Swim-Albeit Slowly

My son is on the swim team at the high school. At his last meet there was a girl on the JV team who finished last in the 500 meter freestyle. It was a painful sight, watching her slowly finish, two minutes behind everyone else. People cheered her on, but honestly, she was so slow, bless her heart. At one point, I was like, “Is she swimming backwards?” 

Then I realized—my swim time for  500 meters is over three minutes slower than her time. And my son? No exaggeration—it takes me over twice as long to swim the same distances he swims. 

Granted, I didn’t swim as a kid. I think I had one swimming lesson, but it was more for my sister who was terrified of the water, so I mostly hovered near her like a mother hen. I don’t remember actually getting any instruction myself. And remember? I was a choir and theater, ‘cello playing kid.

Fact is, I’ve had my 23 and Me done. It’s there in black and white. I have almost all slow-twitch muscles. Genetically, I was never going to be fast at anything. I can go and go and go and go. Slow. 

That’s the thing about being really awesome, like Olympic style/sub five-minute-mile/Simone Biles/freak of nature awesome. You can want it with all your heart, you can work your ass off, you can believe. But if you need fast twitch muscles and you got mostly slow twitch muscles or if you need to be 6’8” and you’re 5’2” or if you need freakishly long arms and you got short and stubby, you might want to rethink your goals. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good underdog story. And I am a “you can do anything you put your mind to” optimist, but I’m just making observations on life here. Genetics and natural talent are a thing.

Also, Stephen and I have been experimenting with heart rate training. Turns out that in order to reach my goals (none of which have anything to do with being fast), it’s better to train in the lower heart rate zones, which means that I have had to slow down my running. Slower. Slooooower. It has been frustrating at times, but I notice I feel better afterwards. I don’t get the I just spent every ounce of energy and now I have nothing left for my family vibe afterwards. And supposedly it also keeps you in the “fat burning” zones, which is also more in line with my goals. 

At one time, when I always had a race on the calendar and I did lots of speed drills and was always striving to be “faster,” I had a goal to finish a half-marathon in less than two hours. Lofty goal, I know. I had my sights set on reaching my goal at the Canyonlands Half Marathon in Moab, Utah. It is a gorgeous run along the Colorado River, red rocks rising like giants against a cloudless azure sky. My home. I grew up there and going back—being amongst the fiery sandstone canyons, buttresses, and arches—feels sacred. 

I gave it my all in that race. I put my head down—ignoring the world famous scenery, the gorgeously cool morning air, the starkly blue sky juxtaposed against the red canyon walls. I pushed the whole way—ignoring the pain, the heat, the dehydration. Annnnd–I finished in 2:02. I was devastated. Then. I had an epiphany. I said to myself, “Self–what did you think you were going to do today? Did you think you were going to win? And who in this wide world do you think cares about your finish time? Exactly no one!” I spent that whole race, running along the tumbling river, running past winding red canyons, running amongst a hoard of humanity, each soul chasing their own dream, all the while feeling miserable. I pushed as hard as I could and my epiphany was that the difference between being miserable and drinking in every glorious moment of the day was about 30 seconds per mile. I resolved that day to stop chasing any goal other than enjoying the race, which meant going slow. Slower. Slooooower.  

This also speaks to the why. If you are going to do something like this, and you aren’t going to win, you have to find another why. Why get up at the crack of dawn and breathe in the frigid winter air? Why spend hours and dollars and energy on swimming, cycling, running? If you’re not going to win, why do thousands of people still aspire to do this? 

The other day, I was feeling the need to answer the question what do I want? What is most important in my life? I was feeling overwhelmed and needed to find my why. Initially, as I sat down to write a list of priorities, I had several superficial things come to mind (lose weight, look good, get the freaking house clean). But as I got quiet, closed my eyes, let the dust settle around what really matters, the first and most important why rose to the surface.

To live fully. 

Adulting can be monotonous. The daily grind of going to work, paying the bills, raising the kids, putting food on the table day after day after day can suck the life right out of a person. It’s easy to get lost in it, go numb. The dreams and aspirations of youth get laid aside for the more pressing and immediate needs of the day. We fall into the low grade depression of being—ordinary. 

There are days when all this swimming, cycling, running seems selfish, superfluous. Shouldn’t I be out serving at a homeless shelter or raising money to feed starving children or just cleaning my own damn toilets for crying out loud?? And by all means, those things have their place. But being able to swim, cycle, and run for miles and miles and miles–albeit sloooowly–is one of the things that makes me feel alive. I love the feeling of being able to move my body with ease and strength. I love being outside, seeing the blueness of that ever constant sky, watching the clouds shift and change, feeling the rhythm of my heart beating faster, feeling grateful that I can swim, cycle, run–albeit slow. Slower. Slooooower. 

I want to live a long and healthy life. I want Stephen to live a long and healthy life. I want us to live fully together for as long as we can. I want to have the energy and ability to move through life with grace and ease and strength of body, mind, and spirit. And though I am ordinary when it comes to swimming, cycling, running, it is an extraordinary thing to swim, cycle, and run for miles and miles and miles. Albeit slow. Slower. Slooooower. It is still extraordinary.

There are lots of ways to live a full, extraordinary life. And it can start with something as small as slowing down. Slower. Slooooower.

Life can be hectic. It never seems there is enough time in the day to get everything done. Some days feel frantic, from the moment you wake up until the moment you fall into bed at night. And boy to I know that feeling—most nurses are just keeping their heads above water for the entirety of their twelve hour shift. They joke about being able to hold their pee for record breaking amounts of time and often go without breaks. I hated that frantic feeling and about five years ago, I decided to stop feeling that way and slow down. Now when I say that, you must understand that I still needed to get all the same tasks done in the same amount of time, so the “slowing down” was perceptible to no one but myself. But it has been the difference between feeling calm and feeling frantic. It is small, subtle things like walking just a little slower down the long hospital hallway. It is trying to breathe more slowly and relaxing my shoulders. It is mindfully moving through my tasks, instead of frantically, which—I’ve noticed—results in fewer incidences of dropping things or making mistakes and saves time in the long run.

Take a moment to notice your breath, feeling gratitude for the sun on your skin, slowing down your walk—perhaps not so much that anyone else notices, but enough that you feel your shoulders and brow soften and instead of missing that moment, you notice it. When you are at a stoplight, instead of feeling anxious and irritated at how long the light is staying red, take that moment to breathe, notice the flowers or trees or the blue sky that you otherwise wouldn’t have seen. Try to get out of your head and become more aware of your body and your surroundings. Instead of rushing through life and missing most of the moments, slow down and drink in every glorious moment of the day.

Slower.

Slooooower.