butterfly, to wear a full suit, one that wraps over the collarbones.
With thirty minutes to go, I got into the water again to do 600 to 800 meters. I was in the water for ten minutes, max. I got out, dried off, and grabbed my USA parka, put my warm-up pants on, put the headphones back on.
With about ten minutes to go, I grabbed my credential and walked to the ready room. The credential is your ID pass at the Olympics; itâs a laminated plastic card that includes a picture and a barcode. For security reasons, you canât go anywhere without it.
When Iâm in the ready room, Iâm there by myself and to be by myself. Usually, the officials who are in the room try to sit all theguys in the same row if youâre in the same race or the same heat. I never do that. I just find a seat where I can sit by myself and block the two seats on either side; my caps and goggles go on one, towel on the other.
Lochte came over and said, good luck. I was, like, thanks, man, letâs do it.
I knew, and Lochte knew that I knew, that, unfortunately, he wasnât quite himself. He had been dealing with a pretty significant case of the runs. It appeared McDonaldâs was his attempted solution. For a few days, he had been eating religiously at the one in the village cafeteria, chowing down each time on what seemed to be more than a dozen Chicken McNuggets, a burger or two, and fries. Lunch and dinner. If Lochte wasnât quite himself that day, well, heâd had an ankle problem at the Trials and went under the world record. He was going to bring it as hard as he could, no question.
They called our race. I put on the goggles and caps.
It was time to go.
As I walked out onto the deck, I looked for President Bush; Iâd heard he was in the audience. I found him after a few moments, and it looked like he was pointing at me, waving his flag.
After we walked out to behind the blocks, I did what I always do there. I stretched my legs on the blocks, two different stretches, one a straight-leg stretch, the other with a bent knee, left leg first.
I took the right headphone out.
Once they called my name, I took the left headphone out, the parka off. Itâs my routine to stand on the left side of the block and get onto it from that side.
I made sure the block itself was dry. This is a lesson learned the hard way. At the 2004 Santa Clara meet, before the 400 IM, I didnât notice the block was wet. Instead of diving in, I more or less fell off the block. Embarrassing. Since then Iâve always made sure to wipe the block with a towel.
Once up there, like I always do, I swung my arms, flapped them, really, in front and then in back, slapping my back.
Some people have suggested thatâs a routine I do to psych people out. They think that Iâm thinking: Even if you canât see me well behind your goggles, hereâs the sound thatâs announcing youâre going to get your butt kicked. Nothing of the sort. That would be poor sportsmanship in the extreme. Itâs just a routine. My routine. Itâs the routine Iâve gone through my whole life. Iâm not going to change it.
I get asked all the time what I think about when Iâm up on the blocks, in the instant before the starter says, take your marks.
Nothing.
Thereâs nothing I can change, nothing I can do to get faster. Iâve done all the training. All I can do is listen for the beep, dive in the water, and swim.
⢠ ⢠ â¢
I had told Bob I intended this 400 IM to be the last one I would ever swim competitively.
Itâs not that I couldnât swim it again. More, I simply didnât want to. Itâs that demanding.
If I was going to go out, then I wanted to go out in style.
The idea in the first 50 was to use that easy speed and then turn it on just enough so that at 100 I would have a lead of half a body length, maybe even a full body.
At the first wall, Cseh was in first. I was just behind.
With thirty minutes to go, I got into the water again to do 600 to 800 meters. I was in the water for ten minutes, max. I got out, dried off, and grabbed my USA parka, put my warm-up pants on, put the headphones back on.
With about ten minutes to go, I grabbed my credential and walked to the ready room. The credential is your ID pass at the Olympics; itâs a laminated plastic card that includes a picture and a barcode. For security reasons, you canât go anywhere without it.
When Iâm in the ready room, Iâm there by myself and to be by myself. Usually, the officials who are in the room try to sit all theguys in the same row if youâre in the same race or the same heat. I never do that. I just find a seat where I can sit by myself and block the two seats on either side; my caps and goggles go on one, towel on the other.
Lochte came over and said, good luck. I was, like, thanks, man, letâs do it.
I knew, and Lochte knew that I knew, that, unfortunately, he wasnât quite himself. He had been dealing with a pretty significant case of the runs. It appeared McDonaldâs was his attempted solution. For a few days, he had been eating religiously at the one in the village cafeteria, chowing down each time on what seemed to be more than a dozen Chicken McNuggets, a burger or two, and fries. Lunch and dinner. If Lochte wasnât quite himself that day, well, heâd had an ankle problem at the Trials and went under the world record. He was going to bring it as hard as he could, no question.
They called our race. I put on the goggles and caps.
It was time to go.
As I walked out onto the deck, I looked for President Bush; Iâd heard he was in the audience. I found him after a few moments, and it looked like he was pointing at me, waving his flag.
After we walked out to behind the blocks, I did what I always do there. I stretched my legs on the blocks, two different stretches, one a straight-leg stretch, the other with a bent knee, left leg first.
I took the right headphone out.
Once they called my name, I took the left headphone out, the parka off. Itâs my routine to stand on the left side of the block and get onto it from that side.
I made sure the block itself was dry. This is a lesson learned the hard way. At the 2004 Santa Clara meet, before the 400 IM, I didnât notice the block was wet. Instead of diving in, I more or less fell off the block. Embarrassing. Since then Iâve always made sure to wipe the block with a towel.
Once up there, like I always do, I swung my arms, flapped them, really, in front and then in back, slapping my back.
Some people have suggested thatâs a routine I do to psych people out. They think that Iâm thinking: Even if you canât see me well behind your goggles, hereâs the sound thatâs announcing youâre going to get your butt kicked. Nothing of the sort. That would be poor sportsmanship in the extreme. Itâs just a routine. My routine. Itâs the routine Iâve gone through my whole life. Iâm not going to change it.
I get asked all the time what I think about when Iâm up on the blocks, in the instant before the starter says, take your marks.
Nothing.
Thereâs nothing I can change, nothing I can do to get faster. Iâve done all the training. All I can do is listen for the beep, dive in the water, and swim.
⢠ ⢠ â¢
I had told Bob I intended this 400 IM to be the last one I would ever swim competitively.
Itâs not that I couldnât swim it again. More, I simply didnât want to. Itâs that demanding.
If I was going to go out, then I wanted to go out in style.
The idea in the first 50 was to use that easy speed and then turn it on just enough so that at 100 I would have a lead of half a body length, maybe even a full body.
At the first wall, Cseh was in first. I was just behind.
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