swimming

Swimming in the Weeds

I stood near the edge of Whiskeytown Lake along with 125 fellow swimmers. We were all wearing green swim caps, and everyone seemed excited. My new friend Janette turned to me and said, “Good luck!”

“Have fun!” I replied.

Then, the race director shouted, “Go!” Some swimmers ran into the water, and others walked in leisurely. I dove into the water, started swimming, and immediately noticed the waves we created. Then I felt the weeds tickle my legs. As soon as that happened, my stomach did flip-flops.

Rather than looking at the weeds while my head was underwater, I closed my eyes so I couldn’t see them. Instead, I raised my head more often to site the racecourse buoys and to make sure I wasn’t swimming over another swimmer. Also, my mantra—“plants aren’t predators”—helped me to stay calm.

Eventually, I broke away from the weeds and glided into deep dark blue water. Rays of sunlight reflected off of the water, and as I took deep breaths, I noticed the mountains, the sky, and the kayakers that were part of the water safety crew. As I rounded the second big buoy, I realized that I was halfway through the race. Part of me wanted to stop and tread water because it was so beautiful out in the deep blue water, but I had to keep swimming.

Before I knew it, I was back in the weeds swimming to the shore. As I made my way through the weeds, I thought about my friend Aubrey and how much progress she’s made since her cycling accident. She’s been working hard in physical therapy and with a CrossFit coach, too. I thought to myself, Aubrey is so inspiring. She’s working hard to regain her strength. That is WAY harder than being scared of weeds! Keep swimming, Tammy.

So, I ignored my fear of the weeds, tried to catch the swimmer ahead of me, and thought about how far I've come this year.

After a bad back flare up in February, I was diagnosed with arthritis in my lower back and degenerative disc disease. During February, it was difficult for me to do basic things like walking or sitting without experiencing intense pain. At the beginning of the year, I wondered if I’d ever be pain-free again. I felt so tired of dealing with my reoccurring back problems. Thankfully, my doctor referred me to a fantastic physical therapist, and eventually, I found my way back to the water and to a masters swim team. Getting back into the water, and slowly building my strength, helped me get through the weeds in my mind.

Facing my fear of lake weeds last weekend seemed fitting because the experience reminded me to prioritize self-care. For example, I rested and recovered from my race. Resting has never been my strong suit because I just want to keep moving. I’ve learned that rest requires an active commitment, just like writing, photography, or any other type of activity. Plus, if I don't take care of myself, and ignore the importance of rest, I'll get stuck in the weeds over and over again.

Alos, the latest issue of SWIMMER arrived in my mailbox last week. One of the featured articles—by Gretchen M. Sanders—is titled “Give It a Rest for Your Best.” Sanders said, “Rest requires commitment—it does not happen by chance. Rest should be as deliberate as putting on a swimsuit. It will take practice for some and come easily for others. Start small by taking a morning off, then a day, then a weekend, then a whole week. With each passing year, our bodies grow older and need more time to recover. Giving your body the rest it craves may just prolong the time you spend enjoying the life-giving sport of swimming."

Cheers to rest, recovery, good health, and conquering the weeds!

The Joy of Swimming

After I got home from a mid-July weekend of camping and swimming with my mom, I found The Joy of Swimming waiting for me on our front porch. I was excited because I’d been waiting for six months for the book to be released. I heard an interview back in January 2016 with the author, Lisa Congdon, and I felt compelled to pre-order the book. When I flipped through the pages of Lisa’s book for the first time, I landed on a page covered with colorful, illustrated fish. The caption read: “Be the fish.”

When I swim sets of 500s in the pool, I count my laps. Between all of the counting, I say to myself, “Be the fish.” That phrase has become my new positive mantra. The mantra, plus all of the lap counting, lulls me into a relaxed state.

There’s something about the water that is so inviting and playful (at least for me). I love diving into lakes and pools. I’ve never been an ocean swimmer because the critters in the sea scare me. However, I love walking along the beach, dipping my toes into the water, and listening to the sounds of the ocean.

Since I was a baby, swimming has been a part of my life. It’s hard to believe that I’ve been playing in the water for 37 years! My mom claims that I was “born to swim,” but I don’t think that’s true. My love of the water comes from my experiences with my mom. She swam with me when I was a tiny baby and got me into swim lessons—when I was 4 or 5—with good instructors, which set me up for a lifetime of swimming fun. For example, I swam on my high school swim team, for fun throughout college, with U.S. Masters Swim teams, and on my own, too. I’m not the fastest swimmer in the pool, and I don’t swim to win medals. I swim because it is calming, meditative, and keeps me strong.

Chel Micheline—whose story is in The Joy of Swimming—said, "Every day when I get in the pool, I discover a new part of myself. And every day when I get out of the pool, I feel like a warrior. And after feeling like I was at the mercy of a disease for so long, being able to have these experiences and these emotions about the very same body that felt so out of control feels enormously profound. I can face whatever else the day brings knowing I just kicked ass for 5 miles. If nothing else, I swam."

Micheline’s words ring true for me. In 2015, I recommitted to my swimming practice, and it’s one of the best things I’ve done for myself. This year, swimming has been especially awesome. I joined the Rogue Valley Masters team, swam in a 1500M open-water race, and I’ve been swimming on my own consistently. I feel strong in the water, and I'm grateful to be 95% pain-free. In February, I could barely walk around the block because of back pain, and now I'm a swimming machine. I don’t know what the next six months will bring, but I’m certain swimming will be a part of my routine because it brings me joy.

P. S. Looking for inspiration to get back into the water? Read these books:

  • Find A Way by Diana Nyad

  • The Joy of Swimming by Lisa Congdon

  • Grayson by Lynne Cox

  • Open Water Swimming Manual by Lynne Cox

  • Swimming to Antarctica by Lynne Cox