Crawling My Way Toward Rhythmic Breathing

If you follow me on Facebook, then you know that things have gone south with my running injury. In fact, there is some evidence that things may have gotten worse, despite the fact that I still have not run since Thanksgiving. So, on Friday when my doctor told me that I had to revert to the dreaded surgical shoe and that I couldn't use the elliptical machine or a stair climber, I knew that I had to find a way to swim. I couldn't face 8+ more weeks on the stationary bicycle. I just couldn't do it.

I like to think of myself as a pretty simple person. I prefer older cars, I don't have the latest technology, we have a modest-sized house in an even more modest neighborhood, I hardly ever wear make-up, and I don't use any special products that promise to improve my aging body. Hence, I like Planet Fitness; $99 for the year and all the basic cardio and weight equipment that I could ever need...until now. Since there is no YMCA nearby, I hauled myself and the surgical shoe over to the higher-scale fitness center down the road, in search of a pool.

Yesterday morning I found myself standing in the pool getting ready to swim and then it all came back to me. I really don't like swimming, either. Despite years of swimming lessons at the Merrymeeting Racket Ball Club and Camp Pondicherry, and despite the fact that I spent a considerable amount of my childhood on Echo Lake in Mount Vernon, Maine at my grandparents' summer home - I just don't like swimming. I have come to this realization when I have had other running injuries. I'm not very good at swimming. I usually think that I am going to drown and to fuel that concern, I often accidentally inhale water. But, I was there, with the fancy gym membership, so I had better give it a try. It was about what I expected. The fact that this pool is an even four feet throughout was a great relief to my psyche and I did start to relax a little: drowning in this pool is less likely. Nevertheless, my breathing and strokes were labored, I worried that I would lose my contacts in the pool, and again, I seemed to inhale water. I actually thought that the clock was broken. It said that I had only been swimming for 6 minutes when I was sure that 15 minutes had gone by. I watched all of the expert swimmers around me, smoothly swimming laps, back and forth, back and forth. They were wearing goggles and swim caps. "So, I will get goggles and a swim cap and see if this experience becomes less painful."

Here I am in my goggles. 

This afternoon I headed to the gym with my swimsuit, and new goggles and swim cap. I could barely get the cap over my head and the goggles cut into my eye sockets, pinching me, making it difficult to see. I pushed through the frustration and started to swim. I stopped, adjusted the goggles, the swim cap, and started again. I did a back stroke and I was all over the place. My impaired vision and muffled hearing threw off my sense of direction and I found myself swimming into the other lane on multiple occasions. My frustration was mounting, but I was committed (or about to need to be committed). I watched the woman in the lane next to me, gliding up and down her lane, doing the crawl, her rhythmic breathing seemed so natural, her timing was wonderful and it seemed so easy. "Oh, the dreaded crawl. I never could figure that one out. How many times did I hold onto the bar in the pool at the Merrymeeting Racket Ball Club, kicking my legs, and practicing my rhythmic breathing? I always inhale water. It's just awful!" I started down my lane, doing a pathetic version of the crawl, with my head out of the water, laboring mightily. Then something happened. I turned my head to the side and inhaled. Then I turned my head forward and exhaled. I did it again and I was transported back to the pool at the Merrymeeting Racket Ball Club and I looked up and saw a nameless and faceless teenaged instructor yelling, "Now exhale! Turn your head and inhale!" And, I thought, "Oh, THIS is what they were talking about!" It was so smooth and natural. Four strokes and I was golden! And, then I inhaled water, gasped for air, and could barely stay afloat.

But, I had it for four strokes and I keep remembering that girl in the pool and her adult self is so hopeful that swimming might get better after all. I did the crawl every fourth lap, alternating with back, breast stroke, back, and crawl. Sometimes it is smooth, sometimes I labor. When I finish, my heart is pounding and I check my pulse for 10 seconds, gasping for air. Twenty-six beats. I flip onto my back and start down my lane, doing the math...26x6=156. That's just about as good as running.

I might survive this yet.