November 13, 2006
Dear Amy,
One woman told me before our class started, "It's the first five pounds that are easy to lose.
The other twenty are much, much harder."
Her comment about dieting related to swimming. I told her that I was improving drastically.
I didn't feel comfortable in the water, but now I'm getting a lot better. I couldn't swim
before, but now I'm doing a lap. Her words related to the idea that I'll get really
good really fast, then plateau. When the plateau comes, that's when the work starts.
Isn't that how so many things work? Drastic change, then plateau to the chore
of the exercise. Think about it.
Drastic change: Change of Job. Excitement happens with the "honeymoon phase" and you
get to tell everyone how much you like it.
Plateau: You co-worker takes his fourth week-long vacation and you have to cover his work.
Drastic change: New baby! Everyone stops by when you're in the hospital or just got home.
Plateau: 2 weeks later and you can't figure out why the child won't sleep in his/her crib
for more than 10 minutes.
Drastic change: You sign up for Ironman and you can't swim, so you takes classes and
you start swimming well!
Plateau: You have to train your body to swim 2.4 miles.
It's a plateau that could easily be interchanged into, what we call in the corporate world,
"The Daily Grind". The place where we find the novelty melts away to reveal the true
work that lies ahead. In the first class, our teacher Erin must have wondered what planet
I walked off when I came to this class. I had no swimming skills to speak of. But tonight,
I made some hallmark achievements. After the men and the women split up into our
two groups, there were only three men on our side that made for good personal attention.
Only a lap or two into the warm up, Erin told us that all of us would be practicing
the front crawl with no swimming aid. For me, that meant no kickboard or Styrofoam
barbells. For a lot of reasons, it worried me.
Yesterday, I went to the Natatorium's pool with Franny. I got to a point when I
decided to swim by myself.
When I got horizontal in the water, my body would tense up and it would be difficult
to straighten my legs or tuck my chin into my chest. But, I could manage to do it for
a few strokes in 3 or 4 foot water.
Tonight, I was going to put those few strokes to the test. "OK, if you can hear me, you're
doing it wrong!"
She shouted at me amidst stroke, "Keep your ears in the water. The head should be fully immersed.
When you breathe, your head should turn 90 degrees like this." She rotated her head like a robot
turns to view things to his left, "What are you looking at when you breathe?"
"I don't know?"
"Are you looking at the blue," she points at the stripe on the Natatorium wall, "or what?
What are you looking at?"
"I don't know what I'm looking at."
"OK, then look at that lower white stripe. And keep your legs powerful. And keep you chin tucked in. OK?"
She gives me the two thumbs up with a look on her face like she just asked me a question.
I keep acknowledging her, hoping that she would soon stop giving me correction notes. When
my turn comes up, I did contemplate those corrections. Most importantly, tucking my chin into
my chest. I took off and I swam incredibly fast. I could see the small blue lane tiles on the
pool's floor flying by me. I stroked, stroked again and stroked again and breathed while
my ear stayed in the water and put my chin back to my chest. I repeated and breathed on the other side.
More tiles flew by and I got to the end. I picked myself up and the woman who talked about
diets at the beginning of class was watching me in amazement.
"That's amazing swimming for someone who couldn't swim two weeks ago." she told me.
"It's just one lap. You can take only a breath or two and you'll make the end." I modestly told her.
"Yea, you're right." she looked away.
She knew I had twenty more pounds to lose.
Hope all is well.
Steve
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