Beltie: An Unsung Hero

Here we go again with another week of work and training.

I woke when the light was switched on and the first thing I was conscious of was a loving hand slide over my foot that was as usual hanging out of the bed. “Time to get up, its morning again”.

“NO” I moan “It’s the middle of the night”.

I slide down the side of our bed to a standing position, tippy toes first, then make a soft landing but still leaning on the bed wearing my birthday suit, hair looking as though I have stuck my fingers in the electricity socket.

 

Monday.

Swim-work.

Monday means 100’s at the moment.

When we get to pool side Beltie watches everybody slip in the water and start their warm up. He gets in via the steps at my side of the pool and waiting for his moment, nine times out of ten his path into the ‘Animals’ lane, will be a dolphin dive to the bottom of the pool passing right underneath me as I swim along the surface, he will then join his men in the warm up.

At the end of W.U. I look and see the laminated schedule he has give me. “Oh no” I say, “What? I’m just a little old lady you know”. He smiles and says “No you’re not you’re an animal”. The he looks up at the clock and adds, “That’s your start coming up now… Gooooo”.

He knows he can leave me to get on with my swim on my own. I was the one who translated the schedule from his illegible scribble into the computer and printed it out anyway, so I know what the clock needs to read for me to go on each consecutive 100 metre swim. He also knows that even though it has a set of 15 x 100’s that I will do 19 and then change to back stroke until his lane set finishes. 1900 mtrs is the swim distance of my hardest race this year. Ironman 70.3 Elsinore, Denmark.

He swims with his guys, except when he needs to note swim times or make sure they go at the right time.

Every now and again as I push off from the deep end he will push off at the exact same moment as me and as he pushes away from the wall with his arms and hands out stretched he will roll to face me and wave one of his hands at me before swimming on past me, or occasionally he will be watching the stroke of his swimmers under the water, with one of his hands pressed on the lane rope above his head to keep him in place and he will Wallace and Grommit grin at me as I turn and pass.

Steve coaches with not the slightest thought of gain to his personal wealth, his reward is only to see his swimmers improve and that is tremendously satisfying to him. He is devoted to the people he coaches, they are his babies. They do know that too and a simple “Thanks Steve” at the end of a session is more than enough payment.

When we got in the car to leave to pool and drop him at work I told him that I had “Til I hear you sing” playing in my head again during my long set of hundreds and that it was a bit of a pain in the neck because the guy singing in my head kept starting at the beginning of the song every time I pushed off, so I never got to his big crescendo and the sustained last note that he holds for bars and bars. It was a bit annoying and when I told Steve that he just muttered “Why am I not surprised”?

On the occasions that I have been racing and Steve has not, he will give every ounce of support possible. He will turn up all over the course, smiling and shouting encouragement. He will do this for anybody that he is coaching and those he is not also. He does not have a selfish bone in his body and is totally dedicated to his sport and to his sports people. 

It is definitely Monday today and I know this because I have not stopped sneezing since swimming today, this is a regular Monday occurrence that is a pain in the neck and further down. Steve has gone off in the truck to Battersea to pick up for our antiques clients all day and won’t be home until late-ish.

That leaves me in charge for the day and I have to actually go in to work. I have mustered together my warmest clothes and a notebook to scribble in whilst I am in the warehouse. Maybe the cold will shock my sinuses in to calming down until Saint Stephen returns to take over command.