No Limits Read Free

play a race in my head as though it were a video. When we were in training, we’d get to the last repetition of a set, particularly areally hard set, and Bob would want me to do that last repeat close to race speed. He’d say, okay, put in the tape and see yourself, for instance, swimming the 400 individual medley at the nationals.
    To this day, if Bob says, okay, put in the videotape, that’s what he means.
    They say that the mental aspect of sports is just as important as the physical part. There can be no doubt about that: Being mentally tough is critical. At an Olympic final, you know everybody has physical talent. So, who’s going to win? The mentally toughest. Bob is a big believer in that. I am, too. Bob also believes that my visualization skills carry over to my training, and to my racing, and that it’s part of what makes me different.
    Bob and I have been together for so long—we started together when I was eleven, and I turned twenty-three during the 2008 Trials, in Omaha—that he doesn’t even have to say much to me now to make sure I’m preparing mentally as well as physically.
    He doesn’t have to nag. Not like that would work.
    He just says something like, how’s the visualizing going?
    Fine, I’ll say.
    Or, he’ll say, have you started yet?
    Yes, I’ll say. Or, not yet. Whatever. Bob just wants to make sure it’s happening.
    It always happens. Always.
    But nothing was leading me to the answer of what my dream meant.
    3:07. I kept trying to figure out the mystery.
    An Olympic-sized pool is 50 meters long.
    I don’t swim the 50-meter freestyle sprint in competition. But I knew, of course, that whoever was going to win the sprint at the Beijing Olympics would do so, given advancements in pool technology and in swimsuits, in particular the Speedo LZR Racer, in well under 22 seconds.
    The 100-meter freestyle winner would go in about 47 seconds. The 200 free would end in about 1 minute, 43 seconds, the 400 free in about 3:42, maybe slightly under.
    There are three other strokes on the Olympic program: the backstroke, the breaststroke, and the butterfly. But races in those two strokes are only at 100 and 200 meters, not anywhere near long enough to be in the water for 3:07.
    There are three relays on the Olympic program, too. Two of them are freestyle relays, the 400 and the 800. Four swimmers take turns swimming laps, 100 meters apiece in the 400, 200 apiece in the 800. In neither of those could 3:07 mean anything.
    The other relay is what’s called the 400 medley relay. Again, four swimmers take turns swimming laps. In the medley each swims a different stroke: in order, the backstroke, breaststroke, butterfly, freestyle. The winning time in the medley tends to be about three and a half minutes.
    I was completely stumped.
    Finally, I went to Bob to ask him what he thought it might be. Bob usually has the answers. It can be frustrating but it’s true: Bob usually has the answers.
    Bob’s interests out of the pool range across a wide variety of subjects. He can tell you about thoroughbred horses. About the architecture of Frank Lloyd Wright. About the genius of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. Bob played violin and went to Florida State because it was an excellent music school; he studied music composition very seriously. He then switched to child psychology. Bob gets asked all the time if I see a sports psychologist. He answers: every day.
    The dynamic of our relationship over the years has been this: Bob pushed. I pushed right back. Bob can be gruff. He can be demanding. Sometimes he yells at me; as I’ve gotten older, I’ve shouted right back. The venting we do at each other just shows that I’m not scared of him, and he is for sure not scared of me. And the vast majority of the time, as in any partnership that works, and ours works, totally, we get along great. Because,bottom line, Bob is not only coach and mentor but so much