I vow over and over "never again", but next thing I know, there I am doing
it all over again. Morning training. That's what I mean, what did you think?
Before 6:00am I may look like a recidivist drunk but I'm actually doing it
for the state of my health. Come to think of it, at that time of the morning
I normally feel like I have a hang over, but ever since I found out what was
causing them I rarely wake up with a real one nowadays. There are two types
of people who go to morning training. There are those who want to get to the
top of their sport, and there are those like me who just can't stop
themselves. It is a source of sadistic encouragement to me that the young
tigers don't seem to feel any better than me at that unearthly hour. In the
pitch dark they don't look any better either.

A few poor devils turn up by bike, and stand around covered in frost before
the pool opens, muffled in as much clothing as they can wear to replicate
the duvet they were clinging to until a few minutes ago. Those like me who
drive, or even better are driven, to the pool, sit in the car with the
heater full on and the seats reclined, dozing until some inconsiderate
council worker arrives and opens up. The exceptions are the triatheletes
who, being certifiable lunatics, run everywhere with a rucksack full of
equipment on their back. This has the unfortunate effect of waking them up,
and if they have to wait outside, instead of dozing or grumbling with us
mere mortals, they perform near impossible stretching exercises, or hold
press-ups competitions.

Inside the pool the fuggy overnight air serves only to deepen the
sleepwalking atmosphere, as the parent-taxi-drivers go and fall asleep again
in the viewing area while the swimmers take refuge in seeing how long they
can take to get changed. Eventually they have to bow to the peer pressure of
Coaches Favourite, who strips off and strides towards the pool with
enthusiasm - the little rat. Having recently been in bed, the body is warm
and vulnerable at that point in the proceedings, and such things as cold
foot baths serve only to improve long jump performance and raise questions
over the parentage of swimming pool designers. Clearly such architects have
never trained in the morning. With the bed-warm body, even the warmest pool
has the dangerous effect of waking you up in a hurry when you dive (well,
you dive - I jump) in. What is needed is a pool which is 50oc at 6:00am and
reduces to about 20oC by the end of training. This would allow you to wake
up gradually, and as you warm up with the exercise, the progressive cooling
of the pool would invigorate you. You may notice that this ideal space age
pool ends up quite a bit cooler than most indoor pools actually run at. This
is intentional, because any swimmer working properly will come out of the
training session sweating in a conventional pool. Cooler water would
invigorate the swimmer, improve their social life and cut their laundry
bill. It would also kill off the annoying public session which follows
morning training. But I digress.

The 'warm up' in the morning should be extended to account for the half
dozen or so lengths it takes for rational thought to return after the shock
of waking up to find yourself immersed in a swimming pool. For the same
reason, coaches who try to give sets too far in advance to comatose swimmers
are wasting their time. Initially they should be satisfied with, "swim up
and down a bit, and come and see me when you can remember your name ".

Then comes the training, about which the least said is soonest mended. I
suppose it amuses the odd milkman or postman (no-one else in their right
mind is up then) who may happen to look in the big windows. By the end you
actually feel quite virtuous, and very hungry. Breakfast is a must, and
afterwards your reward is to amaze all those people who arrive at
school/work etc., fuzzy headed straight from bed, with your bright eyes,
clear brain and still insatiable appetite. By lunch time of course you feel
knackered , but they don't need to know that. You will be anyone's hero if
you boast (and you will boast) that you had been up and swum 3,000 metres
before their wheatabix had even had its milk delivered.

The questions I ask is how do the parent-taxi-drivers feel about this
ritual? Indeed how do they feel at all? They got up at the same time, but
didn't get the buzz from the training. And having made the effort to get up
why don't any of them ever try swimming themselves, and get some of the
benefits? It's no wonder that they've got bags under their eyes. I suppose
it's all part of being a parent and it probably feeds their sense of
martyrdom, so they don't need our sympathy. What they do need though is a
damned good alarm clock, because a universal by-product of prolonged morning
training is the ability to sleep through most alarms.

Is it worth it? Well, not everyone makes it to the top, but there's no one
who has without the morning sessions. For those of us who just can't stop
ourselves, we know we'll never go to the top, but so long as we float we 
won't
go to the bottom either!