The swim towels

By Alan Tapley

Editor’s note:  Alan Tapley is the parent of two female swimmers, ages twelve and fourteen.  Over the past eight years he has been with them at hundreds of meets and practices.  He has had countless conversations with swimmers about what they would like the public to know about their pursuit of this grueling sport.

It was the summer of 2009, and the family was in for a big surprise.  Grandpa George would be turning 70 years old and had decided to send the entire family to Hawaii to celebrate the occasion.  We snorkeled, toured volcanoes, went to a Luau, and soaked in the sun.  Grandpa went full out for this trip.  He rented a lovely house by the ocean, paid for our travel, our rental cars, and even went to the local store nearby to load up on cheap beach towels and sunscreen.  For almost a week, we laughed and played until finally it was time to go home.  While packing our suitcases, Grandma wanted to know if anyone wanted to claim the four cheap Hawaiian towels, each one tackier than the next.  There were no takers until I finally agreed to take them.  After all, I had room in my suitcase, and my two kids, then six and eight, were young swimmers.  And swimmers could always use extra towels.

The towels had taken a beating in Hawaii as the kids played by the pool and tumbled on the beach.  They must have survived at least a half a dozen trips to the laundry as the sun lotion and beach sand blanketed them.  They were discount specials, at most $7.99 each, but they were perfect for the summer swim season.  So thin that you could stuff three into a swim bag without issue.  So cheap that if your kid lost one, you most likely wouldn’t go back to try and find it.  They were perfect.

Surprisingly, the towels would survive the next two years of summer swimming without much damage.  Sure, the colors were fading and the material was thinning, but meet after meet they would make it back home, all but one, lost among the carnage of summer.  After all, they were hard to miss.  The blue one with the surfer, the pink one with the palm tree, the orange one with the sunset, all with the word Hawaii plastered from corner to corner.

In 2012, the towels worked both the summer and club circuit without missing a beat.  A perfect complement to a big new towel, or a swim parka, the towels easily fit in suitcases for travel meets, survived three day meets in distant hotels, and were there for one day summer meets, quickly drying in the sun.  Practice after practice, meet after meet, for years.

In 2014, my daughter made the finals of the State Championships as a twelve year old.  And as the swimmers paraded out to the blocks in their swim parkas to loud music and the cheers from the crowd, my daughter was wrapped in a faded pink Hawaiian towel.  Following that event, I made sure we brought the thick, team logo towel, along with the faded Hawaiian bunch, just in case she made finals again.

Last weekend, that same twelve year old was now almost fifteen and attending her first Winter Junior National Championships.  I sat in the stands looking for her among the hundreds of swimmers, each looking identical with their technical suits, swim caps, and long, lean frames.  Then I spotted her, just getting out of the warm up pool, wrapped in a faded blue Hawaiian towel.