“Must-Read Tips Before Diving into a January Swim Club!”

It has been a remarkable year for Irish swimming – three Olympic medals, excellent displays at the World Championships and short course Worlds, along with a succession of national records shattered. If, like many, you’ve been motivated to visit the local pool, we eagerly look forward to your cap-adorned arrival at the poolside of your choice. But please, be cautious.

As a swimmer who frequents the lanes at lunchtime two or three times a week, I offer insights to assist you in smoothly entering this realm without upsetting your new teammates. Swimming is distinctive among sports due to the intimacy it necessitates with fellow athletes, and it may require some adjustment to keep a good pace. However, choosing a lane is a risk-prone self-evaluation. I observe infractions at both extremes – swift swimmers intimidating the respectable citizens of the slow lane, and splashy slower swimmers causing disruptions in the fast lane.

Often, I can anticipate the latter before they arrive. They’re typically fit men, selecting lanes based on identity (“I’m simply suited for the fast lane”) rather than actual swimming competence.

The following scenario occurs with regularity. I’m in the fast lane, completing medium/fast laps of the pool (50m in under a minute, at the very least), pausing every 12 laps. Someone joins the lane, and just as I am, let’s say, 4m from their end and preparing to turn, the individual suddenly takes off. At this point, I cannot tumble-turn and keep going, as that would mean swimming directly into them upon exiting the turn. Hence, I halt. Or rather, I am halted. They are unaware of my response, which is visibly exasperated, leading to a likelihood that this behavior will persist in our shared lane experience.

Occasionally, I have attempted to initiate a conversation, but swimming pools are not ideal places for mediation. “I apologize, but I’ve noticed you consistently start just as I’m about to turn. Would you mind waiting until I’ve turned or going when I’m at the far end?” They seem genuinely perplexed or roll their eyes, and an odd atmosphere envelops the lane – one heightened by all the inscrutable goggle-clad faces. If instead of speaking, I react by simply turning and swiftly overtaking, they often accelerate, resulting in a tiring, close-quarters competition.

The next point: should you feel a tap on your foot, do not panic. Upon resuming lane-swimming, I discovered the primary guideline is that if a swimmer behind taps your foot, it signals their desire to overtake, and you should facilitate that by not stopping abruptly, but swimming on gently, allowing them to pass swiftly. The one time I attempted this recently, it was met with total bewilderment (they halted and turned around, thinking I was attempting to engage in conversation). Regrettably, the overlap between those who swim frequently enough to understand the rule and those likely to require overtaking is exceedingly small. Consequently, a foot tap in the wild is likely to be perceived as anything from an unwelcome rogue tickle to an act of aggression.

I’m no Daniel Wiffen. I find it unnerving when a faster swimmer enters my lane. If there’s an available one or another that’s moving efficiently, I’ll often switch. When I am unable to switch without compromising a productive training session, I am very cautious about not disrupting their rhythm. I’ll swim four lengths for every six they complete and sidestep to the corner or edge, providing them ample space to turn and overtake.

This may sound obsessive, but I have come to believe this obsession relates to how women perceive their bodies and the space they occupy. It’s the reason I feel such irritation when someone cuts me off. I tend to refrain from attributing malice when ignorance is plausible. Therefore, when I contemplate what it must be like to be unconcerned about blocking another’s path, to be utterly oblivious of the space my body occupies to not realize I’m about to compel someone else to halt, I feel both envious and annoyed. For me, taking off just before a faster swimmer turns would be no less cowardly than chasing and then lying down in front of a jogger.

Some philosophy I recently encountered shed light on my frustration. Phenomenologists argue that the tradition of western philosophy has confined the body to a mere shell that the mind, viewed as the true seat of consciousness, merely transports. Descartes & Co emphasized the mental over the physical. For phenomenologist Merleau-Ponty, we are our bodies.

In Throwing Like a Girl, Iris Marion Young utilizes phenomenology to clarify how women sometimes struggle to establish a harmonious relationship with physical activity. According to Young, at our most fundamental, individuals are bodies, engaging freely with our surroundings. The body represents capacity — a set of powers. However, this can manifest differently for women. Young depicts a distorted version where power is restrained, its connection with its environment falters, resulting in feelings of incapacity, frustration, and self-awareness.

In simpler terms, we regard our bodies in a manner that obstructs our experience of them as primarily powerful. We think of our bodies as objects rather than subjects – entities that others observe or, in the context of swimming pools, entities that could obstruct someone else’s path.

This is why, in addition to manspreading, we have womansquinching. Consider the shared armrests between public seating, such as on planes and trains. For those of us whose phenomenology has been diminished by life, those armrests will always represent the occupation of space. The notion of effortlessly utilizing them simply to alleviate the weight-bearing load of our arms, without considering the competing elbow, exists only in fantasy. Likewise, I meticulously analyze my lane etiquette, perpetually anxious about the possibility of my body becoming an obstruction to another. It’s regrettable since it is during uninterrupted swimming that I feel the most primal connection with my body. I feel as though I am the operator of a fine car, rather than a road hazard.

Therefore, if swimming is your resolution for the new year, and you belong to the fortunate group whose connection to your body is so instinctive that you do not consider when you might inadvertently cause a two-body pile-up, I beseech you, strive to select the appropriate lane.

Dr Clare Moriarty is a Research Ireland postdoctoral fellow at Trinity College Dublin