Breathe.

Photo by Free Image Bank.

As a child, I was terrified of swimming. I remember taking the entry-level swimming class three summers in a row. The instructor would say, “Okay, time to go under water.” I’d say, “I don’t want to get water up my nose.” The instructor would smile, “It’s okay, you won’t get water up your nose. You’ll be fine.” I was a trusting little kid, so I’d under water only to come up choking and gasping for air, with water stinging my nasal passages and chlorine in my eyes. I gripped the side of the pool and thought, “What the hell kind of place is this?!”

Those days were distant memories until a friend asked me to do a triathlon this summer. For some crazy reason, I agreed. I’ve been running for a long time, and the biking part seems pretty straightforward, but the swimming… oh the swimming.

I started training by trying to swim during my normal trips to the gym. It immediately became clear to me that the whole “fake it ’til you make it“ axiom does not apply to swimming. In my attempt to do laps early in the morning, I’d make it about a third of the way down the lane before some water would creep up my nose, or I’d accidentally suck some right into the back of my throat while trying to breathe to the side… and the fear would set in. Heart beating fast… arms losing coordination…  faster, faster, am I supposed to breathe now?, oh god… panic, Panic, PANIC!

I would stop swimming and pull my head out of the water. Breathing like I’d been in a full sprint,  I’d frantically tread water, looking around at a pool full of competent swimmers who were actually enjoying themselves. I did not belong.

After three weeks of this training pantomime, with my fear on the right and my courage on the left, I picked up a business card I’d been holding onto for weeks and made a phone call to book a private, adult, swimming lesson. Here we go.

I had my first lesson, in 24 years, last week. The instructor asked me to show him what I’ve got. “I really don’t want to do that,” I thought. But at $35 for one half-hour, and with that open-water half-mile looming in the triathlon, I was motivated enough to make the best of it. I thrashed about halfway down the pool before my head popped up and my panicked breathing resumed. It was all made worse by the fact that I was paying someone good money to watch me choke on the neighborhood swimming pool.

My coach spent some time listening to my concerns and then led me through some baby steps. “Keep your head down and look at the bottom of the pool. If you’re looking down, you’ll feel your body float to the surface.” I worked clumsily on putting my head further into the water, and every time I did, sure enough, I could feel the rest of my body rise to the surface. He gave me a few more instructions that I could never seem to follow all together, and at the end of the lesson, he said, “You have to practice this stuff on your own or you aren’t going to get anywhere.”

The next day, I practiced for 45 minutes.

stroke, relax, stroke, head down, float, breathe

stroke, relax, stroke, head down, float, breathe

stroke, relax, stroke, head down, float, breathe

I kept at it until I was not only getting proficient, but actually enjoying myself. I realized some things that are just not apparent to us non-swimming types:

1. The water is not out to get you.
2. Keep your head down—always down.
3. When water enters your nose, no need to panic, just push it back out—breathe!
4. Practice. Over and over and over again.

Swimming is teaching me more about life than any other sport has, no doubt because it is the one I’m most afraid of. Since I started from such a low point, each time I finish a swim I am surprised at how much I’ve improved and that I am genuinely enjoying the experience. It is a surprise that I have not gotten often as an adult—where fear washes into joy. The confidence reverberates through the day. When you get over one of your greatest fears, it is like buying and fixing up the worst house on the block: The whole neighborhood improves.

No matter your age, fear is the same. Your heart races and your palms sweat and, if it gets bad enough, you start to avoid it. Adults are really good at avoiding, because being an adult is about being comfortable, but other than the things we surround ourselves with, I’m not so sure we ever change that much from when we are kids. But we can change.  Just keep your head down and focus. The world is not out to get you. When something tries to scare you off, keep going. When you get knocked down, get up, and do it over and over again. Stroke, relax, stroke: head down, float. Breathe.