. Your enemies aren’t that evil. So just worry about yourself, and your misshaped head.

-That moment behind the blocks? In the big championship meet? After a full season’s hardship, after taper, after everything you’ve went through? In that moment, look around. Take it all in. Remember the damp smell, the electric atmosphere, the way the water forms glass beneath your toes. Remember the way you look at yourself in the mirror in the bathroom, nervous, shaking, that look in your eyes like you’re going to put it all on the line this time. Remember seeing your parents in the stands, smiling at you, cheering for you. Remember your coaches high-fiving you, your teammates slapping your back as you walk to the blocks with the invincible leap of youth in your step. Remember, remember, remember.