Just how on earth do they do it?

The single sport specialists sometimes refer to those of us who move from sport to sport as "nothing-writers".  It is assumed that we know nothing about any sport, and that we just make sweeping conclusions about personality based on little knowledge and less understanding. This attitude is mainly jocular, it must be said. And besides, most of us nothing-writers not only have but actively cultivate a good relationship with the specialists. We need them, after all.

We each have a different perspective. But that doesn't mean that a nothing-writer can't be overcome with a sudden and capricious fascination with technique. Sometimes  you do, indeed, hear the specialists discussing technique while we nothing-writers make our airy generalisations. In swimming, these are almost always about seconds and tenths.

But I was at the open water swim this morning, the women's marathon, and I had one of those sudden how-do-they-do-it fits. They cover 10 kilometres in two hours: it's an impressive, and its own way, enthralling spectacle. And I noticed something that is part of the bleedin' obvious for swimming specialists: these marathon swimmers don't kick.

In the pool, the sprinters kick the water into Guinness. But here, they hardly kick at all. Fortunately, Craig Lord, swimming correspondent of The Times, not only knows everything about swimming but it delighted to pass his knowledge on. He explained that these swimmers use a single kick for each stroke of the arm: "like walking" Craig said.

In the pool, the freestyle stroke is very different. Michael Phelps, the octuple gold medal winner, kicks six times to the stroke. But that is not energy efficient over two hours. This explains two things: (a) why marathon swimmer don't kick up a froth and (b) why Nathalie du Toit, the brilliant South African amputee swimmer, can compete with able-bodied swimmers and qualify for the Olympic Games.

In open water swimming, it is upper body strength that really matters, and du Toit is wonderfully strong here. Her disadvantage is far less than it would be in the sprints. She finished 16th over all: and if that doesn't make even a sportswriter -- even a nothing-writer -- humble, nothing will.

Comments

[Vinod Joseph]

Surely, even the “nothing-writers" will have a sport or two in which they are “more knowledgeable” than the others.

[Chris]

I was interested to know why Simon should feel 'humbled' at the sight of an athlete performing at her peak? Is it because of her amputation? (It is not a phrase I have seen him use in reference to the performance of able-bodied athletes.) If so, then the phrase is (at best) patronising and is (sadly) typical of the pervasive view that most able-bodied people have of people with impairments - that they are to be pitied, that they are not really 'normal' and that anything approaching a 'normal performance' is a truly 'awe inspiring' event. Disabled people find this attitude deeply depressing.

[Allan]

Simon - so very glad you made it to the weightlifting and the magnificent and moving Steiner. If anything proved how enthralling and how challenging and audacious this sport is, it was that victory of his. Wasn't he magnificent?
All human life was there...

[owen 'mshengu' greenland]

Not only did Nathalie compete, but she finished in 16th place ... barely a minute behind the winner! Now, that is what I call amazing.

Being one who has done several 1 mile swims as well as several triathlons I can assure you that it is the support of the kick that plays a large role in propelling one through the water.

I recall swimming flooded Caledon River between Lesotho and South Africa which had risen 30 feet in half an hour; hurricane seas with twenty foot swells at Scottsborough and barely making it out alive ... but for the strength of my kicking along with using my senses.

So, to our Boere Noointjie I say ... HURRAH!!!

[Mike]

Chris,

Whatever. Give the PC nonsense a rest. The fact that an amputee can compete with fully able bodied athletes is incredible and I feel the same way, humbled. It's an amazing achievement.

[Chris]

Mike.

I can assure you it's not PC nonsense. If Simon was writing his report and was a wheelchair user, I am sure he would feel equally offended if someone stated that they were 'humbled' that he could write so well. It is a patronising and unnecessary remark. Let's just agree that Nathalie's swim was a great performance from a great athlete; and forget the need to to feel humbled!

[James]

Chris,
What you don't seem to grasp is that Miss Du Toit was swimming with a physical disadvantage in a highly competitive physical activity. The very fact she is thus disadvantaged and still managed to come 16th is what is remarkable.
However, it would be patronising to remark on Simon's writing skills as amazing if he were in a wheelchair, as his physical disability would have no bearing on his mental ability.
Thus on this occasion it is possible to feel humbled but not be at the same time be patronizing.

[Chris]

James,

I am afraid it is you who have missed the point. The point is that disabled people find it very irritating to be told that their activities make able-bodied people feel 'humbled'. The phrase 'humbled' has such patronising overtones. This is what I was objecting to. My analogy with Simon's writing skills was perhaps on refection not a good one. I hope that clears it up?

[Tim Footman]

Chris,

By your logic, we should cancel the Paralympics and Special Olympics, so all athletes with disabilities can compete in an open field. Anything else would be 'patronising'. While we're at it, should we remove the distinctions between male and female competitors?

[another James]

Chris et al
"Humbled" is a bit of clichéd expression when used by the able bodied to describe their emotional response to someone who clearly refuses to allow their disability to hold them back. Simon is describing his own emotional reaction. He is entitled to do so and is more than able to describe his feelings accurately: so if he felt humbled, then humbled it is. My response is to feel admiration for someone who makes so much of their abilities tinged with guilt that I make comparatively much less with mine - maybe humbled is shorthand for that sensation?